This story is dirty, gritty and I loved it. Emma Salisbury explores the underbelly of British crime, taking in an assemblage of sordid, shady and sleazy characters along the way as well as a wealthy respectable family with their own unexplainable tragedy to deal with. The two cases are as far apart as it’s possible to be. Obviously, they’re not connected
Many authors suffer from that completely understandable disease of wanting their characters to be liked. Salisbury endures no such misconceptions. Her characters aren’t likeable or charismatic in any way, shape of form. The reader may feel empathy for him, but it’s also difficult to like the recently bereaved father and husband.
Despite this there are mysteries here that need unravelling. Why did a wealthy mother with everything to live for murder a son she clearly doted on and then go to commit suicide? And who killed Ricky Wilson? And why?
Detective Sergeant Kevin Coupland and Detective Constable Alex Moreton have their own demons to deal with. Coupland’s recently been caught groping a female colleague and his wife’s none too happy about it, and Alex Moreton, whose husband wants to try for another child, fears that one day she could also flip and kill one of her own children.
All in all, this makes for an easily readable, engaging tale, and as a scribbler myself I have to applaud Salisbury’s audacity in writing a dirty, gritty story that hits the reader like a double hook followed by an unexpected uppercut.
Emma Salisbury is true to her craft