Teenage females make a potent starting off point for many a fine crime confection. Take a look at the Crime Fiction Lover reviews for The Wicked Girls by Roz Watkins, 13 Minutes by Sarah Pinborough or Sean Watkin’s Black Water Rising and you’ll see what I mean. It’s that mixture of vulnerability and off-the-chart bitchiness that makes them great protagonists, or victims – or both.
As The Dying Light begins, two privileged and somewhat entitled young women climb out of their car and head straight to the swimming pool at Tide House, the North Devon holiday home of high flying politician Paul Armstrong. One of the girls is his daughter, Hannah, the other her friend Lottie, and the pair are there a day or two before the rest of the family in the hope of letting off some steam after finishing their A levels. By the following morning, one is dead and the other missing.
Which is where police detective Matthew Venn comes into the picture, and soon Ann Cleeves’ most recent creation is right in the thick of things. Followers of this series know Venn as a by-the-book copper, that viewpoint forged in a childhood among the Barum Brethren, a strict (fictional) sect. Even though he parted company with the religious group years ago, Venn still sees things in black and white for the most part, while his sidekick DS Jen Rafferty, a single mother of two from Liverpool, is much more the pragmatist. Together they make a great team though, and they’re going to have their work cut out to get to the bottom of this tricksy tale.
The fact that a sitting MP is at the centre of things adds a layer of pressure to the investigation, and from the off it’s clear that something isn’t quite gelling in the stories that people are sharing with the police. No surprise that Venn and Rafferty approach things from different angles, but the magic really happens when the pair come together with a cohesive plan of attack. And could there be any connection to a music festival held in a nearby farmer’s field the day before?
There’s a simmering undercurrent through all this, with tension growing locally because of the influx of second home owners and the rising cost of local properties that ensues, giving young Devonians no chance at all of getting on the property ladder. It’s a valid point of view – but is it enough to get someone killed? As the community closes ranks, it seems the investigating officers have hit a brick wall with no way to get through.
Scenarios like this are meat and drink to crime writers, however, and Cleeves must have rubbed her hands in glee as she let Matthew Venn and co off their leashes. Venn is at his best when trapped in the middle of a maelstrom of emotion and indignation, although on this occasion he has plenty in his personal life to keep him busy too. Like Jimmy Perez and Vera Stanhope before him, Venn is complicated; and that gives the reader more to get their teeth into – although on this occasion I dearly wanted to reach out and give the poor guy a hug!
Themes of friendship, of both the close and toxic varieties, family ties, the cult of celebrity, gentrification, love and loyalty interplay throughout the book and offer a sharply focused appraisal of life in the 2020s. Whether she’s writing about Shetland, North East England or Devon’s northern shores, Cleeves invariably has her finger on the pulse – and that sense of familiarity keeps the narrative rolling along. The Dying Light is another great addition to her body of work, and one to be recommended.
You can read ourinterview with Ann Cleeves here.
Macmillan
Print/Kindle/iBook
£11.00
CFL Rating: 5 Stars