Birmingham, England, 1943.
While the whine of the air raid sirens might no longer be rousing him from bed every night, a two-decade-old unsolved murder case will ensure that Chief Inspector Mason of Erdington Police Station is about to suffer more sleepless nights.
Young Robert McFarlane’s body was found outside the local church hall on 30th September 1923. But, his cause of death was drowning, and he’d been missing for three days before his body was found. No one was ever arrested for the crime. No answers could ever be given to the grieving family. The unsolved case has haunted Mason ever since.
But, the chance discovery of another victim, with worrying parallels, sets Mason, and his constable, O’Rourke, on a journey that will take them back over twenty-five years, the chance to finally solve the case, while all around them the uncertainty of war continues, impossible to ignore.
An intriguing title, an enticing cover, this book has your full attention before you even start reading it. And once you do, it’s impossible to put down until it’s finished, just like a lovely bowl of custard!
I adored this book. It’s different, it’s fascinating, it’s lively and also poignant. I think the wartime setting comes over extremely well with the lurking presence of stress, worry and fear for the future. It really gives you food for thought (and I don’t just mean custard).
Mason and O’Rourke make a good team. At first glance they may not appear particularly inspiring, but each has strength and weaknesses, and they work well together.
So much to enjoy in this absorbing, moving mystery.
Purchase Link – mybook.to/TheCustardCorpses
I’m an author of historical fiction (Early English, Vikings and the British Isles as a whole before the Norman Conquest) and fantasy (Viking age/dragon-themed). I’ve recently written a relatively modern mystery novel set in 1943. I was born in the old Mercian kingdom at some point since 1066. Raised in the shadow of a strange little building, told from a very young age that it housed the bones of long-dead Kings of Mercia and that our garden was littered with old pieces of pottery from a long-ago battle, it’s little wonder that my curiosity in Early England ran riot. I can only blame my parents!
I write A LOT. You’ve been warned!
Find me at www.mjporterauthor.com and @coloursofunison on twitter.
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