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Ah, an autumn stroll through the wild beauty of Scotland, a grouse or perhaps a woodpigeon flushed from the woods by the spaniel casting to and fro, a gentle rain followed by a rainbow, and a dead man in a car that has fallen over a cliff. Senior citizen Henry Kitts is the recipient of such splendor, and it is his interesting point of view that carries us through a book feeble on plot.
During a visit to his ward, a young married woman, Henry learns her bank account has been cleaned out by an Internet scam. Retired from a banking career, Henry seeks financing to bridge his ward’s upcoming expenses. He has barely accomplished this when he finds the body of a troublesome businessman. The list of suspects comes close to home, and Henry postpones his return home a while longer.
The Internet plot seems a little facile considering that the average computer user is more savvy than many of the characters in the book. The banking aspect is overexplained, and the young woman Henry is protecting has no more personality than a paper doll.
What makes me almost recommend this book (though it does not deserve to be first on your bedside pile) is that the point of view is so unusual. Henry is an old man, in his view. Peppered throughout the book are several ordinary references to the need for a daily nap, the aches of his joints, the precautions an elderly person must take before going for a long walk, and the five benefits of using a chauffeur. This is so refreshing, when most of our fiction featuring seniors insists on creating lively, age-defying characters who rarely bow to their changing bodies. Henry is a cerebral, respected gentleman. If you are vaguely reminded of another author it might be Dick Francis (if he wrote about sedate retired jockeys).
The conclusion is not exciting, and the author conceals one clue from us which he produces by magic. Another clue is mentioned but not identified. There is an error regarding how fast a DNA test takes. However, the rest of the book is still interesting enough to take us tolerantly past these imperfections.
--Diane Gotfryd
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