Holding the baby…
When former leading politician Bernhard Klausner dies, his colleague is astonished to discover a huge stash of cash hidden in his cabin. Because of the political sensitivity the Chief of Police asks Inspector William Wisting to carry out a confidential investigation to find out where the cash came from. Wisting does what any top police officer asked to investigate a sensitive case would naturally do – he tells the whole story to his journalist daughter and asks her to help with the investigation, clearly feeling that the entire resources of the Norwegian police force which have been put at his disposal for the case simply won’t be as competent as a jobbing free lance reporter with babysitter issues. Meantime, Amalie, the baby in question, entertains us all with her charming baby ways throughout the entire book. Gosh.
As you will gather, the idea of Wisting involving his daughter in a sensitive case blew the story way over the credibility line even before it started, but I persevered. Just like Amalie did when she struggled to complete her ten-piece jigsaw with a picture of a cow on it. Next thing we know Wisting decides the safest place to keep the vast haul of cash is, no, not in some police security vault or even in a bank, but in his own basement. I began to wonder if the Norwegian police force is actually a professional one at all, or maybe it’s modelled on a Toytown version. Then, because his daughter Line is investigating the case for him, Wisting stays at home to babysit Amalie, as you do. Amalie likes to have her tinned stew mushed up for her, by the way – isn’t that adorable?
The initial premise is interesting, but the storytelling reduces it to an overlong, repetitive and highly confusing account of every detail of the investigation. The reader will follow Line or one of the police investigators as they interview a witness or read some reports and then that investigator will report what we’ve just read to Wisting so we get to read it all for a second time. The investigation barely moves for the first 60% of the book, with them simply confirming information that was already in the police files and speculating endlessly about the same things over and over. Meantime, Amalie plays games on Grandpa’s iPad – the one he uses for accessing confidential police files.
The last 40% might be brilliant. I wouldn’t know since I skimmed it to find out whodunit, or rather whodunwhat. But when I focussed back in at 90% only to find Amalie had woken up from a nap and was calling for her Mummy, I decided to leave them all to it. Now I’ll never know what the plot was about, and d’you know? I’m fine with that.
Recommended for people who are desperate to know if Amalie managed to complete her jigsaw. But not so much for people who like crime novels to have an air of credibility, some forward momentum, a decent pace and no babies.
NB This book was provided for review by the publisher, Penguin UK – Michael Joseph.