In The Woods – Tana French

When a call comes into the Dublin Murder Squad that some archaeologists have found a body, detectives Ryan and Maddox are on hand to field the case. Against expectations, the body is not one long-dead they have unearthed, but one freshly laid out on the alter stone at the excavation site at Knocknaree. The victim is quickly identified as a young local girl, Katy Devlin.

So, no cold case this. But there is one, still unsolved, associated with Knocknaree where in 1984 three local children went into the adjacent wood and only one returned, bloodstained, traumatised, and amnesiac. The returnee was young Adam Robert Ryan, who subsequently moved to England, losing his Irish accent before coming back unrecognised to join the Dublin police as plain Rob Ryan. And now he finds himself on the new case, filled with opportunities to stir his reluctant memory into life.

His fellow detective, Cassie Maddox, is the only one who knows his past, but they are a tight platonic partnership, so she goes along with his unwise decision to continue on the case.

The pair work their systematic way through the police procedural, the routine enlivened by their banter and gallows humour. But progress is slow and unrewarding due to inconclusive forensics, alibis galore, multiple but weak motives, and unreliable witnesses. On top of that, Rob Ryan’s echoing past affects his judgement and leads to some bad decisions that threaten the case.

Will they find Katy’s killer? If they do will the case withstand Rob’s tainted approach? And can he, in the process, crack the twenty-year-old mystery of his friends’ disappearance and his own, guilt-ridden, survival?

Tana French keeps the pot simmering along for the best part of 600 pages, unfolding each thread with deft mastery of plot and character. There are more novels about the Dublin Murder Squad, and I wouldn’t rule out another dip in.

A Gentleman in Moscow – Amor Towles

The gentleman in question is Count Alexander Ilych Rostov, who in June 1922, aged thirty-three, is residing in suite 314 of the Hotel Metropol in Moscow.

Two things to note. First, though this is post-revolutionary Russia, the Hotel Metropol retains its luxuriant style due to its proximity to Red Square, the Bolshoi Theatre, and the Kremlin – after all, the comrades deserve some comfort, fine dining, and somewhere impressive to hold their interminable congresses. Second, though the Count’s title is redundant, he survives in this new proletariat world thanks to his historical support of the pre-revolutionary cause of reform.

But goodwill doesn’t last forever, and Rostov is called before a tribunal. He escapes with his life but at the cost of house arrest. He can return to the Metropol but never leave it; one step outside and he will be shot. And suite 314 is out of the question, it is a monastic cell in the attic from now on.

Rostov is, though, a gentleman, respected by the staff who continue to treat him with guest-like courtesy. He takes as his motto that a man must master his circumstances otherwise be mastered by them.

Those circumstances go on for over thirty years, during which time he: forges close friendships, then working relationships, with the Maître D’ and chef of the restaurant; has romantic liaisons with a leading actress in residence; befriends a precocious nine-year-old girl then, years later, assumes guardianship of her five-year-old daughter; agrees to assist a high-ranking party official to understand western culture; and befriends a American general, later diplomat, and supplies him with gossip on the party hierarchy.

The years pass surprisingly quickly - where is it going and how will it end are the hooks - though it takes the best part of 500 pages to arrive at a climax of sorts. Rostov, who carries the whole narrative, is a philosopher as well as a gentleman, and though he is confined to the hotel, the whole world enters its lobby, so it is never dull.

Phosphate Rocks – Fiona Erskine

An abandoned fertiliser factory at Leith docks is being demolished when a grisly discovery is made - human remains, but encased in a carapace of hardened phosphate rock that also encompasses the chair on which, and the table at which, the body is seated. And, it turns out, on the tabletop, an eclectic collection of objects.

DI Rose Irvine gets the job of finding out who it is and when and how they died. Her best chance, she is told, is to talk to a long-term employee, now retired, John Gibson. When he is brought in and the case explained he is nonplussed. But then DI Irvine presents him with the tray of objects, now cleaned of the phosphate, and his memory kicks in.

One by one, over the course of several days, he links each object to the history of the factory, to those who worked there, those who visited (in official capacity or otherwise), and the chemical processes that were carried out.

The structure of the novel is thus set. The objects’ stories are interspersed with lessons in chemistry explaining how to make various key components of the fertiliser industry – sulphur, potash, ammonia, nitric acid, sulphuric acid, etc. Possible identities emerge, are eliminated, are narrowed down, until a conclusion is reached.

Erskine is, or was, an industrial chemist and the novel unashamedly leans heavily on both memoir and an evident passion for chemistry, which creates an authentic and atmospheric setting for the mystery.

Some could find this mix clunky, but it worked for me.