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.
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