London, 1965: one city, two worlds - and revolution and murder are in the air...
Vince Treadwell investigates the seemingly unrelated murders of a playboy aristocrat from Belgravia and a young black nurse from the wrong side of town. It takes the detective to the illegal drinking dens of Notting Hill, the nightclubs of Soho and the exclusive gaming tables of the Montcler Club. As Vince Treadwell digs deeper he finds a world of espionage and corruption where the underworld mixes easily with the aristocracy and no one is innocent.
I agree with the previous reviewer - this is Goddard at his best. Gripping from start to finish Plus excellent narration.
The story set in London, 1965, begins quickly with two murders. One, in a poorer area of town, is a vicious and brutal attack on Marcy Jones, a pretty young West Indian nurse and single mother, witnessed by her young daughter. The second that of Johnny Beresford, in his sumptuous flat in Belgravia who hails from a monied family and lives life to the full in an alcohol, drugs and gambling fuelled lifestyle. Detective VinceTreadwell and his old-hand partner DCI McClusky are allocated the Belgravia murder; which initially appears to be a suicide but Vince is unconvinced and attention falls on his jet-set and beautiful girlfriend, Isabel Saxmore-Blaine. After much delving into the seedy underbelly of life, Vince comes to the conclusion that the two murders are connected but fails to gain the support of his senoir officers. He follows his nose, never mind the danger, to the end.
This is a very atmospheric book, with a feeling of "The Sweeney" style of Policing in that era with Vince engaging with many different characters again from that time such as celebrity photographers in Carnaby Street and Malcolm X supporters, gangsters and old Etonians whose power and influence now finds them involved and regulars at the gaming clubs which abound the city. Highly enjoyable and highly recommended.
The only fault I had with the book was the narration which was a bit irritating as the reader Paul Thornley had a quirky "stacatto" style throughout which for me detracted from the overall pleasure of the book.
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