Tag: The Dead House

The Dead House by Harry Bingham: Fiona’s Latest Case Takes Her to the Darkest Places

The Dead House

The Dead House

by Harry Bingham
Series: Fiona Griffiths, #5

Kindle Edition, 391 pg.
2016

Read: August 11-13, 2021

What’s The Dead House About?

The big task force that Fiona’s in, trying to get at the group she’s been on the heels of since book 1, is about to be shut down—they’re just not getting results. Predictably, Fiona isn’t dealing well with it. She needs something else to do to remind her why she’s with the police.

Circumstances too elaborate to get into lead her into being a detective on-scene near a small village to oversee a found body until the local police with jurisdiction can take over—but in the end, we have Fiona alone in a room with a corpse for a few hours. Naturally, she develops a strong emotional connection with the body and becomes determined to find out what happened to this woman.

There are no obvious signs of violence—and even some signs of care—to the woman, but she’s dead and she’s been left in a remote location without anyone notifying the authorities. And, it turns out, she’s been missing for quite a while.

Fiona needles her way into the investigation, of course (because what else is she going to)—and the path that she and the DI she’s assisting leads far beyond the small town they start in and to some truly dark places. (yeah, that’s incredibly vague, but I’m faced with being vague or giving you a few thousand words almost spoiling the story beats on this one)

So, what did I think about The Dead House?

Yes, over the last couple of books particularly, Fiona’s doing a good job on socializing, on connecting with people, on acting “normal” (a goal she longs for and yet doesn’t want at all). I love seeing that kind of development, as much as we like to see damaged protagonists struggling to cope—it’s always great to see them making healthier choices.

But at the same time…you put Fiona in a room alone with a corpse for too long so she develops a bond with the person she starts calling “Carlotta” (and resists using Carlotta’s actual name when she’s eventually identified)? I’m in. Fiona as the creepy detective who’s way too interested in dead bodies is just fun to read about.

Bingham doesn’t throw out all the progress she’s made, Fiona just sidesteps it for a little bit. Her natural tenacity and the people skills that she’s developing aid her in this investigation (and her self-destructive tendencies hinder her, too). It’s really the best of both worlds as far as Fiona’s character goes.

I wasn’t as taken with this story as I wanted to be—as I expected to be. And when the final whodunit reveal was made, I’d been waiting for it for longer than I should have been—not because I’m all that clever, but who else could it have been? That said, when the motivation and methods behind the reveal are made clear? That blew me away and creeped me out.

I can see how this is going to help the overall arc of the series, it had some great moments—and any time spent in Wales with Fiona is a reward. But I wanted a bit more from this one. Don’t start with this one if you’re interested in the series, but if you’ve read the rest, you’ll enjoy this one.


3.5 Stars

20 Books of Summer '21

The Friday 56 for 8/13/21: The Dead House by Harry Bingham

The Friday 56This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
The Friday 56 Grab a book, any book.
The Friday 56 Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
The Friday 56 Find a snippet, short and sweet.
The Friday 56 Post it

from 56% of:
The Dead House

The Dead House by Harry Bingham

The chamber we’re in isn’t vast by the standards of vast. It’s perhaps twice the length, height and width of that common room at Penwyllt, but it feels cathedral-like to me. Lofty and aerial.

I sit on a hunk of rock and wait for Lloyd (grinning) and Burnett (muttering) to appear. We congratulate each other. Learn to keep our torch beams angled slightly away from each other’s eyes, so we can see each other without dazzling ourselves.

Water pools in places on the floor, but is nowhere more than a few inches deep. Somewhere there’s a drip of water against rock. A faint draught.

Burnett sits next to me, mixing blasphemy and old-fashioned cursing in a way that is both dully conventional but also pleasingly heartfelt and direct.

Lloyd bounces round like a puppy. Splashes to the end of the chamber. Points out that the passage continues on from there. Pokes around a rubble of loose rock along the chamber’s right hand edge, muttering to himself.

When he’s done, he trots back.

‘OK? OK? You both all right? You’ve done well. That was a good crawl. Not as good as Ogof Daren Cilau, but still a good ’un. A really good ’un. Now, OK, take a break. Have a rest. I’ll get the sacks and we’ll set up base camp.’

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