Jon Spoelstra. Who’s Killing the Old (and mostly lovable) Mystery Writers? Spoelstra, 2023.
Who’s Killing the Old Mystery Writers has some echoes of Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None (a.k.a. Ten Little Indians). In this case, however, we know who the host is, and some of the guests know each other. Samson Aitch, “a massive name in mystery writers…second only to James Patterson,” has invited a group of seven mystery writers to a retreat in rural Oregon to collaborate on a mystery novel together.
Most of them had worked together on another novel which had become a bestseller. Except for Aitch, it was the most money any of them ever made on a book they had written. All of them were looking forward to the chance to duplicate the success of the first one.
There was perhaps a slight catch. In their first novel, one of the characters dies of snakebites by when he drives a car full of poisonous snakes. One of the contributors ended up dying the same way. Once his death made the news, the book sold like hotcakes.
As you can guess from the title, something similar begins happening at the retreat. One of the writers is killed by a long-range rifle shot while teeing off in a golf game. Something like that also happened in the first book. By various other means not mentioned in that first novel, some of the other writers die. Everyone starts suspecting everyone else.
Charlie North, our narrator, writes, but he writes nonfiction. He is a retired columnist and journalist from Chicago who covered the crime beat. He and his friend Ben, a retired police detective, were invited as keynote speakers to share some of their experiences in writing about and solving real crimes. Of course, they end up looking into the murders at the retreat.
For people who enjoy mysteries, this one is fun. Each writer has a different specialty: one writes cozies, one writes hard-boiled, one writes thrillers, one specializes in murders in Maui, one writes steamy tales featuring lesbians. Each day one is assigned to work with Samson and his assistant, Ichabod Crane (yes, that is his legal name), on a chapter. The goal is to have a novel of 28 chapters written in 28 days. But as some of the writers get knocked off, the plans keep changing.
The supporting cast is very good, too. Aitch has a staff that helps him. Is that attractive woman in her twenties really just his proofreader? What about his bodyguard? Charlie enlists some help over the phone, a private investigator from California and a dark net researcher from Oregon. Both seem to have ways of finding information others miss.
Our narrator has a sense of humor and is able to detach himself somewhat—but not entirely—from the goings-on and the rivalries of the different writers. All of the writers are at least fifty years old. Samson Aitch is seventy-seven. So there are certain humorous nods to being seniors, e.g., “old guys have plenty of open spaces on our calendars except for all those doctor appointments.” (175)
There are nods to a number of mystery writers in this book, but James Patterson gets the most mentions. Nor surprisingly, Who’s Killing the Old Mystery Writers? suggests Patterson’s techniques. His narrators are often detached and even unreliable. While Charlie seems to be reliable, he might be covering up something. Like some of Patterson’ stories, not all the loose ends get tied up nicely.
One great feature of this book, which will give most readers pleasure, is its epigraphs at the beginning of each chapter. These are not mere quotations as we often see in books, but very funny jokes or sets of one-liners about old people. Here is one example (I am putting it in my own words to condense it):
A wealthy seventy-two-year-old widower arrives one evening at his country club with a gorgeous twenty-five-year-old blonde on his arm. When she exits briefly for the ladies’ room, one of the other men at the club says, “Your date is very attractive.”
He replies, “That’s not my date. That’s my wife.”
“How did you ever get a young woman like her to marry you?”
“Easy, I lied about my age.”
“What? Did you tell her you were fifty-two?”
“No, I told her I was ninety-two!”
Some are even funnier. A couple had us literally in stitches. Sure, read it for the mystery, but enjoy it for the jokes—or maybe vice-versa.
P.S. One interesting detail from the story: Mr. Aitch says he was in rural Vermont near the Canadian border in 1995, isolating himself to write, when the Grateful Dead came to town. Bob Dylan opened for them. It was their last tour and a month from their last concert. This really did happen. Apparently, it was quite an event!