We Begin at the End by Chris Whitaker

First published in the UK in 2020; published by Henry Holt and Co. on March 2, 2021

Life is changing for Chief Walker. Walk can no longer conceal the tremors caused by Parkinson’s. Soon he’ll no longer be able to function in his job as chief of police. He loves Cape Haven but the town is in transition — tourists are buying up the choicest locations — and Walk’s persistent attempts to prevent new building permits from being issued are a lost cause. The only change that Walk sees as an improvement is the release of his childhood friend Vincent King from prison.

When they were both young, Vincent killed a girl in a hit-and-run without realizing that the accident had occurred. Walk found the body. Vincent served thirty years in prison, doing all he could to make the time difficult, apparently to punish himself. He was attacked by another inmate and killed the man. The authorities chalked it up to self-defense, but the death assured that Vincent wouldn’t benefit from an early release.

When Star Radley, the sister of the girl Vincent killed, is murdered in her home soon after Vincent’s release, Vincent calls the police to report the death. The police find him in the home with blood on his hands but they don’t find the gun with which Star was shot. Vincent won’t talk about what happened. Star’s daughter Duchess was out running an errand and her son Robin was in his bedroom. Robin won’t or can’t talk about anything he might have heard.

Vincent is arrested and his conviction seems assured. Convinced of Vincent’s innocence, Walk looks for an alternative killer. He’s joined in that quest by Martha May, who was bonded to Walk and Vincent in high school. Martha is a lawyer who helps abused women, not a criminal defense lawyer, but she’s the only lawyer Vincent will accept. Walk and Martha have two suspects. One is a creep named Richard Darke who apparently tried to take advantage of Star in the past. Vincent refused to sell his family land to Darke, preventing Darke from completing a development that will vastly increase his wealth.

We Begin at the End mixes a murder mystery with a courtroom drama, adds a couple of orphans to beef up the human interest, and injects a bit of romance to balance the gloom of undeserved deaths. The orphans are sympathetic characters with contrasting personalities —six-year-old Robin is a sweet and innocent boy who deals with multiple losses as the story unfolds, while his thirteen-year-old sister has bottled up her emotions and defined herself as an outlaw, the prototypical bad girl who isn’t all that bad. If introducing two plucky kids and a lawman with Parkinson’s seems manipulative, an obvious attempt to tug at a reader’s heartstrings, Chris Whitaker deserves praise for his ability to tell a story that evokes honest emotion without feeling contrived.

The small town where most of the story takes place, as well as small communities in Montana and Wyoming, contribute to the novel’s realism. The plot gives meaningful roles to neighbors who seem to be at war with each other, creating an abundance of suspects for the two killings that become the story’s focus. It also introduces supporting characters who are kind-hearted, if a bit broken, offsetting the more villainous characters. Yet even the villains are multi-dimensional, capable of empathy and refusing to cross certain lines even when they follow their selfish instincts.

The story is sufficiently complex to sustain interest without becoming confusing. Credible plot twists bring new surprises whenever it seems that the mysteries have been solved. The ending is sad but the story as a whole is sad because it reflects the truth that life isn’t always what we want it to be.

Good stories teach good lessons. Much of the story, as seen through the experiences of multiple characters, is about overcoming fear, including fear that we will not live up to our self-imposed standards. There are moments of redemption in We Begin at the End. Moments of hope. Moments in which fears are faced. Moments in which demons are confronted and faced down. They don’t offset the story’s sadness — the sadness gives the story its honesty — but they offer reason to believe that hardship and futility are not the purpose of life, that we can endure suffering if our endurance makes life better for people we care about, that we can learn to trust others and to trust ourselves.

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Tall Oaks by Chris Whitaker

Published in the UK in 2016; published by Dover Publications on March 20, 2019

Tall Oaks is a place where people keep their scars hidden from view. The story’s first dramatic event, however, creates a shocking mystery for everyone to see. While Tall Oaks is both a crime novel and an ensemble domestic drama, the plot and its multiple threads are almost secondary to the carefully constructed characters.

Jessica Monroe tells Sergeant Jim Young that she saw a man wearing a clown mask on her baby monitor. When she ran to the boy’s room, the clown had disappeared with her three-year-old son Harry. Jim launches an investigation that rocks the sleepy town of Tall Oaks. He feel protective toward Jessica. She is needy and unstable, separated from her husband Michael, and losing Harry might just push her over the edge. No evidence ties Michael to the kidnapping, but the idea of a child snatcher in Tall Oaks is difficult for anyone to believe. Michael soon becomes a pariah.

A bunch of other characters are tangential to the kidnapping but play key roles in the plot. One is a teen named Manny who fancies himself to be a gangster. His mother, Elena, works hard to keep Manny under control, not that anyone takes him seriously. Manny is interested in a girl named Furat, who finds him amusing despite (or because of) his insistence on aping the language of a 1940s mobster. As a foul-mouthed kid with delusions of badness, Manny adds a dimension of comic relief to the story.

In fact, I loved Manny. He’s a liar who has a knack for telling the truth when the truth needs to be told. He’s also good to Furat, one of the few high school kids who does not regard her as a terrorist because of her national origin.

Manny doesn’t like Jared Martin, the third man his mother has dated since his father left her. Jared is plainly punishing himself. In a novel about people with secrets, the truth about Jared comes as one of Tall Oaks’ largest surprises.

Max owns a camera shop. Jerry is his developmentally disabled employee. Their interest in photography seems destined to play a role in the novel’s outcome. While Jerry is fearful and kind-hearted, he turns out to be more complex than the stereotype he initially seems to be.

Jessica’s Aunt Henrietta is married to Roger but interested in Richard because he’s a “real man.” She’s also interested in Eddie because he’s a hunk. Roger is having an affair of his own, so he might be a “real man” in his own way. Roger is from London and treats marital discord in the reserved and civilized fashion that only the British can muster. How the marriage will turn out is one of many subplots in the story.

While multiple plot threads bind the story in Tall Oaks, they all find resolutions, more or less, as the story winds down. Secrets are revealed, characters reconcile (unless they don’t), and as a mystery should, the story ends with a surprise. The plot offers many suspects for the reader’s consideration, but Chris Whitaker plays fair. The clues to the mystery are scattered through the story and the answer makes sense.

While the story is excellent, Whitaker’s ability to create memorable characters gives the novel its heart. With its delicate mix of comedy and drama, Tall Oaks is one of the most entertaining crime novels I’ve read this year.

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