Book Review: The Beekeeper by Stewart Giles

One of the things I have come to dislike about police procedurals by US authors is the obsession with serial killers. It’s gotten a little better in recent years, but given the unassailable fact most people are killed by someone they know, the whole serial killer schtick has gotten really old.

It’s not a spoiler to say Mr. Giles’s quirky novel set in Cornwall avoids that obsession beautifully, because the joy of this book isn’t solving the problem but watching the characters struggle with puzzles both internal and external.

Briefly, this is about how Detective Harriet Taylor, who has transferred to Cornwall mostly because it’s the farthest she can get from her native Scotland and memories of her cheating late husband, figures out (eventually) who did in three elderly locals. In the process, she meets Alice Green, a local beekeeper whose best friend is the first victim. The second, discovered belatedly, is Alice’s husband Stanley; the third is Stanley’s best mate. If you’re seeing a pattern, you’ll understand why I said mentioning the “killed by someone they know” isn’t really a spoiler. You may also never see hollyhocks the same way again.

Like DC Tayler, Alice put up with a cheating husband for years. “As the years went by I soon developed a thick skin. It’s what we do—we women,” she tells Harriet. And then: “You know what, Detective Harriet Taylor? You and I have more in common than either of us realizes.”

What follows is a study in how we human beings, when we have an unhealed wound, can be drawn to trust others who share our experience of pain even absent any other element to support that trust. And how all too often that trust is horribly misplaced.

If you read mysteries and police procedurals solely for the pleasure of solving the crime, you may not find The Beekeeper to your liking. On the other hand, if you avoid this book for that reason, you’ll be missing out on a truly delightful reading experience. Mr. Giles combines the best elements of the genre with a character so superbly eccentric it’s hard to think of her as a cold-blooded killer.

Which is, of course, why instead of worrying about serial murderers, we might put out concern to better use watching out for Uncle Harry.

As an aside, this novel reminded me a great deal of the wonderful Cary Grant film of Arsenic and Old Lace, despite there being few if any actual parallels between the two. I wish I could say why, but there it is. Maybe it’s just the underlying theme that sometimes the deadliest among us are the ones we’d least expect.

In any case, I recommend you both read this book and watch the movie for a double-shot of entertainment.

(REQUIRED DISCLAIMER: I received a copy of this book from the publisher for review.)