Siân Busby (1960–2012)

“You don’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to know this one can’t be cracked — no matter how hard you try. Bet you a bob to a bootlace on that…. They shan’t thank you for wasting [police] time and money on a commonplace killing.”

So Divisional Detective Inspector Jim Cooper is told by an older and more jaded colleague; however, the terribly damaged Cooper thinks that everyone — even a common tart — deserves his full attention, telling himself, “Murder is murder.” And the more show more Cooper directs his laser-sharp focus on pretty, blonde Lillian Frobisher, the more he realizes that what at first glance seemed a trick-gone-wrong in 1946 still-war-torn London is actually something quite different.

Frobisher, still drawing admiring looks at 43, feels resentful of upper-middle-class women, cinema stars, her stupid husband Walter; her senile, bedridden mother, and her young, free-loading and free-wheeling lodger Evelyn Wilkes — indeed, resentful of just about everything to do with the post-war world, with its rationing, shortages, long queues, and austerity. While her husband was gone, Frobisher managed to use her glamorous looks to get herself attention, silk stockings, and perks from passing GIs and enjoyed herself, despite the blitz. On this day (her last, unknown to her), Frobisher decides that she’s still young enough to start over with a new man and a more prosperous future.

Told alternately from Frobisher’s account of her last days, Cooper’s account of his investigation, and the blurred remembrances of a petty criminal (a “spiv” in the parlance of the day) coming off a hell of a bender, A Commonplace Killing suffuses the reader with the atmosphere of post-war London and provides a tautly crafted historical mystery — a most un-commonplace novel, if you’ll pardon the expression. Too bad this will be the only DDI Cooper mystery we’ll get. Author Siân Busby died of lung cancer shortly after completing A Commonplace Killing. I mourn for that late Ms. Busby and for what might have been. show less

This book is being marketed as a crime novel. And although the story is told from the viewpoint of the victim, and a lonely police detective who is assigned to the case, the crime takes a back seat to the story of daily life in post-war England.

Conditions are harsh. Crime is rampant. The war may be over, but it doesn't feel that way to the people living there. Necessities are in very short supply and most luxuries only available through the blackmarket.

People line up for hours just for a show more loaf of stale bread or a head of lettuce. The victim dreams of romance and little luxuries such as Pond's cold cream, black stockings and tinned peaches.
The policeman also dreams of romance and a regular meal, the kind available before the war, instead of having to make do with stale bread sandwiches.

People are just making do, living in squalid conditions. Their homes were partially destroyed by bombs but they cannot move because they have no where else to go. Everyone is wishing that life could go back to the way it was, before the war.

An illuminating picture of life in post-war England. Definitely recommended. show less

A very well researched book about Victorian England. Sadly, the storyline became too laden with detail for me and spoilt the pleasure of reading it. I found it difficult to follow and persevered only because I had a free review copy.

Jumping in and out of POV was jarring. It made me think of "The Bletchley Circle," which was much better.