Marianne Vincent
Blow Back is the fifth book in the Enzo Macleod Investigation series by Scottish journalist, screenwriter and author, Peter May. Having achieved more than the French police had managed to with four of Roger Raffin’s cold cases, Enzo Macleod heads to the auberge at Saint-Pierre that houses Chez Fraysse, a Michelin-three-starred restaurant. Unlike the reception he received with earlier cases, he is made welcome by both the young Gendarme, Dominique Chazal, and the victim’s widow and older brother: all claim that their most fervent desire is for Enzo to solve the murder of celebrity chef, Marc Fraysse. On his customary afternoon run, seven and a half years earlier, Marc was shot dead in a buron on the ridge track, his mobile phone missing. But not everyone at Chez Fraysse seems happy with Enzo’s presence. Elisabeth Fraysse maintains that Marc was loved by all, had no enemies except for the food critic who made public a rumour that Marc was about to lose a star. Dominique tells Enzo she was unimpressed with the detective high fliers who came to investigate. Finding Marc’s laptop still in his bureau, Enzo concludes she may be right. Incredibly, it seems that investigators, when they did not find a document stating in 36-point font “My killer is XX”, looked no further. Enzo does, with an interesting result. Enzo has set up someone on staff to helpfully provide inside information, although that backfires in an unexpected manner. The gossip thus garnered does provide three possible suspects; perusal of the draft of Marc’s memoir yields further motives; and a certain compulsive vice of Marc’s points to yet more. As usual, Enzo attracts a woman: this one conveniently owns the sniffer dog that comes in handy later. There’s an attempt on his life, a couple of trips to Paris, some welcome and some unwelcome news about his daughter, Kirsty, and a favour called in from a documents expert. Three young women press Enzo to demand access to the baby son he has not yet seen. While it’s true the setting is a gourmet restaurant with a seventy-thousand bottle cellar, Enzo waxes lyrical about meals and wines so many times that it does get just a bit tedious. And it seems odd that Enzo only reads the earlier parts of Marc’s memoir (which, incidentally set him off on uncomfortable reminiscences of his own) when the most recent might have provided more relevant information. Despite a few plot holes, this is still an enjoyable read: there are plenty of red herrings (not all of them convincing) in the lead up to a dramatic climax that involves guns, quite a bit of spilled wine and broken glass, and the twist is excellent. The next instalment, Cast Iron is eagerly anticipated.