A Song for the Dark Times   by Ian Rankin

Two stories in one which are subversively intertwined, plus a surprisingly engaging Cafferty side-show.

Two whodunnits, with a connection: A man in the rich London set has money which can be used to secure development on Scottish land, which covers a historic WWII prison camp and a modern commune. Somebody killed this person in Edinburgh, and the partner of Rebusʼ daughter, fascinated by the history of the WWII camp, goes missing, eventually to be found murdered.

The son-in-lawʼs deep interest in the former prison stirred up bad feelings in a local resident who had been in the camp during the war. He got a younger relation to do his bidding. The whole affair was investigated by Rebus, and there unfolds an interesting if not simple story about life and happenings during and since the camps were created. This all takes place in an idyllic village 250 miles from Rebusʼ Edinburgh, and Rebus spends all his time there trying to help his daughter come to terms with things and deal with the fact that she is the prime suspect (even Rebus has fragments of doubt). Thus Rebus works alone, with his former colleague Siobhan Clarke at the end of a telephone in Edinburgh. All the prose therefore revolves around Rebus getting to know the locals. The plotʼs pinch-point is that the one person who knows the historical truth has shut his thoughts away for this own well-being. The fact he turns out to be the driver of the murder is not such a surprise in the end. Has to be said, the ultimate culprit does not feature in the work until he is uncovered (unless I missed something). Although there is plenty of dialogue, one doesnʼt really feel like they get to know many of the people--except the lady manager of a local bar/hotel who provides Rebus sustenance: place to stay, office to use, and an over-easy camaraderie from a very early stage.

The second murder happened in Edinburgh to a man who went to study at the university; a Saudi Arabian national, his father in detention over there, and loaded with money. His circle of acquaintances were of the same ilk and were resident in Edinburgh by the same privileged choice to attend that university. It turned out that none of those nefarious people were really involved, but a man had flown up from London, hired a car, made the killing, and then flown straight back. The thing seeming to connect everything together is one Lord Strathy, who has his ancestral mansion close to Rebusʼ daughter, owns all the land there, and is connected to many people including a Scottish politician and a number of socialites. His disappearing for two weeks in the middle of the investigations is a convenient, and slightly annoying, plot twist.

The whole work is then wound around Cafferty, running a nightclub with VIP areas in the basement, filming and recording the conversations which go on there. He uses this to discover that the politician is interesting, and that Rebusʼ bossʼ husband is dirty. This he uses to blackmail the police unit into helping him learn more about the politician. And into the mix is a police officer who comes in from a special investigations branch, is known to cover up information of national interest of diplomacy (hence his involvement in the first place). He is paired with Clarke, who tracks his relationship with Cafferty, who coerces the man to be his insider, and Clarke generally tip-toes around him.

Cafferty is no longer portrayed as the outright thuggish menace to everyone he once was, but is more balanced, shown as someone trying to get involved in crime above his league, with the merest threat of violence lurking in the background. He is clever, imposing, delicately intimidating, cunning, but shown to be someone struggling with things he does not understand. His place in the world is seen to be cemented, and his aspirations will never be satiated. Maybe this is actually the best part of personification in the book.

And so it is a very complicated work, with, really, three or four too many characters. It is however spellbinding and might be one of Rankinʼs very best. There is a real sense of distance between the two centres of activity, and the remote location in particular feels atmospheric. Many of the characters are quite thin, though you feel you get to know each one as the police visit their houses and conduct interviews at the local stations. The high-society characters remain quite mysterious and not really developed. On the whole the book has too many characters to be able to get intimate with any of them. It is right that many are going to be cagey and therefore kept at a distance in the writing, but I feel these books would be better if Rebus actually made more friends and worked as a team, as Rankin is great with personal chemistry.

At times it feels like the need to involve foreign billionaires, national politicians, landed gentry is a bit flung together and too tenuous to really matter, though the development of the Lordʼs daughter as the grounded one who lives in an inaustere place and is the de-facto head of the family business is interesting, and could possibly have been drawn out more.

The ending, as with so many of Rankinʼs books, is awkward, with Rebus being left unconscious but not killed by the murderer who knows that the net is about to close on him.

Interestingly, the book makes a passing reference to the very first book thirty years ago, both in real time and in story time, acknowledging Rebusʼ daughter re-making a rare appearance into these works.

Riveting, unputdownable. Flawed in all the right ways.