Death of a Dutchman

This book is up to Magdalen Nabb's usual standards. I have been delighted to find her books again. The pace, the details and the story of the book were captivating.

Perhaps if this wasn't the first Marshal Guarnaccia book I read, I'd compare it to others Magdalen Nabb has written (a dozen, so far). But as a first-time reader, I kept thinking about Simenon's Inspector Maigret, and so, using that as a template: The scenic environs--Florence here, rather than Paris; Italy, not France--provide a similar kind of pleasure; a trip abroad to a different culture. And with similarly intense protagonists. The reader can feel confident that no matter the mystery, both the Chief Inspector and the Marshal, with their dedication to duty and their native acuity, will inevitably solve the crime. But the Marshal is a notch above those he can dispatch within the Pitti station (despite the authoritative capped M), and is lower on the police pecking order than the Lieutenant, the Magistrate, and other capped officials in the Italian police bureaucracy. Unlike Inspector Maigret, in his roost at Quai des Orfevres (headquarters, not a mere police station), there's a self-effacing quality to the Marshal. In fact, he's in Florence from the south (earning money to send home), and so the reader gets a taste of the Italian north-south dichotomy. It's thus fitting that unlike Maigret, he is not supremely self-confident, but rather, self-effacing, often doubting his own abilities. The writing is good, with a smooth flow from description to dialogue, from recollected past to physical present. And both authors present, through their protagonists, a keen observation of details. What for me most separates Simenon and Nabb--though admittedly I'm contrasting this one book to the dozens of Maigrets I've read--is the intricacy of the mysteries themselves. Simenon is less interested in the unraveling than in his characters, and though this leads to an occasionally flaccid story, it gives him more leeway for psychological exploration. Nabb sticks closer to the objective details, and dwells less on motive. I Think, Therefore Who Am I?

First Sentence: `Signora Giusti!' protested Lorenzini, holding the receiver away from his ear and throwing open his free hand in despair. An elderly woman is known for calling the carabiniere station to complain. This time Marshall Salva Guarnaccia agrees to go in person. She heard an argument in the next door apartment, then silence. After talking with her for awhile, and learning she has keys to the apartment in question, he agrees to investigate, only to find a young man at the point of death, whose dying whisper is "It wasn't her." Nabb doesn't provide as strong a sense of place as some writers; her style reminds me more of someone so familiar with a place, they forget its significance. Where she does excel is with her characters and observations of people--the elderly woman afraid of dying alone, the blind man who can "see" through his other senses, the other policemen who work with the Marshall--these are all brought vividly to life. Marshall Guarnaccia is a wonderful character. He is a Sicilian stationed in Florence living without his wife and sons, as they are caring for his incapacitated mother. Because of that, he lives at the station barracks. He is dedicated, empathetic and caring, with subtle humor. Although this is only the second book in the series, as well as the second I've read, I've learned a bit more about the character with each book, and it makes me want to continue to learn more still. My criticisms are that there was an incidence of foreshadowing, which was irritating and unnecessary, and the conclusion was definitely unusual and a bit odd. I only recently discovered Nabb's Guarnaccia series, am loving it and delighted to know I've many more books in the series ahead of me.

In an apartment next door to his own flat in Piazza Santo Spirito, Florentine carabinieri Marshal Salvatore Guarnaccia finds his jeweler neighbor dying in what looks like a suicide due to his slashed hands. However, Salvatore listening to the Dutchman's last words and becomes confused when he whispers "It wasn't her". Besides wondering who is her, Salvatore knows there is not slightest evidence of foul play; not even a bruise on the dead goldsmith except for what seems like self induced cuts. Yet his gut tells him a homicide occurred. The Florence Marshal learns that the autopsy revealed the deceased died from a barbiturate overdose, which along with the slashed hands supports the suicide belief. As his superiors tell him to drop the case, Salvatore refuses although so far he has found no proof to hint at murder except the words of a nonagenarian with no credibility and a blind person. The second of the Marshal Guarnaccia Italian police procedural (see Death of an Englishman) is a terrific tale as the obstinate Marshal refuses to quit a case that seems to be going nowhere. Readers will feel they accompany the sleuth as he seeks clues in hot touristy Florence. A few twists enhance a fine investigative tale in which it appears the protagonist has no reason to suspect murder except the growl of his stomach insisting a homicide happened next door. Harriet Klausner