A Son of the Rock

Polygon, 2019, 281 p.

The book’s title perhaps says it all – there are murders, some scenes are set in Glasgow’s Merchant City – but is a trifle misleading. The action centres not on the Merchant City itself but on the so-called Merchant City Health Centre, a massage parlour – and an establishment with all the connotations that description of a business inevitably invokes. This is staffed by women in white coats – at least until they take them off to get down to offering extras. The most important of these to the plot are the beautiful Miranda, with the beaming smile and that way of saying, “How are you?” to her regulars, no nonsense up-front Claudia, the conventionally attractive Candy, the more homely in style Annette, and new girl Justine.

The narrative is mainly double stranded, Annette, from whose viewpoint we see the goings-on in the brothel (let’s not mince words,) and barman Jack who is resorting to paying for his sexual pleasures after his wife left him some time ago. There are also chapters from the murderer’s viewpoint, outlining his modus operandi. A psychologist later on suggests that because the victims are all men the murderer is in fact a woman but the treatment of his contribution leaves little doubt that view is a red herring.

The first victim was one of the Health Centre’s clients but that could have been coincidence. When the second also turns out to be a patron Annette in particular feels they ought to contact the police but Edna at front of house does not want to attract their attention. But it comes anyway. There are subplots involving the proprietor of a free newspaper who wants to rid Glasgow of “havens of vice” and a client of the Health Centre who beats up one of the sex-workers. (The revenge Claudia takes on him is well deserved and condign.)

Murder in the Merchant City does not have as many amusing moments as McAllister’s previous Glasgow murder novel Close Quarters, possibly because its contents do not range about Glasgow’s West End quite so much. Its characters are well enough rounded, though some occupy the novel as representatives of types and perhaps Annette comes a bit too close to the designation “whore with a heart of gold.” Her motives are sound and reflect well on her.

It’s an enjoyable enough read and comes as close to a “cosy crime” novel as any modern example of the genre.

Pedant’s corner:- “none of the other girls were using it” (none …. was using it.)