THE CORPSE FLOWER

Hancock’s striking debut rips the lid off a 3-year-old murder case and reveals even uglier secrets beneath.

DS Erik Schäfer, of the Copenhagen police’s Violent Crimes Unit, is perfectly satisfied that he knows who cut attorney Christoffer Mossing’s throat and left him to bleed out in his own bed. Minutes after the murder, the security camera in Mossing’s driveway captured an image of Anna Kiel leaving the house without making the slightest effort to conceal herself. But that was the last anyone saw of Anna—until now, when she’s begun to send insinuating notes to Demokratisk Dagblad business reporter Heloise Kaldan that are unsettling in their reference to amorphophallus titanum, the so-called corpse flower native to Sumatra, and their ritualistic closing lines and disturbingly detailed knowledge about the scant details of Heloise’s private life. Already treading on thin ice ever since the confidential information her lover, Martin Duvall,  the communications chief to the commerce secretary, provided for her exposé of a fashion mogul’s investment in a textile factory in Bangalore didn’t quite pan out, Heloise strains to avoid any contact with the presumptive killer. The deeper she digs into the cold case, however, the closer its nightmarish details seem to impinge on her own past. Schäfer, meanwhile, is brusquely brushed off by real estate tycoon Johannes Mossing, who seems actively opposed to getting justice for his son’s murder. The highly suspicious hanging of Ulrich Andersson, the ex-reporter who covered the case for the Dagblad, kicks the investigation into high gear. But it won’t be laid to rest until Heloise comes face to face with Anna and hears why she was so indifferent to that security camera three years ago.

Scandinavian noir at its noirest. It’s hard, maybe unthinkable, to imagine how Hancock will follow it up.