“End of Story”
A.J. Finn
William Morrow, $30
“End of Story,” the second novel by A.J. Finn, opens with a female corpse floating in a koi pond. If you recognize this as a nod to the opening of “Sunset Boulevard,” in which Joe Gillis, the movie’s narrator, is also found floating dead, this is no accident, because this murder mystery is full of references to other mystery films and novels, from Agatha Christie to Raymond Chandler to Edgar Allan Poe to Arthur Conan Doyle to Dorothy Sayers.
Little references and bits of quotes are embedded throughout Mr. Finn’s book, like delicious nuggets of chocolate to be discovered in a scrumptious brownie. This is due, in part, to the fact that one of the main characters is Sebastian Trapp, a famous author of mystery novels starring Detective Simon St. John. But he is perhaps better known for the fact that 20 years earlier, his wife, Hope, and his young son, Cole, vanished on New Year’s Eve 1999 — as they say, without a trace.
Oddly, mother and son disappeared at the same time from two separate locations. Trapp was of course suspected in their disappearance, and speculation ranged from his having murdered them to other nefarious possibilities. Nothing was ever discovered. No bodies. No evidence of foul play, nor in fact of any play at all. Nothing. Vanishment.
In the story’s present (which winds back to six days before the unfortunate koi pond drowner is discovered), Sebastian is dying of renal failure and has three months to live. He has invited Nicky Hunter, just arrived from New York, to stay in his San Francisco home and pen a “private biography” of him. “I’ll be dead in three months,” he says. “Come tell my story.”
Nicky, a fan of Sebastian’s work, has been corresponding with him for five years. She is understandably trepidatious that she may be entering the home of a double murderer. Perhaps even a triple murderer, as Sebastian’s brother, Dominic, also met with a mysterious death, a midnight hit-and-run. That trifecta would potentially make Sebastian uxoricidal, filicidal, and fratricidal. A scary man for Nicky to meet alone.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. Rotten way to begin a story.” . . . To her surprise, she’s trembling. . . .
“I have seen those symptoms before,” he continues actorly. “We may take it that the maiden is perplexed. . . .”
And now she clocks it: Holmes, “A Case of Identity,” as the detective observes his new client pacing in Baker Street.
At this point, let me say that we are in the hands of a marvelous writer. Mr. Finn’s prose is abundant with striking metaphors and similes, masterful descriptions of characters and settings, and clever, sharp dialogue. He is impressively erudite regarding mysteries, wise in the ways and quirks of humans, and remarkably funny.
He also playfully injects mystery tropes and clichés into the story: cui bono (who benefits), cherchez la femme, and so on. He pokes gentle fun at the tropes, but also uses them to further his own story.
Madeleine — Sebastian’s adult daughter who lives with him — is writing (apparently not very well) a screenplay adaptation of one of her father’s novels. “She’s in the dining room, chewing on a sandwich and staring at her laptop. Simon St. John explaining to Inspector Trott the whereabouts of a murder weapon (‘It is not missing but melted: our friend the albino was stabbed with an icicle!’).”
Here’s the description of Madeleine: “. . . at last Nicky beholds her plain, pleasant face. She’s on loan from the prow of a Viking ship, yet she appears very slightly amused, as though she’s got a secret and it’s dirty.”
As in any mystery worth its salt, the novel dangles a wide and tempting assortment of possible solutions and potential killers. There is Sebastian’s gorgeous current wife, Diana, who was his first (dead) wife’s assistant. There is his troubled nephew, Freddy, who seems to have something to hide. There is his brother’s wife, Simone, and even his own daughter, Madeleine, who seems angry and resentful, and might be in correspondence with her thought-to-be-dead little brother.
All might have had motive and opportunity. Alternatively, perhaps neither Cole, the son, nor Hope, the wife, is even dead. No body was ever found.
“End of Story” is like Shakespeare’s play within a play, but even more complex. There is the whodunit of what happened to Sebastian’s family 20 years before. There is the story of Nicky, who fancies herself a kind of feverish detective and hopes to ferret out the real truth. There is the story of who killed or is about to kill the pond corpse. (I hope, dear reader, you notice how I am contorting to keep from mentioning anything that would be a spoiler.)
“Ye olde ghosts-of-long-ago. An instance in the present echoes an instance in the past. You certainly can’t write a traditional mystery without it. But, my dear child,” Sebastian says to Nicky, “you’re not in a traditional mystery. You’re in a psychological thriller.”
Nicky thinks it a silly line even as her blood freezes.
“Life is a thriller,” Sebastian tells her. “The ending is fatal and the conclusion is final.”
Not to brag, but I am very good, excellent even, at figuring out whodunit when I read whodunits. I say entirely without embarrassment that I had no clue whatsoever about the final revelations in “End of Story.” And that is not because of some cheap trick or some contrived plot device.
Freddy: “Some stories, they just end without you finding out what happened. You know?”
“I know,” Nicky answers. “I don’t like those stories.”
The big-reveal ending here is genuine, and slots into place with the precision of a Swiss watch and the satisfying thunk of a Mercedes car door closing.
“End of Story” is a wonderfully written romp and a most recommended summer read.
Michael Z. Jody is a psychoanalyst and couples counselor. A book reviewer for The Star for many years, he lives in East Hampton.
A.J. Finn, the author of “The Woman in the Window,” is a founding honorary co-chairman of the annual Hamptons Whodunit mystery and crime festival in East Hampton Village.