A man walks into a banker’s mansion and beats him to death with a golf club in front of his wife. He then confesses, and the only question is why. He claims it was a random attack but the wife, Julie, and Detective Sergeant Alice Moody both believe otherwise, and start digging. Julie comes from a solidly loving family, all of whom have been suspicious of her rich banker husband from the start, with good reason as it turns out. The banker, Harry, is a fairly unreconstructed wanker. As their marriage turns toxic, Julie retreats more and more into alcohol and histrionic scenes. We feel for her, at least until later in the book when she reveals the full extent of her moral culpability. The true hero here is crackingly clever DS Moody, who struggles to climb a flight of stairs without collapsing but can read people like a book and just won’t give in. The Confession is an absorbing read but don’t rely on it to make you more fond of bankers. Or wankers.
