Out of the Deep I Cry

Publisher's Weekly gives Out of the Deep I Cry starred review!

3/8/2004

OUT OF THE DEEP I CRY: A Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne Mystery Julia Spencer-Fleming. St. Martin's Minotaur/Dunne, $24.95 (304p) ISBN 0-312-31262-8

In Agatha winner Spencer-Fleming's triumphant third novel (after 2003's A Fountain Filled with Blood), Clare Fergusson, Anglican priest and ex-army helicopter pilot, and Sheriff Russ Van Alstyne investigate the hidden secrets, past and present, of a prominent Millers Kill, N.Y., family-and must also face the hidden secrets of their own hearts. When the roof of St. Alban's Episcopal Church springs a leak that threatens to destroy a beautiful stained-glass window, Clare calls an emergency vestry meeting only to discover that paying for the repairs is more complicated than she expected. Mrs. Marshall, a wealthy parishioner, agrees to donate the money, though it will mean the withdrawal of funds from the town health clinic. Shortly after hearing the news, Dr. Rouse, the clinic's respected director, disappears under baffling circumstances. Since her first outing, In the Bleak Midwinter (2002), Clare has grown in complexity, as shown in a number of exquisitely described scenes between her and Russ in the church. The season of Lent serves as a most fitting backdrop, starting with Ash Wednesday and culminating in the Great Easter Vigil. The author expertly portrays the power of grief, guilt, greed and love and their effect on good people in a story as chilling as the month of March in Millers Kill. A subtle sense of humor further enhances this poignant and provocative mystery. (Apr. 21)

Forecast: A national author tour soon after Easter can only help build Spencer-Fleming's fan base among mystery-loving Episcopalians and readers of thoughtful, sensitive fiction generally. Copyright Reed Business Communications, 2004

Lent; season of repentance. The Adirondack town of Millers Kill hunkers down against Winter's last siege. When the local free clinic's doctor disappears, Episcopal priest Clare Fergusson and Police Chief Russ Van Alstyne pursue an investigation taking them deep into the town's history -- the Jazz Age, Prohibition, and the Great Depression. From the unbearable heartache in a scattering of graves to the stony deceits that led to the creation of the clinic, they explore the pain and desperation of a past still rippling through lives all around them. Dredging up the icy core of justice long deferred, they struggle with increasing desperation against the heat of their growing attachment to one another.

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(0-312-31262-8)

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Russ Van Alstyne had just gotten a tug on his line when he saw the old lady get up from between the headstones she had been trimming, lay down her gardening tools, and walk into the reservoir. She had been tidying up a tiny plot, eight moldering tombstones tucked under the towering black pines, so close to the edge of Stewart's Pond Reservoir that a good motor boat wake could have washed the edge of one of the stones. She had appeared at some point after he and Shaun had had launched their rowboat, and he had noted her, now and then, while they had drifted in the sunshine.

They had been fishing a couple hours already, enjoying the hot weather, and some brews, and some prime grass Shaun's older brother had scored down to Albany, but Russ had only landed a few sunnies, crap fish he threw back as soon as he had them off the hook.

So when his five pound test tightened like a piano wire and his bobber disappeared beneath the water, he sat up, excited. He knew he had something good. Maybe a trout. He had just stowed his can of Pabst Blue Ribbon in the bottom of the boat and flicked off his safety to let the fish run some more line when he noticed the old woman. She had on a loose print dress, like one of his mom's housecoats, and it rose around her legs as she waded slowly away from the shore.

"Shaun, check this out," he said, uncertain that he was reading the situation right. "What's it look like that old lady's doing?"

Shaun turned his head, swinging his graduation tassel, which he had attached to his fishing hat. He twisted his upper body around for a better view. "Swimming?"

"In a dress?"