Review: Scottish legal thriller

Relatively Guilty Review

William McIntyre Best Defence Book 1

I'm a sucker for a good legal thriller. When John Grisham puts out his annual contribution, I’m hitting the download button the instant it’s on sale and you might as well not ring me or text me or come knocking on my door until I’ve turned the last page.

Well, move over, John. And Rebus, and Lincoln Lawyer. I’m bingeing McIntyre.

William H S McIntyre, author of a series of Scottish legal novels, has my attention for the next couple of weeks until I’ve run through his opus and am waiting for the next.

As luck has it, that will be book thirteen, to be released in a few days' time on the day I arrive in Edinburgh.

Relatively Guilty

For now, let me talk about the first in the growing series.

Relatively Guilty was published in 2014, introducing the main characters and settings of the ongoing series. Given that in the nine years since, the author has produced a dozen more, that’s a cracking pace for crime.

This is a book written with the strategy of beginning with a problem, adding another every few pages, and just when there’s a bit of clear air in view, piling on a few more difficulties for the hapless hero

This commences with the first words:

He’d been stabbed through the brain.

Keep your eyes open. There are clues to the puzzles and problems. Just like the Edinburgh-based inspiration for Sherlock Holmes, Dr Joseph Bell, our lawyer protagonist is a creature of logic, at least when he is not putting out immediate fires and has time to think.

Unlike Holmes, he’s also a funny fellow. Or at least the chap putting words in his mouth has a droll sense of humour. The witty writing makes the sometimes grim plot come alive. I found myself reading on through some desperate scenes just to see if someone would crack a joke.

The protagonist, Robbie Munro, is a lawyer in the small Scottish town of Linlithgow, handily situated on the Glasgow side of Edinburgh.

He handles small criminal cases but is not at all averse to a murder or two coming the way of his struggling practice and the death described in the first sentence underlies all the action to come.

Write what you know

The author, William McIntyre, knows his subject intimately. A product of Linlithgow himself, he is a lawyer, a partner in a well-regarded Scottish practice, and well-versed in both the intricacies and arcane terminology of Scottish law, and the culture of modern Scotland.

He has authored a guide to single malts, something I plan to read at some point during my bingeing because a good dram of a good Scotch is just what helps make the story flow smoothly.

One piece of advice I might offer the reader with one slug of Lagavulin 16 too many aboard is to ferret out a notebook and pen, and every time a new character appears, write down their name and a few words of description.

The characters come thick and fast in this book, and every one of them is carefully slotted into the thickening plot. They are all marked out by quirks of speech or temperament and some of them are colourful indeed.

The lawyer’s landlord is a case in point. Using a hand tool to drive home a lesson to a business associate, he pauses:

I can explain in more detail if you like. You have got eight more fingers after all.

As one would expect in a book about criminal law, there are criminals aplenty. Refreshingly, the legal profession and the cops come in for a fair bit of well-deserved hammering. Lazy, incompetent, malicious, venal, and brutish are a few aspects of the officers and crew of Her Majesty’s Scottish Ship Justice. There are a few truly nasty individuals in silk robes and suits making life difficult for Robbie Munro, who isn’t above bending a few rules himself.

This is a book that sparkles. With wit, with Scots terms and manners, with surprises and excitements.

I enjoyed it immensely and immediately cracked open the next in the series, to keep up the reading pleasure.

Thankfully, many of the characters return so it’s not a continuingly steep learning curve. We can concentrate on the plot, not so much on the Who’s Who of West Lothian.

Kilt in context

As an aside, Scotland shines out in these books, and I love Scotland. The history, the landscapes, the food and drink, the unique culture.

There’s not so much the Hielan’ Coo and Rabbie Burns of the land on the lid of the shortbread tin, awash with kilts and claymores, so much as a modern nation with a depth of heritage. McIntyre’s characters speak — more or less — comprehensible English and are as well-versed in computers and online shopping as any one reading the books.

It’s just that they have a touch of atmosphere about them and nobody is going to mistake these murder mysteries for Los Angeles or Midsomer.

As the title implies, some of Munro’s family members make appearances. Munro’s father, a retired copper, has a network of contacts that come in handy. Brother Malcolm, ex-sports star, adds a different clientele. Girlfriends past and present play important roles in the plot.

The town of Linlithgow — birthplace of famous people beginning with Mary Queen of Scots and continuing on through peers and governors-general, concluding with William McIntyre himself — has its own role to play. Lightly fictionalised, it is character as much as setting.

I dare say that like the tourists seeking out the Oxford Bar — real-life haunt of fictionalised detective Rebus — Linlithgow has its own dedicated and growing band of fans.

Count me in. If I can get a chance, I’ll drop in next week for the odd stroll around the streets.

Britni

The bold links above are affiliates; buy through these links and they shoot me a few cents in return.

If you enjoyed this post, please consider subscribing. You’ll get access to all of my content (including member-only stories) plus every other article on Medium from thousands of creators.