Book Review: Tell Me a Lie
Tell Me a Lie. Dana Killion. Monee, IL: Obscura Press, June 19, 2020, Trade Paperback and E-book, 273 pages.
Reviewed by marssie Mencotti.
Dana Killion’s protagonist, Andrea Kellner, is a no-nonsense investigative journalist and a former lawyer. Andrea is thrust into this mystery when she finds a woman's body propped up in a chair in the basement of an abandoned home purchased at auction by her sister. The location of the body and everything Andrea observes before the police arrive, make her question the circumstances of the death. She wonders if the victim was homeless, suffering from a drug overdose, had a medical issue, or was it something much more dangerous? A small wrist tattoo reveals the dead woman as someone close to those Andrea loves. Andrea is a truth-seeking investigative journalist who can’t stop trying to get at the facts surrounding this woman’s lonely death.
Andrea Kellner is a Chicago-style protagonist. Mysteries have detectives with quirks, weak spots, spotty personal histories, and Holmesian scientific deductive reasoning abilities, including the slap on the forehead disclosure or some other device that un-fogs an outstanding clue to bring the miscreant to justice. Many mystery writers use a geographical location as a part of their milieu. Tell Me a Lie is a distinctly Chicago mystery because Killion has built a detective that is as pragmatic, persistent, and persevering as this city. She takes us through the neighborhoods while speaking our shorthand. She also knows our network of having a guy who knows a guy, our loose but effective arrangement that covers everything we need to fix or function. Killion doesn’t miss touching on the power of the city’s aldermen and the often obtuse politics that keep Chicago swirling yet moving forward. Killion doesn’t bore with lengthy love scenes, inner monologues, endless self-reflection, gratuitous sex, or violence to dress up the real story. It’s all about “how did this person end up dead and did the body have any help getting dead.” There’s nothing London foggy about this detective’s fearless drive to put the bits together, solve the mystery, and then sit down to some great wine and a delicious meal.
Tell Me a Lie is a book for readers who skip the fluff and jump into the masterful pacing of critical information and the exhilaration of solving the crime with the detective—not ahead of her or behind her. Except for the detective’s bit of grousing that the dead body takes time away from her job, she is single-minded in getting an answer to this “locked room” sort of mystery. No dithering—she takes off like a starving hunter-gatherer, picking up any piece of information she can with the help of her assistant, an up-and-coming young journalist and researcher, Brynne, who taps her people network for even more information. Kellner follows the money, passion, greed, love, shadowy intent, and sometimes the unfortunate experiment. And, she continues to do her “other” job, albeit without much dedication. She’s a woman who holds down all of her obligations, both personal and private, without whining about her choices.
A word about the title, “Tell Me a Lie,” and the subtext about possibly dying alone. Killion leads us to think about what it means to die alone and what that means to her detective, but she barely explores that theme. I find it more intriguing that often Andrea Kellner is told a lie by the people she interviews. Those lies or half-truths propel and compel her to find out the real story.
There’s so much that I appreciated about this book. It is smart and never talks down about complicated pharmaceuticals, real estate, the world of drug rehab, or unconventional Chicago zoning laws. This detective is compassionate without being syrupy, not in need of hand-holding, and methodical and thorough, which makes for a fast and compelling read. Once you get on Killion’s rollercoaster, it is impossible to get off. There are a few small things that may disappoint the reader. The ending is a bit abrupt, and some items—not the crime—are foreshadowed heavily. Some male characters seem to get less page-time, and the ultimate involvement of the CPD in the case is a bit murky.
But in the end, I forgave everything because, as a Chicago person, I like Killion’s style reflecting the fast yet focused hustle of our city. I feel genuine glee when it’s portrayed as I experience it–a free and easy place on the surface but riddled beneath with a million paths to get what it wants. Tell Me a Lie is about that curious person on the street who can’t leave a stone unturned. Andrea Kellner doesn’t need a fancy CSI team, black helicopters of questionable identity, convoluted intrigue, or enough firepower to blow up a city block. Dana Killion writes a true Chicago mystery that’s an energizing and enjoyable experience.