Book Rating: ★★★★✰ (4.5 / 5 stars)
Alice Harris works a morbid job: she cleans up crime scenes! It doesn’t sound fun…but someone has to do it! But one day, upon arriving a crime scene, a cat begins to speak with her. What? Crazy, right? But this cat might just be a key to the murders occurring around town…and Alice might finally be the one to save the day.
I picked up this short story while on the incumbent bike the other. Already, I’m familiar with Violet Schofield’s writing, so I knew it would be a light hearted slice-of-life type adventure that would make me smile. Schofield has a way of putting the reader into the shoes of the characters. Even in this short book, we are drawn immediately into the character’s personalities; from the cat’s snark to Alice’s determination. This characterization is what makes Schofield’s writing shine, and not every author can connect with their readers in such few pages.
I think my only hang up is with the pacing, hence why I rated the book 4.5/5 stars. Personally, I think if the story was just a tad bit longer, it might have really helped paint a picture of the stakes regarding the High Heel Killer. But then again, I’m a selfish reader…and I always want just a tiny bit more to hit that sweet spot when reading a story.
Overall, I can’t recommend Schofield’s writing enough. Between this short story and The Chronicles of Polaris, I think I can say I’ll be a long term reader for sure!
What’s it about?
A short story about a socially awkward crime scene cleaner who can talk to cats.
People die every day in every way imaginable.
Sometimes it’s an accident. Sometimes it’s on purpose. Sometimes it’s just the course of nature.
People die all over the place. On the road. In hospitals. At home.
Sometimes when people die, they leave a mess.
That’s where I come in. Alice Harris. Crime scene cleaner. I’m the one who scrubs the blood splatter off the wall. I get rid of the couch that’s beyond rescuing due to the bodily fluids that have seeped inside. I clean up the skid mark (to put it nicely) from the carpet that someone left when they were scared to death.
Morbid? I know! It’s a morbid job, but someone’s got to do it.