Close to Death

“It was a tightly knit community. In fact, it was almost hermetically sealed. Yes, you could still hear the traffic crawling up and down Richmond Hill—particularly in the morning and evening rush hours. But the sound was counterbalanced by birdsong, the whirr of weekend lawnmowers, the occasional snatch of Back or Sidney Bechet through an open window. Everyone knew each other. Everyone got on. At least, they had until the Kenworthys arrived.”

From the beginning of the novel, Horowitz establishes Riverview Close as not only a small neighborhood but also a closed community. He lays out the advantages of the unique development of the neighborhood, representing the setting as a place out of time, separate from the busy modern world just outside the gates. With the Close, Horowitz manages to establish a classic cozy mystery setting in the middle of modern-day London.

“That’s the whole point of the meeting. To clear the air. The trouble with the Kenworthys is that even though they’ve been here for more than six months, they’re still behaving as if they’re new to the close and haven’t learned how to fit in with our ways.”

May has just closed the door after a confrontation with Lynda Kenworthy, and she and Phyllis are discussing the upcoming neighborhood meeting. The confrontation with Lynda, in which they argue about Ellery getting into the Kenworthys’ garden, is a typical neighbor spat. With it, Horowitz highlights the everyday nature of Riverview Close and the fact that the events leading up to Giles’s murder are commonplace. However, May’s comment about “our ways” illustrates the other side of a close neighborhood: The cliquishness and the expectation that those who move in will mold themselves to the community.

“But even as [Richard] stood there, crumpling the single page in his hand, with Damien staring at him and asking him questions he couldn’t hear, he knew that the first volley in a war had just been fired. Giles Kenworthy would have lawyers. He might have friends in the council. He was the wort of man who always got what he wanted and he wouldn’t have applied for planning permission if he didn’t think there was a good chance of success. But Roderick was going to stop him. […] It was a fight to the death and it was starting now.”

In these closing words of Chapter 5, Roderick foreshadows both Giles’s death and his own implication. The statement about a “fight to the death” is meant to direct the reader’s attention to one particular suspect, leading them to invest in the idea of Roderick as the murderer. In this way, Horowitz engages in conventional mystery genre tropes to build tension and suspense.

“It would be another six weeks before death came to Riverview Close and everyone who had attended the party would find their lives turned upside down. And throughout the police investigation, with its mutual suspicion and alternative truths, there was one thing on which they would all agree. Giles Kenworthy really should have been there.”

This is the closing statement of Book 1, and with it, Horowitz indulges in a classic mystery chapter-ending cliffhanger. He offers the timeline for the murder, six weeks from the date of the meeting, and points, once again, to Giles as the victim. The last sentence of the passage implies that Giles’s failure to attend the meeting motivated his murder. This suggests that the murderer comes from within Riverview Close, in keeping with cozy mystery conventions.

“Anyone who had read the four books I have written about my adventures with ex-Detective Inspector Daniel Hawthorne, may be surprised by this one. Where is Hawthorne? Where am I? What’s going on with the third-person narrative? None of this was exactly my choice.”

Book 2 sets up the structure of the novel, which flips between the Riverview Close timeline and Horowitz’s commentary in the present tense. In Book 2, Horowitz also establishes the purpose of his narrative thread, in which he shares his writing process and his own investigation with the reader. Horowitz uses a literary device known as direct address, in which the character speaks directly to the reader. The aim is to establish a connection with the reader and bring them into the writing process.

“If I have one abiding memory of him, it’s watching him hunched over a black coffee in his trademark suit, white shirt and tie, his shoulders hunched, gazing at me with those menacing brown eyes whilst tapping ash into the lid of his polystyrene cup. At those moments, he could have walked out of one of those films shot in the forties: a reborn Cagney or Bogart.”

Horowitz gives the first physical description of Hawthorne to the reader. He seems to be a stereotypical detective in many ways, with his habitual messy suit, sharp eyes, and predilection for coffee. With his references to James Cagney and Humphrey Bogart, Horowitz takes his characterization of Hawthorne a step further, connecting Hawthorne to two actors who played a wide range of detectives in the noir crime genre.

“‘But you will give me the solution!’

‘No. I won’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘You never know the solution, mate. That’s what makes your writing so special. You don’t have a clue.’

Had any compliment ever been more backhanded?”

Even though the Riverview Close case is long solved, Hawthorne isn’t going to tell Horowitz the solution. Throughout the series’s novels, Horowitz is usually several steps behind Hawthorne when it comes to solving the crime—according to Hawthorne, that is what makes the books work. He has decided to create this same dynamic in a new situation by withholding the solution from Horowitz. The blend of frustration and fascination that Horowitz feels is characteristic of his relationship with Hawthorne.

“‘From what I hear, Hawthorne never takes any of the credit.’

This mattered to Khan. He didn’t want anyone to think he was already giving up on such a shocking crime. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Why don’t we give him a call?’”

This scene introduces the investigating detective, DS Khan. Although Khan is hesitant to call Hawthorne, the fact that Hawthorne doesn’t take credit for solving investigations changes his mind. Khan’s career is important to him, and he doesn’t want his record sullied by having to call in help. This same reluctance fuels his quick dismissal of Hawthorne and Dudley after Roderick’s death, as well as his refusal to reengage with the case when Hawthorne lays out his theory about Adam Strauss.

“The Kenworthys’ home was expensive and wanted you to know it. The furniture was Scandinavian, the lights ultra-modern, the carpets ankle-deep and the paintings straight out of some smart auction house catalogue.”

Horowitz juxtaposes the Kenworthys with the rest of the residents of Riverview Close. While the Close is old-fashioned and quiet, the inside of the Kenworthy house is filled with Scandinavian furniture, known for sleek minimalist lines. Horowitz also implies criticism about the house’s lack of individuality with his comment about the paintings being “straight out of some smart auction house catalogue,” as if they were chosen for their monetary value rather than for their aesthetic.

“‘We’ve got nothing to be afraid of.’

‘We have everything to be afraid of. You know the way it works. They’ll be investigating us even now. Do you want to stay in Richmond?’

‘I like it here.’

‘So do I. But we won’t be able to. Not if they start digging.’”

Phyllis and May discuss the police investigation. While Phyllis is optimistic, May is more negative. This is the first hint in the narrative that their past is not how they’ve represented it. In accordance with the cozy mystery genre, the innocent elderly neighbors are revealed to have dark secrets and complex pasts.

“Hawthorne and Dudley had both been in this world once, following the procedures set out in Blackstone’s Police Investigators’ Manual, volumes 104. Now, for different reasons, they had been cast adrift, unnoticed on the edge of the crime scene.”

With the words “cast adrift,” Horowitz illustrates that Hawthorne and Dudley are similarly exiled from the police force, but for different reasons. While Hawthorne’s dismissal was for injuring a suspect, the reason for Dudley’s dismissal hasn’t yet been revealed. Hawthorne and Dudley are cast as peers and colleagues through their similar plights. This is in contrast to the different dynamic between Hawthorne and Horowitz. For example, Dudley often takes the lead in the interviews, something Hawthorne doesn’t allow Horowitz to do.

“‘I’m asking what sort of man puts jingoistic slogans in his front window and flies a Union Jack in his back garden?’

‘A patriot?’

‘I’m afraid it’s been a very long time since the Union Jack was associated with patriotism, Mr. Dudley,’ Andrew replied.”

In this exchange, Dudley represents the segment of the population who still see the Union Jack as a symbol of patriotism. However, Andrew is more aware of the other nuanced meanings of the flag. Beyond being a representation of the colonialism and imperialism of Britain, it has also been coopted by far-right neoconservative groups with racist leanings. Andrew specifically refers to the UK Independence Party, which promotes British nationalism.

“Curiously, what upset him most was the way I’d described John Dudley. He still hadn’t answered any of the questions about the man I had effectively replaced and he was as reluctant to talk about him as he was to tell me anything about himself.”

With this comment, Horowitz reminds the reader that he has never met Dudley and that his representation in the text is Horowitz’s creation. In addition, Horowitz’s jealousy and fascination with Hawthorne’s previous partner has been illustrated throughout the text. These two facts cast doubt on Horowitz’s reliability as the narrator of his own timeline.

“If I could find Barraclough’s wife, I might be able to track down the organization she had hired to help her. It might be an opportunity to find out more about Hawthorne, and there was a good chance that John Dudley was working for this organization too.”

The plot of Horowitz’s timeline takes a turn when he decides to embark on his own investigation of Dudley. This involves delving into the shadowy security firm that Hawthorne works for and that has always intimidated Horowitz; however, his curiosity outweighs his fear. This is a shift in Horowitz’s narrative. He moves from reading about a past investigation to beginning his own. It is also a shift in his character presentation, as his own detective traits come to the fore.

“I want you to understand that I’m not at all happy about this project of yours: you and Hawthorne. I was very annoyed that he came to you with the idea in the first place. I don’t want to be part of your narrative. In my business, we like to keep a low profile. In fact, no profile at all is preferable.”

Horowitz is face-to-face with Morton, the head of Fenchurch International, the shadowy organization that Hawthorne and Dudley work for. Despite Horowitz’s fear of the organization, he has gone right to the source, displaying his detective’s persistence. Morton’s reference to Horowitz’s “narrative” includes, in this case, both the actual novel he’s writing and the narrative he is building about his relationship with Hawthorne and Dudley. His comment also addresses the metafictional aspect of the book.

“‘I’m thinking about Death Comes to a Close.’

He frowned. ‘I don’t get it.’

‘It’s a play on words.’

‘I see that. But it doesn’t really make any sense. It’s life that normally comes to a close. How about Close to Death? That’s a little more direct.’”

Horowitz reveals the origins of the title Close to Death. As in the first novel, The Word Is Murder, a character other than Horowitz comes up with the title (in the case of the first novel, it was Hawthorne himself). Here, the idea comes from Morton. As with so many of his interactions with other characters, Horowitz portrays himself as slightly dim, giving the credit to someone else.

“The story doesn’t end the way you think it’s going to. You may discover things about Hawthorne that you wish you hadn’t known and once you uncover them, there’ll be no going back. It may end your friendship with him.”

Morton tries to stop Horowitz from investigating by telling him the murderer’s identity. However, it only piques Horowitz’s interest as he wonders why Morton wants him to stop investigating. The above quote reflects Morton’s attempt to get Horowitz to stop—it is another threat, this time to his personal relationship with Hawthorne. Despite Horowitz’s claims that he is not close with Hawthorne, and that he doesn’t even particularly like him, his envy of Dudley shows that he is much more personally invested in the relationship than he wants to admit. Here, Morton shows that this investment is clear to other characters as well.

“The more I thought about it, the more I regretted ever taking on a book. Despite what I’d hoped when I set out, it was much easier following Hawthorne around, writing down what I saw. Trying to piece together a solution from a mountain of information, not all of which might be reliable, was like trying to construct a jigsaw puzzle without ever having been shown the picture it was supposed to form.”

In each novel in the series, Horowitz reaches the point where he can see no way forward and regrets being involved in the project. Horowitz is finally seeing what being the principal investigator entails—what he describes is what Hawthorne faces with every case. This is sometimes referred to as the “dark moment,” where a character believes that there is no way forward. It often comes before the turning point in the novel, when a character makes a decision or acts in a way that allows the plot to keep moving. In this case, soon after this moment, Horowitz decides to visit Riverview Close himself.

“Dudley shook his head. ‘Happiness isn’t the truth, Danny. It’s making sure the bastards pay for it.’ A bitterness that Hawthorne hadn’t seen before had crept into his eyes. ‘Kenworthy was a prat. Money, old Etonian, neighbour from hell. But he didn’t deserve a crossbow bolt in his throat. And Roderick Browne was a decent man, looking after his sick wife. He was tricked, wasn’t he? Tricked and then got rid of. You’re right: we can’t walk away from this. We’ve got to get to the end.’”

When Dudley wants to drop the case because they are no longer getting paid for it, Hawthorne presses him about whether he wants to know the truth. Dudley recommits to the investigation—they both know that someone more devious is framing Roderick, and though they aren’t getting paid anymore, they commit to the case for justice’s sake. The comment about “making sure the bastards pay for it” foreshadows the revelation at the end of the novel, which is that Dudley is responsible for Adam’s death.

“‘You may find people are more forgiving than you think,’ Dudley said.

‘I don’t want their forgiveness. I just want to be left alone.’”

May has just revealed her story as well as Phyllis’s: They were both convicted and imprisoned for killing their abusive husbands. Not only has their quiet life been disrupted, but now they will also be forced to rebuild somewhere else to keep their anonymity. This exchange is a rare moment in the novel where Dudley shows empathy for an interviewee—his comment here sharply contrasts with his usual sarcasm and dark humor.

“And then Phyllis said—why don’t we all do it together!”

At their second meeting, the neighbors fantasize about killing Giles. Later, Phyllis shares that this comment was born from the fact that two people bought the same Agatha Christie mystery that week. Phyllis is referring here to Christie’s classic, Murder on the Orient Express, in which all of the passengers on a train conspire to kill a man.

“The six of them were sitting quite formally in the living room, facing each other on two sofas and two chairs. Hawthorne and Dudley had taken the chairs.”

In mystery novels, especially the classics, it is a convention that the detective gathers all the involved parties to hear the crime’s solution. In this case, only Hawthorne, Dudley, Khan, and Goodwin are with Adam and Teri in their living room. In this instance, Horowitz has given the reader a variation on this convention, gathering the two police officers and the two suspects as he reveals the true motives of Giles’s murder and Roderick’s death

“Had it been an accident? Adam Strauss, accused of murder, somehow plunging to his death. I tried to convince myself otherwise, but I knew it was too much of a coincidence. He had been murdered. There was no escaping it. And that led me to an inescapable thought.”

Horowitz once again tries his hand at detective work to investigate Adam’s death. Because of Hawthorne’s past, in which he allegedly injured a child pornography suspect, Horowitz immediately concludes that Hawthorne is responsible for Adam’s death. Despite Horowitz’s close connection to Hawthorne, he still doesn’t quite trust or understand his partner.