Book Review: The Christmas Jigsaw Murders by Alexandra Benedict

Edie O’Sullivan is more than happy to settle into life as an octogenarian curmudgeon, jigsaw-puzzle enthusiast, and crossword setter of some renown. The only people she can tolerate on a regular basis are her adopted son Sean and her ninety-something neighbor Riga, whose eccentric glamor is capable of overwhelming even Edie’s own standoffish intractability.

But if there’s one thing Edie hates more than she does most other people, it’s Christmas. The holiday has coincided with far too many tragedies in her life, leading her to refuse to acknowledge, much less celebrate, the occasion. So when a mysterious gift-wrapped package shows up on her doorstep less than a week before December 25th, she doesn’t quite know what to think. 

Inside the package is a small, incomplete jigsaw puzzle depicting blood-spattered black and white tiles and the crime scene outline of a body. The accompanying note warns her that if she can’t figure out what this signifies, four people will be dead by midnight on Christmas Eve and it will be all her fault.

Not being an idiot, Edie consults with Sean, who has been newly promoted to Detective Inspector with the Weymouth police department. Neither Edie nor Sean is entirely convinced that the “gift” is anything more than a weird prank, until a man is found violently assaulted nearby, with a matching jigsaw puzzle piece clutched in his hand. Realizing that Edie might be in serious danger, Sean forbids her from investigating further…as if being forbidden to do anything has ever stopped the headstrong older woman from going ahead and doing just as she pleases. 

With puzzle pieces continuing to arrive on her doorstep, Edie must use all the resources available to her to figure out what’s going on, even when some of those resources irritatingly exhort her to climb well out of her comfort zone:

“If you’d joined the cul-de-sac WhatApp group, you’d have known that by now.”

 

“I’m not a joiner, Riga.”

 

Riga sighed. “But it would help if you were. Everyone with cameras has gone through their footage for you. Mr. Pickwick said whoever it was didn’t come in a car–his CCTV shows the road.”

 

“They’re just being nosy arseholes.”

 

“Edie, they’re trying to help. If you could just–”

 

“It’s the obsession with true-crime podcasts. Everyone’s trying to be a backseat detective.” Edie knew her wave of defensiveness was hiding something, but she didn’t want to look inside at what it was.

 

Riga raised her penciled eyebrows. “And what does that make you?”

Even as her well-meaning neighbors attempt to help her figure out who’s sending the jigsaw pieces, Edie is forced to confront a lifetime of secrets that she’s kept long-buried and protected beneath her prickly exterior. But which of these secrets could possibly be prompting a devious killer to torment her with the puzzles she so loves creating herself?

Meanwhile, that same killer is having their own crisis of conscience. Compelled to kill, but just as desperate for Edie to stop them, the killer watches the blood pouring out of one of their victims and wonders if all this is worth it:

Blood pulsed out of Latimer, soaking into the soil and leaves of the woodland floor. Closing their eyes, the killer whispered an atheist’s prayer, then stopped. A god who would take a murderer’s offering was not one from whom they wished benediction.

 

Opening their eyes, the killer realized they were still grasping the log. They had to drop it, leave it for the police to find, but their fingers wouldn’t uncurl. They gripped onto the wood as stubbornly as Latimer held on to life. It was as if the killer was stuck there until Carl Latimer died. Perhaps that was how it should be. Latimer might deserve to die but, as a human, his life should be respected, even if it was taken. The killer stood taller under the dark forest sky. “I’m sorry.”

Alexandra Benedict weaves a terrific fair play murder mystery around the themes of connection, atonement, and the deadliness of assumptions, as eccentric, stubborn Edie tries to fight the habits of a lifetime in order to stop a surprisingly sympathetic killer. In addition to the absorbing main plot, this volume is filled with Ms. Benedict’s trademark word games, which fit even more seamlessly into the prose of this book than in prior novels. Revolving around Christmas, Charles Dickens, and Fleetwood Mac, the games provide loads of extra entertainment for the puzzle lover. I only wish I’d known about the two delicious-looking recipes included here for my weekly cooking column, though I was definitely more than satisfied to relish the rest of this terrific seasonal-themed volume.