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    Haitian Graves: Ray Robertson Mystery
    Haitian Graves: Ray Robertson Mystery
    Haitian Graves: Ray Robertson Mystery
    Ebook90 pages1 hour

    Haitian Graves: Ray Robertson Mystery

    By Vicki Delany

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    RCMP sergeant Ray Robertson is serving with the United Nations in Haiti, a land of brilliant color and vibrant life, Vodou and vast above-ground cemeteries. Ray’s job is to train the local police and assist investigations. One call comes in from the home of a wealthy American businessman. The man came home to find his beautiful, young Haitian wife floating face down in the swimming pool. The American embassy and the Haitian police immediately arrest the gardener, and the case is closed. But Ray isn’t so sure, and he keeps digging. Until one night he finds himself in a Vodou-saturated cemetery, surrounded by above-ground tombs and elaborate statuary, confronting a killer with nothing left to lose.

    This is the second in a series featuring RCMP sergeant Ray Robertson on his various postings overseas.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOrca Book Publishers
    Release dateAug 25, 2015
    ISBN9781459809000
    Haitian Graves: Ray Robertson Mystery
    Author

    Vicki Delany

    Vicki Delany is one of Canada’s most prolific and varied crime writers and a national bestseller in the United States. She has written more than 30 books: from clever cozies to Gothic thrillers, gritty police procedurals to historical fiction and seven novellas in the Rapid Reads line. She writes the Sherlock Holmes Bookshop series, the Year Round Christmas mysteries and under the pen name of Eva Gates, the Lighthouse Library series. Vicki is the past president of Crime Writers of Canada. Her work has been nominated for the Derringer, Bony Blithe, Golden Oak, and Arthur Ellis Awards. She lives in Prince Edward County, Ontario.

    Read more from Vicki Delany

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    Reviews for Haitian Graves

    3.5/5

    24 ratings10 reviews

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    • 3/5
      Haitian Graves was a rapid read, more an extended short story. That said, it was a satisfying read with well developed characters. But, I read mysteries during extended plane flights. I would have enjoyed the story more if it were more drawn out.
    • 5/5
      A quick read, but a very enjoyable book. This is the second Ray Robertson novel and I really enjoyed it. Would definitely recommend to anyone.
    • 4/5
      I prefer a full length novel rather than the "Rapid Read" novella style of writing. That has impacted this review. That said, I thought the feeling of Haiti was well represented; the plot was complete and logical; the characters defined - within the confines of the length of the story. I would have loved a full novel.
    • 3/5
      Haitian Graves is a short, very concise mystery featuring Ray Robinson, a Canadian Mountie serving as a UN advisor in Haiti. At just under pp., the book has little room for extraneous descriptions or red herrings which contributes to its rapid flow. The story is more cozy than hard-boiled. While entertaining, it is not exactly exceptional. *This review book was based on an advanced reading copy obtained at no cost from the publisher in exchange for an unbiased review. While this does take any ‘not worth what I paid for it’ statements out of my review, it otherwise has no impact on the content of my review.FYI: On a 5-point scale I assign stars based on my assessment of what the book needs in the way of improvements:•5 Stars – Nothing at all. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.•4 Stars – It could stand for a few tweaks here and there but it’s pretty good as it is.•3 Stars – A solid C grade. Some serious rewriting would be needed in order for this book to be considered good or memorable.•2 Stars – This book needs a lot of work. A good start would be to change the plot, the character development, the writing style and the ending. •1 Star - The only thing that would improve this book is a good bonfire.
    • 4/5
      This book is one of the Rapid Reads titles put out by Orca Books. I read the first book by Vicki Delany in the Rapid Reads catalogue, Juba Good, and enjoyed it very much.Ray Robertson is an RCMP officer who is working with the UN training police in third world countries. After the devastating earthquake that hit Haiti in 2010 it wasn't only physical damage that had to be repaired and replaced. The Haiti National Police (PNH) were mentored by experienced police like Ray. On one shift Ray and his crew were called to the home of a wealthy American because his wife, Marie, had been found floating dead in the pool. From the beginning Ray thought this death was something more than a terrible accident and when the coroner's report found that Marie had been dead before she hit the water he was sure of it. He didn't believe that the gardener was responsible even though there was some circumstantial evidence. So Ray started nosing around on his own time and found the real culprit.Delany hooks the reader in from the first paragraph:Haiti is all about colour. Colour and contrast. Masses of red, peach and white flowers twisted around barbed wire. Brightly painted houses in the crowded slums spilling down the hillside. Cheerful ribbons wound through girls' hair as they walk through piles of garbage. The painted minibus taxis called tap-taps. Some of the tap-taps looking as though paint and rust are all that's holding them together.
    • 3/5
      Synopsis: Ray Robertson is a Canadian Mountie stationed in Haiti as an instructor and mentor to their police department. While on patrol with Agent Pierre Lamothe and several of his patrolmen, they get a call regarding a dead woman. The house is elegant, the husband is American, but the wife and her two young children are Haitian. Although there is a quick arrest of the gardener in this apparent murder, Robertson wonders why American Embassy officials are involved and why the evidence seems too pat.Review: This is a beautifully written and literate novella, presenting a mixture of police procedural and detective story. However, the plot is thin. Even though this is a 'Rapid Reads' book, I expected a bit more depth pulling in the title of the book and giving some color to Pierre and to the city. I had little trouble deciding 'who done it'; knowing why took only slightly longer. Overall, I enjoyed the quality of writing but expected more from the storyline.
    • 4/5
      RCMP Ray Robertson is on temporary duty with the UN in Haiti assisting the police department. A body is found, American they are told, an investigation begins. The body is the wife of an American executive in Haiti to bid on rebuilding after the earthquake. There are two children in the house along with security guard, a gardener and a housekeeper. The death is assumed to be an accident, the body shipped to Miami for autopsy, and everyone assumes the case is closed. But Robertson persists, even though he doesn't have the right to investigate which is the job of the local police. An arrest is made, but Robertson thinks it is the wrong person and continues investigating on his own. This was a very quick read. A nice summer afternoon repast while resting from gardening. I will look for other boos from this author.
    • 4/5
      Ray Robertson is trying clean up the reputation and retrain the local police under the auspices of the UN. Consequently, he has little authority when he takes his team to the scene of what is at first called a tragic accident. At first, he seems disconnected from events--nothing more than an observer. But once he gets his back up and charges ahead, he uncovers a far greater crime than the murder of a Haitian woman married to an American businessman.
    • 2/5
      How sad. Delany took a skeleton of an outline and published it as a book. The book has such unrealized potential. Does she not own a thesaurus? Has she never heard of descriptive adjectives? I was really looking forward to a book that could promote an island country that never catches a break. This wasn't that book. I thought the whole world knew of Papa Doc and Baby Doc. Not Delany. She throws in a reference to "Dictator Duvalier." Whaaaa?When I saw the book, I first thought it might qualify as a YA mystery. But young people also deserve well-written books with three dimensional characters. When the plots are located in real, actual physical places, the locations need to come to life. When describing the denizens of that location, an author has an obligation to evoke the street sounds of the vendors singing their wares and the colorful clothing they wear. Not all the men are lecherous, nor are all women whores, although Delany correctly attempted to educate the reader on the risks single, under-educated women face. And in Haiti, not everyone speaks creole, is poor OR rich, or is uneducated. The book is two dimensional, so it is no surprise that the characters are, too. Don't bother to read it. Especially, don't bother to pay money to read it.
    • 2/5
      Sergeant Ray Robertson of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police is on assignment in Haiti with the United Nations, mentoring and advising the Haitian police. While on patrol, Robertson and his team respond to a call from the home of an American businessman. The American had arrived at home to find his young Haitian wife floating face down in the pool. Appearances at the scene suggest that her death was accidental, but the autopsy results indicate otherwise. Robertson's authority doesn't extend to murder investigations so he's relegated to the sidelines as an observer -- as long as he doesn't interfere with the investigation. This becomes increasingly difficult for Robertson when he becomes convinced that the police's prime suspect is innocent, and that the husband, his security guards, and American embassy personnel are obstructing the investigation.This book is part of the Rapid Reads series intended for adults with low English literacy levels, such as ESL readers. I've read a couple of other Rapid Reads books that have cross-over appeal for readers who enjoy crime fiction in a short story or novella format. This book will have little appeal to readers outside its target audience. It must be a challenge to adjust one's normal writing style to the needs of low literacy readers. Delany's writing is adequate for the purpose, but it isn't elegant. Her sentences are short and choppy. Whole paragraphs consist of sentences starting with “I”. Delany also uses a lot of sentence fragments in her writing. This is a style that some writers, such as Louise Penny, use to good effect. I'm not sure it's a good fit for a low literacy/ESL audience. These readers would be better served by a style that incorporates complete and grammatically correct sentences. This review is based on an advance reading copy provided by the publisher through LibraryThing's Early Reviewers program.

    Book preview

    Haitian Graves - Vicki Delany

    TEN

    ONE

    Haiti is all about color. Color and contrast. Masses of red, peach and white flowers twisting around barbed wire. Brightly painted houses in the crowded slums spilling down the hillside. Cheerful ribbons wound through schoolgirls’ hair as they walk through piles of garbage. The painted minibus taxis called tap-taps. Some of the tap-taps looking as though paint and rust are all that’s holding them together.

    Right now I wasn’t admiring the colors of one particular tap-tap. I was hitting my horn and yelling at the driver to watch where the heck he was going. Haiti is also all about the noise.

    I’ve driven in many third-world countries, but Haiti’s capital, Port-au-Prince, is built into a mountainside. That adds another dimension to the thrill of it all.

    A deep chuckle came from the passenger seat. "At last you are getting the hang of driving in Haiti, mon ami," Agent Pierre Lamothe said.

    I leaned on the horn again and yelled some of the Creole words I’d learned. The driver of the tap-tap wisely granted me an inch. I eased the truck into the gap.

    The three cops crammed into the truck bed laughed.

    My name’s Ray Robertson. In Canada I’m with the RCMP. In Haiti I’m attached to the UN. I’m a mentor and advisor to the pnh, the national police. A one-year posting.

    How did a boy from the mountains of British Columbia get here? I like the challenges of UN policing. I like believing I can make a difference. Maybe even do some good. I was in South Sudan for a while. Then I heard they were looking for French speakers to come to Haiti. My mom’s from Quebec, and we spoke French as much as English when I was a kid.

    I slammed on the brakes. I’d barely missed hitting a tall elegant woman in a crisply ironed white blouse and dark knee-length skirt. I didn’t like driving this ancient, rusty pickup. Not with three cops sitting in the back on creaky wooden benches. No seat belts, no springs, a paper-thin roof. A bad paint job that said we were the police. A light bar and sirens that sometimes worked.

    One of the men shouted something to the woman. She ducked her head and hurried away. I rapped on the back window and yelled at them to leave her alone. Harassing women on the street didn’t inspire trust in the police service.

    The men laughed again. Whether at the idea of respecting a woman or at my bad Creole, I didn’t know. I never knew what they were thinking.

    Today I was in the Petion-Ville area. On patrol, teaching my men to keep a sharp eye out for potential crime. Petion-Ville is the nice part of Port-au-Prince. Large houses with maids and gardeners. Steel gates and armed guards. Swimming pools and lush gardens behind walls trimmed with barbed wire. But the roads are as pitted and choked with debris and garbage as anyplace else in Haiti. Here and there gaps appear in the walls, showing piles of crumbling rubble. Sometimes the rubble spills into the road. Maybe from houses that have never been finished. Maybe from buildings that fell during the 2010 earthquake. That quake killed some 200,000 people and flattened the center of the capital city.

    On the way to the beach resorts on the north coast of the bay, a small cross is visible from the road. The cross marks the place where thousands of bodies were dumped. A desperate attempt to get rid of them before the heat of the tropics took its toll. A naked brown hill, unadorned by flowers, grass or trees. A hill full of the dead.

    The same area where the dictator Duvalier dumped truckloads of his enemies back in the day. Or so they say.

    We passed a rubble-strewn alley. I glanced down it, to make sure no cars were coming, and saw a man grab a girl’s arm and jerk her toward him. I was about to drive past when he lifted his hand and struck her, full in the face. She would have fallen had he not had a grip on her. I pulled the truck to a sudden halt.

    What? Pierre asked.

    Let’s see what’s up. I got out of the truck and headed into the alley. Pierre followed. The men in the back of the truck jumped down. People began to gather. In Haiti, I could always be counted on to draw a crowd.

    Problem here? The girl was older than I’d first thought but still a child. Fourteen, sixteen, maybe. She wore a short, tight white skirt that hadn’t been clean for a long time. Her blue tank top hung in bags over her thin chest. The skin on her knees was scraped, and her face was streaked with dirt. Her skin was the color of midnight, and her black eyes were large, round and frightened. She was as scared of my uniform as she was of the man assaulting her. The man himself was pasty white, short, bald and running to fat. He wore clean jeans and a black T-shirt.

    He glanced at the maple-leaf flag on the sleeve of my shirt. No problem, officer, he said in English. His accent was straight from the back streets of Glasgow. He didn’t let go of the girl’s arm.

    Looks like a problem to me, I said.

    She tried to cheat me. I don’t like being cheated. Not by a baby whore.

    Let go of her, I said.

    He looked at me for a long time. His grip tightened, and the girl whimpered. He gave her arm a twist and then let go. Not worth it anyway.

    Are you telling me you approached this underage female for prostitution? I said.

    Who, me? Heck no, mate. He turned to the Haitian cops. She was going to take me to meet her older sister. Not that I’d do anything illegal, of course. I’m wanting to meet a nice lady to show me the city.

    One of my men laughed. I rounded on

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