Black Widows by Cate Quinn
BLAKE'S DEAD. HIS WIFE KILLED HIM. THE QUESTION IS: WHICH ONE?
The only thing the three women had in common was their husband. And, as of this morning, that they're each accused of his murder.
Blake Nelson moved into a hidden stretch of land - a raw paradise in the wilds of Utah - where he lived with his three wives: Rachel, the chief wife, obedient and doting to a fault. Tina, the other wife, who's everything Rachel isn't. And Emily, the youngest wife, who knows almost nothing else.
When their husband is found dead under the desert sun, the questions pile up. What are these women to each other now that their husband is dead? Will the police uncover the secrets each woman has spent her life hiding? And is one of them capable of murder...?
Black Widows is a distinctive and original psychological thriller, igniting conversations around marriage, relationships, religion and gender.
About the Author.
Cate Quinn is a travel and lifestyle journalist for The Times, the Guardian and the Mirror, alongside many magazines. Prior to this, Quinn's background in historic research won prestigious postgraduate funding from the British Art Council. Quinn pooled these resources, combining historical research with first-hand experiences in far-flung places to create critically acclaimed and bestselling historical fiction.
Today is a bit different from the usual review as I have an extract from the novel for you!
1
Rachel, first wife
Lord forgive me, I lied to a policeman today. I told him Blake had never raised a hand to me. I’d like to say I was protecting his memory, but that would be another lie. The truth is, I simply couldn’t stand another judgment from an outsider about our way of life. I was at the ranch when the officers came. I’d laid out my jars, neat and clean, and was filling them with cut salted potatoes. We had a big rain this year and more crop than average, so there was plenty to can. The routine always did soothe me. It reminds me of being a little girl canning food for winter, my brothers and sisters all barefoot in the kitchen. I was humming a little tune, wiping the rims, screwing the lids. My pantry had grown steadily full, with brightly colored vegetables and corned beef. Never could get the meat to look pretty, but it sure tastes good. I guess the Nelson ranch looks plain to city folk. It’s an old smallholding of a few acres, which held a handful of cattle in the fifties. Blake fitted out the dilapidated farmhouse with a stove and basic plumbing five years back. Nothing out here for one hundred miles but the desert and some big old turkey-vultures. To me, it’s a paradise on earth. The weather was still warm for fall, so all the doors were wide open. I could already feel the beginning of change in the air. That sudden slip in heat that brings the storms and sends fat white clouds scudding into the deep desert sky. I’d closed my eyes, letting the sun beat down on my face through the little kitchen window. When I opened them again, a pack of police was standing at the farmhouse door. ‘Mrs Nelson?’ I looked up, knife in hand. I must have looked quite the picture to those city officers, in a shapeless prairie dress with long wing-shouldered sleeves, buttoned neck to ankle, my blond hair plaited down my back. I wiped the white potato starch from the blade. Set it down. ‘Which Mrs Nelson do you want, sir?’ I looked at them each in turn. A few of them were openly taking in the ranch. Outside is a little shambolic, with our decrepit outbuildings, dry-goods storehouse, and half-finished vegetable beds. Inside it’s neat and cozy, with a good deal of home-crocheted items. There’s a little couch, with two cushions I made myself, with ‘Home is Where the Heart is,’ and ‘God is Love,’ in big bright colors. Our kitchen is a basic worktop and sink. There’s a shelf with a little gas stove for when we heat our food and some food-preserving
equipment that Blake bought me for our second wedding anniversary. To the back is the old hayloft, where we’ve put our beds. Two singles for two wives. A master, for Blake and whomever is favoured that night. One of the officers picked up a family portrait. A photograph taken shortly after Blake married Tina. Th e three of us stand behind our husband. Me, the oldest, my blond hair blow-dried for the occasion, pink lipstick, a flowery blouse that skims my broad hips. Emily, slender, looking even younger than her nineteen years, green eyes wide like a rabbit in the headlights, wispy pale hair curled for the photo. Then Tina, cat-that-got-the-cream smile. Straight black hair, tight dress showing cleavage, heavy makeup. A police officer at the back pushed through at that point. A lady officer in tight pants. She had that kind of wholesome outdoorsy look some Salt Lake City gals get, if they’re not the religious type and spend their weekends doing sports and whatnot. Shiny brunette ponytail. Very striking light-brown eyes.
Right away, I knew she wasn’t in the Church. ‘I’m Officer Brewer,’ said the lady officer. She extended a tanned hand. I shook it. She had a warm, firm grip. ‘Are you telling us that there’s more than one Mrs Nelson here?’ she asked. ‘Um. No, Ma’am.’ For some reason, I glanced at the knife. Brewer narrowed her eyes slightly, as if she’d caught me out in a lie. ‘I mean,’ I continued, ‘the others aren’t here right now.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Are you Mrs Rachel Nelson, married to Blake Nelson?’ ‘Yes, Ma’am, six years Tuesday.’ I smiled. ‘It was our wedding anniversary yesterday, as a matter of fact.’
This seemed to wrong-foot her. She glanced at the wedding picture. ‘You folk are Mormons?’ she asked. ‘We prefer the term Latter-day Saints,’ I agreed tightly. ‘May
I ask what your business is here?’ ‘Mrs Nelson,’ she said, taking a breath, ‘I’m afraid we have some bad news, regarding your husband.’ It isn’t the words but her tone that rushes up to meet me like a slap ‘Is he under arrest?’ I feel my face grow hot. She shakes her head. ‘No.’ ‘Am I under arrest?’ ‘It’s better if you sit down.’
In some ways I wish I had signed up to review now as that has got me hooked! Going to have to read it now!
