Greasy Plank, Memphis is a small town similar to others. Its inhabitants have families that have been there for generations. The town does have its inconveniences, though. Many little girls wind up dead. This dark tale begins with Richard Tilson, a promising African-American boy on trial for the crimes. For three generations little girls have been victims, but young Richard is the closest element to the real poison. So, the book flashes back to the 1940s to tell the genuine story which happens during an era when racism is norm.
Richard's father David is a young man from the respectable Tilson family who owns the town's only all-purpose store. His mother does not trust his girlfriend Margaret's father as far as she can throw him. Still, David marries Margaret and when he does, marries into trouble. This is when Denise Turney's readers must knit their brows and focus their being on events at hand - things are getting complicated. As it turns out, Margaret and her family moved from Louisville, Kentucky to Greasy Plank around the time the little-girl crimes commenced. Ramsey Armstrong, Margaret's father, had a reason for the move. He knew one too many nasties about his wife's boss Mr. Robinson. Mr. Robinson, fully aware Ramsey knows of his misdeeds, followed Ramsey and family to Greasy Plank, painting a favorable reputation for himself as the town's kind businessman. In actuality, he is blackmailing Ramsey into helping him christen Greasy Plank with his left-for-dead girls.
Because police in the 40s are more interested in keeping African-Americans at the bottom of the people chain, they interrogate Ramsey tooth and nail, showing up at his home each time a new girl is missing. Ironically, Ramsey will do anything Robinson tells him so he can avoid the criminal allegations he's being threatened with (by the police AND Robinson). Hence, a powerless Ramsey dumps little girls into a river by local train tracks and into the walls of abandoned buildings.
The book's underlying theme of the crime conspiracy is made murky by Turney's dilution of plot - occurring because she introduces what seems to be the entire population of Greasy Plank. She does succeed in giving readers a strong concept: being truthful to self and those we are close to is far easier to wake up to than being a crony for a town murderer. Indeed, Turney's character of Ramsey fails to grasp truth's promise. As contrast, the author brings in Ramsey's son Alex rather late. Alex serves as a welcomed counter-hero of sorts in spite of awful circumstance. The frontlines of WWII have left him wheelchair bound. Through the role-adjusting he and wife Sharietta share, Turney demonstrates love and truth can conquer the worst. How ironic is it Ramsey's body is mobile yet trapped by vice while Alex is a "free" man in an immobile body?
This theme of living freely within is culminated at book's end when the innocent grandson winds up doing seven years in prison for his grandfather's involvement (the boy being an artist, created descriptive pictures of gagged girls in an effort to deal with the "family secret" - the pictures were used as evidence). Darker still is the lack of honor that results within Margaret Armstrong who, along the course of the novel learns the details of her father's involvement through the police interrogations inside her home. She becomes so accustomed to denying her father's morbid other life, she lets her own son go to prison without saying squat.
Turney's book has promise. A few of its characters, particularly Ramsey, are multifaceted. His quiet kindness seems like it might be construe d at face value if guilty thoughts weren't constantly working his head into a sweat. There is almost uncanny realism in him. The author's downfall is her tendency to introduce extraneous characters. The tactic might be effective if the aim was to draw reader attention toward a variety of suspects. However, Turney's readers already know who is probably not guilty - as a result of her omniscient viewpoint - and the many character descriptions make for serious plot lag. Add the author's complex use of flashback within flashback, and lag prevails. The real story - which questions the extent of Ramsey's criminal involvement - doesn't begin till about halfway through the book. If readers hold out this long through the many character profiles, they'll come to the excitement.
