Monsieur le Commissaire André Schweigen is in awe of his colleague Dominique Carpentier, Madame le Juge, known within the French legal system as la chasseuse de sects--the sect hunter. They worked together on a case of what appeared to be a mass suicide of members of a religious cult, the Faith, a few years before this novel opens. Now there has been another apparent mass suicide, on New Year's Day 2000, similar to the earlier one, involving additional members of the Faith.
"That smile, full of humor and affection, doomed to be Schweigen's undoing, ensured that from then onwards his every third thought was dedicated to the black-haired, dark-eyed Judge, whose ruthless efficiency, terrifying discipline and legendary self-control drove her colleagues to drink," writes Duncker as Schweigen abandons himself to the Judge's considerable allure while they investigate forensic evidence of the deaths and interview friends and relatives of the departed. The Judge is incredibly smart, accomplished and self-confident; Schweigen, a loose cannon with good intentions, is her polar opposite, in addition to being a married man who should know better.
Rushing from crime scene to funerals, they develop a work dynamic on the case that is curious, refreshing and effective; they also bond in surprising ways. In an unexpected scene (though we should have seen it coming), the Judge makes her move, lunging at Schweigen across the gear shift of her car and then says, "There, wasn't that what you wanted?" He recovers from his shock--and pleasure--to mumble, "Yes," before she puts the car in gear and they get back to business. She is entrancing, and people regularly fall at her feet. One of those is Friedrich Grosz, a German composer and conductor and a surviving member of the Faith who knew all the deceased in the two mass deaths. And although the Judge is investigating Grosz with unrelenting ferocity, he trains his cool eye and hypnotic desire on her. Their dance is almost as astonishing the one with poor, doofus Detective Schweigen.
As the labyrinth of the unfolding mystery begins to entangle and overwhelm the Judge, who is reflexively accustomed to winning, she tries to reassure herself: "I can deal with crooks, but not genuine fanatics. And I have no patience with romantic obsessions, the products of willful wish-fulfilment." Ah, yes, and then uncontrolled passion takes its place alongside blinding intellect to make this novel a literary pleasure of the highest order, plus que fabuleux. --John McFarland
Shelf Talker: A legal mystery of uncommon style and intelligence, in which everyone, including the reader, ends up loving the person in the judge's seat.