Mystery
![Richard Osman - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B074KL81KM.jpg)
The Thursday Murder Club: A Novel (A Thursday Murder Club Mystery)
A New York Times bestseller | Soon to be a major motion picture from Steven Spielberg at Amblin Entertainment
"Witty, endearing and greatly entertaining." -Wall Street Journal
"Don't trust anyone, including the four septuagenarian sleuths in Osman's own laugh-out-loud whodunit." -Parade
Four septuagenarians with a few tricks up their sleeves
A female cop with her first big case
A brutal murder
Welcome to...
THE THURSDAY MURDER CLUB
In a peaceful retirement village, four unlikely friends meet weekly in the Jigsaw Room to discuss unsolved crimes; together they call themselves the Thursday Murder Club.
When a local developer is found dead with a mysterious photograph left next to the body, the Thursday Murder Club suddenly find themselves in the middle of their first live case.
As the bodies begin to pile up, can our unorthodox but brilliant gang catch the killer, before it's too late?
"Witty, endearing and greatly entertaining." -Wall Street Journal
"Don't trust anyone, including the four septuagenarian sleuths in Osman's own laugh-out-loud whodunit." -Parade
Four septuagenarians with a few tricks up their sleeves
A female cop with her first big case
A brutal murder
Welcome to...
THE THURSDAY MURDER CLUB
In a peaceful retirement village, four unlikely friends meet weekly in the Jigsaw Room to discuss unsolved crimes; together they call themselves the Thursday Murder Club.
When a local developer is found dead with a mysterious photograph left next to the body, the Thursday Murder Club suddenly find themselves in the middle of their first live case.
As the bodies begin to pile up, can our unorthodox but brilliant gang catch the killer, before it's too late?
Editorial Reviews
Praise for The Thursday Murder Club:
"Witty, endearing and greatly entertaining."
-Wall Street Journal
"An amusing debut that finds gold in getting older."
-People
"Don't trust anyone, including the four septuagenarian sleuths in Osman's own laugh-out-loud whodunit."
-Parade
"Funny, clever, and compelling. Mystery fans are going to be enthralled."
-Harlan Coben, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Boy from the Woods
"A little beacon of pleasure in the midst of the gloom. . . SUCH FUN!"
-Kate Atkinson, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Big Sky
"Charming, funny, and ultimately, surprisingly, very moving."
-Linwood Barclay, New York Times bestselling author of Find You First
"I don't know how to do this brilliant book justice. Diabolically clever, very funny, highly entertaining-utterly delightful. I completely fell in love with it. I need more of The Thursday Murder Club!"
-Shari Lapena, New York Times bestselling author of The Couple Next Door
"Loved every word. Loved the fleet, nimble plotting, as ingenious as top-shelf Agatha Christie; loved the boisterous cast of characters-think Fredrik Backman; loved the crisp, witty, Carl Hiaasen-caliber dialogue... yet above all, I love The Thursday Murder Club for its psychological texture, emotional depth, and luminous, fireside warmth. What a generous novel. Readers of Louise Penny and Kate Atkinson, rejoice."
-A. J. Finn, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Woman in the Window
"Suspenseful, funny, and poignant. The delightful, spirited characters from this witty, sometimes bittersweet story deserve a return engagement."
-Booklist (starred review)
"An imaginative and witty whodunit… Osman's careful attention to the realities of life in a retirement village ensures that The Thursday Murder Club is a compassionate, thoughtful tribute to a segment of the population that's often dismissed and ignored… Great fun."
-BookPage (starred review)
"The character-driven mystery, featuring a group of sleuths all too aware of their own mortality, and a likable pair of cops, is suspenseful, funny, and poignant… The delightful, spirited characters from this witty, sometimes bittersweet story deserve a return engagement."
-Library Journal (starred review)
"Osman mixes mirth and murder in his exceptional debut. . . witty."
...
"Witty, endearing and greatly entertaining."
-Wall Street Journal
"An amusing debut that finds gold in getting older."
-People
"Don't trust anyone, including the four septuagenarian sleuths in Osman's own laugh-out-loud whodunit."
-Parade
"Funny, clever, and compelling. Mystery fans are going to be enthralled."
-Harlan Coben, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Boy from the Woods
"A little beacon of pleasure in the midst of the gloom. . . SUCH FUN!"
-Kate Atkinson, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Big Sky
"Charming, funny, and ultimately, surprisingly, very moving."
-Linwood Barclay, New York Times bestselling author of Find You First
"I don't know how to do this brilliant book justice. Diabolically clever, very funny, highly entertaining-utterly delightful. I completely fell in love with it. I need more of The Thursday Murder Club!"
-Shari Lapena, New York Times bestselling author of The Couple Next Door
"Loved every word. Loved the fleet, nimble plotting, as ingenious as top-shelf Agatha Christie; loved the boisterous cast of characters-think Fredrik Backman; loved the crisp, witty, Carl Hiaasen-caliber dialogue... yet above all, I love The Thursday Murder Club for its psychological texture, emotional depth, and luminous, fireside warmth. What a generous novel. Readers of Louise Penny and Kate Atkinson, rejoice."
-A. J. Finn, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Woman in the Window
"Suspenseful, funny, and poignant. The delightful, spirited characters from this witty, sometimes bittersweet story deserve a return engagement."
-Booklist (starred review)
"An imaginative and witty whodunit… Osman's careful attention to the realities of life in a retirement village ensures that The Thursday Murder Club is a compassionate, thoughtful tribute to a segment of the population that's often dismissed and ignored… Great fun."
-BookPage (starred review)
"The character-driven mystery, featuring a group of sleuths all too aware of their own mortality, and a likable pair of cops, is suspenseful, funny, and poignant… The delightful, spirited characters from this witty, sometimes bittersweet story deserve a return engagement."
-Library Journal (starred review)
"Osman mixes mirth and murder in his exceptional debut. . . witty."
...
Readers Top Reviews
Memphis girlCSMSilto
I love a mystery that keeps you guessing, with intriguing and likable characters, and a wonderful setting - i almost wish i hadn’t read this book so that i could read it for the first time again
HarleyTuppence
If I had reviewed this after the first 100 pages I might well have rated it higher. Loved the setting, the characters and the whole dealing with age and it's inevitable progression. However, after a while the plot meandered through too many twists, the clever Elizabeth started to annoy and the police were unrealistic and shallow. The gentle witicisms charm, the setting is some sort of old people utopian village. This is well written and a welcome break from the blood, gore and angst of mainstream crime fiction. Where it fell down for me was it's failure to keep me inside the world and the fantasy for the whole book. If you are debating reading it, go for it. I enjoyed it and finished it - but am debating whether to bother with part 2. Certainly not now.
Golf Widow
I love this book. The mystery is deep, the writing excellent, and the characters delightful. I was worried about figuring out the murderer too soon, but it was fine; Richard Osman is clearly far smarter than I am.
Lee Killough
What fun Murder Club was to to read. A cast of wonderful characters and plenty of twists in the story. I read it on my Kindle and hated to see the reading time winding down toward zero. The Thursday Murder Club, consists of four members of a retirement community who have been working out solutions for cold cases (the founding member of the group was a retired police officer) though it can be only an academic exercise. Now, however, with the death of construction contractor, they find themselves with a current murder they can investigate. Roping in two officers officially involved in the case...who are both good at their job and not hostile to the Club as is often the case of police in books with amateurs investigating murder. I hope this is the start of a series.
Dollyreads
No smarmy sympathy, no faked respect. This story is about people living their best lives-- no matter what. Honest about aging, about loss, about unlikely but sustaining friendship. Well worth reading for the characters more than the mystery.
Short Excerpt Teaser
1.
Joyce
Well, let's start with Elizabeth, shall we? And see where that gets us?
I knew who she was, of course; everybody here knows Elizabeth. She has one of the three-bedroom flats in Larkin Court. It's the one on the corner, with the decking? Also, I was once on a quiz team with Stephen, who, for a number of reasons, is Elizabeth's third husband.
I was at lunch, this is two or three months ago, and it must have been a Monday, because we were having shepherd's pie. Elizabeth said she could see that I was eating, but she wanted to ask me a question about knife wounds, if it wasn't inconvenient?
I said, "Not at all, of course, please," or words to that effect. I won't always remember everything exactly, I might as well tell you that now. So she opened a manila folder, and I saw some typed sheets and the edges of what looked like old photographs. Then she was straight into it.
Elizabeth asked me to imagine that a girl had been stabbed with a knife. I asked what sort of knife she had been stabbed with, and Elizabeth said probably just a normal kitchen knife. John Lewis or somesuch. She didn't say that, but that was what I pictured. Then she asked me to imagine this girl had been stabbed three or four times, just under the breastbone. In and out, in and out, very nasty, but without severing an artery. She was fairly quiet about the whole thing, because people were eating, and she does have some boundaries.
So there I was, imagining stab wounds, and Elizabeth asked me how long it would take the girl to bleed to death.
By the way, I realize I should have mentioned that I was a nurse for many years; otherwise none of this will make sense to you. Elizabeth would have known that from somewhere, because Elizabeth knows everything. Anyway, that's why she was asking me. You must have wondered what I was on about. I will get the hang of writing this, I promise.
I remember dabbing at my mouth before I answered, like you see on television sometimes. It makes you look clever, try it. I asked what the girl had weighed.
Elizabeth found the information in her folder, followed her finger, and read out that the girl had been forty-six kilos. Which threw us both, because neither of us was sure what forty-six kilos was in real money. In my head I was thinking it must be about twenty-three stone? Two to one was my thinking. Even as I thought that, though, I suspected I was getting mixed up with inches and centimeters.
Elizabeth let me know the girl definitely wasn't twenty-three stone, as she had a picture of her corpse in the folder. She tapped the folder at me, then turned her attention back to the room and said, "Will somebody ask Bernard what forty-six kilos is?"
Bernard always sits by himself, at one of the smaller tables nearest the patio. Table 8. You don't need to know that, but I will tell you a bit about Bernard.
Bernard Cottle was very kind to me when I first arrived at Coopers Chase. He bought me a clematis cutting and explained the recycling timetable. They have four different colored bins here. Four! Thanks to Bernard, I know that green is for glass and blue is cardboard and paper. As for red and black, though, your guess is still as good as mine. I've seen all sorts as I've wandered about. Someone once put a fax machine in one.
Bernard had been a professor, something in science, and had worked all around the world, including going to Dubai before anyone had heard of it. True to form, he was wearing a suit and tie to lunch, but was nevertheless reading the Daily Express. Mary from Ruskin Court was at the next table; she got his attention and asked how much forty-six kilos was when it was at home.
Bernard nodded and called over to Elizabeth, "seven stone three and a bit."
And that's Bernard for you.
Elizabeth thanked him and said that sounded about right, and Bernard returned to his crossword. I looked up centimeters and inches afterward, and at least I was right about that.
Elizabeth went back to her question. How long would the girl stabbed with the kitchen knife have to live? I guessed that unattended she would probably die in about forty-five minutes.
"Well, quite, Joyce," she said, and then had another question. What if the girl had had medical assistance? Not a doctor, but someone who could patch up a wound. Someone who'd been in the army, perhaps. Someone like that.
I have seen a lot of stab wounds in my time. My job wasn't all sprained ankles. So I said then, well, she wouldn't die at all. Which she wouldn't. It wouldn't have been fun for her, but it would have been easy to patch up.
Elizabeth was nodding away, and said that was precisely what she had told Ibrahim, although I didn't know Ibrahim at that time. As I say, this...
Joyce
Well, let's start with Elizabeth, shall we? And see where that gets us?
I knew who she was, of course; everybody here knows Elizabeth. She has one of the three-bedroom flats in Larkin Court. It's the one on the corner, with the decking? Also, I was once on a quiz team with Stephen, who, for a number of reasons, is Elizabeth's third husband.
I was at lunch, this is two or three months ago, and it must have been a Monday, because we were having shepherd's pie. Elizabeth said she could see that I was eating, but she wanted to ask me a question about knife wounds, if it wasn't inconvenient?
I said, "Not at all, of course, please," or words to that effect. I won't always remember everything exactly, I might as well tell you that now. So she opened a manila folder, and I saw some typed sheets and the edges of what looked like old photographs. Then she was straight into it.
Elizabeth asked me to imagine that a girl had been stabbed with a knife. I asked what sort of knife she had been stabbed with, and Elizabeth said probably just a normal kitchen knife. John Lewis or somesuch. She didn't say that, but that was what I pictured. Then she asked me to imagine this girl had been stabbed three or four times, just under the breastbone. In and out, in and out, very nasty, but without severing an artery. She was fairly quiet about the whole thing, because people were eating, and she does have some boundaries.
So there I was, imagining stab wounds, and Elizabeth asked me how long it would take the girl to bleed to death.
By the way, I realize I should have mentioned that I was a nurse for many years; otherwise none of this will make sense to you. Elizabeth would have known that from somewhere, because Elizabeth knows everything. Anyway, that's why she was asking me. You must have wondered what I was on about. I will get the hang of writing this, I promise.
I remember dabbing at my mouth before I answered, like you see on television sometimes. It makes you look clever, try it. I asked what the girl had weighed.
Elizabeth found the information in her folder, followed her finger, and read out that the girl had been forty-six kilos. Which threw us both, because neither of us was sure what forty-six kilos was in real money. In my head I was thinking it must be about twenty-three stone? Two to one was my thinking. Even as I thought that, though, I suspected I was getting mixed up with inches and centimeters.
Elizabeth let me know the girl definitely wasn't twenty-three stone, as she had a picture of her corpse in the folder. She tapped the folder at me, then turned her attention back to the room and said, "Will somebody ask Bernard what forty-six kilos is?"
Bernard always sits by himself, at one of the smaller tables nearest the patio. Table 8. You don't need to know that, but I will tell you a bit about Bernard.
Bernard Cottle was very kind to me when I first arrived at Coopers Chase. He bought me a clematis cutting and explained the recycling timetable. They have four different colored bins here. Four! Thanks to Bernard, I know that green is for glass and blue is cardboard and paper. As for red and black, though, your guess is still as good as mine. I've seen all sorts as I've wandered about. Someone once put a fax machine in one.
Bernard had been a professor, something in science, and had worked all around the world, including going to Dubai before anyone had heard of it. True to form, he was wearing a suit and tie to lunch, but was nevertheless reading the Daily Express. Mary from Ruskin Court was at the next table; she got his attention and asked how much forty-six kilos was when it was at home.
Bernard nodded and called over to Elizabeth, "seven stone three and a bit."
And that's Bernard for you.
Elizabeth thanked him and said that sounded about right, and Bernard returned to his crossword. I looked up centimeters and inches afterward, and at least I was right about that.
Elizabeth went back to her question. How long would the girl stabbed with the kitchen knife have to live? I guessed that unattended she would probably die in about forty-five minutes.
"Well, quite, Joyce," she said, and then had another question. What if the girl had had medical assistance? Not a doctor, but someone who could patch up a wound. Someone who'd been in the army, perhaps. Someone like that.
I have seen a lot of stab wounds in my time. My job wasn't all sprained ankles. So I said then, well, she wouldn't die at all. Which she wouldn't. It wouldn't have been fun for her, but it would have been easy to patch up.
Elizabeth was nodding away, and said that was precisely what she had told Ibrahim, although I didn't know Ibrahim at that time. As I say, this...
