Everyone in My Family Has Killed Someone by Benjamin Stevenson

 

Synopsis From The Dust Jacket:

Ernie Cunningham, crime fiction aficionado, is a reluctant guest at his family reunion. Family reunions aren't for everyone, of course. But Ern's part of a notorious crime family—and three years ago, he witnessed his brother kill a man and immediately turned him in to the police. Now Ern's brother is being released from prison and the family is gathering to welcome him home.

As if that weren't bad enough, the reunion is taking place at a remote mountain resort. The day before Ern's brother is set to arrive, a man's body is found frozen on the slopes. While most Cunninghams assume the man simply collapsed and died of hypothermia during the night, Ern's stepsister spots a strange detail—the man's airways are clogged with ash. He appears to have died by fire... in a pristine snowfield... without a single burn mark on him. 

The longer the body goes unidentified, the more overwhelmed the local policeman becomes, and the more Ern realizes it's up to him to find the murderer. Holmes, Christie, Chesterton: he's read then all. He knows what patterns to look for, what rules killers follow. And of course, he knows his own family. Every member of which, as he's told us from the start, has killed someone. 

I’ve sat here staring at my screen, willing the words for a perfect review of Everyone in My Family Has Killed Someone to appear—flowing effortlessly from my fingers. But the truth is, that perfect review isn’t in the cards for me. Instead, I’m left to write an imperfect one, feeling as though I’ll always owe both Ern and the author a heartfelt apology.

I don’t know why I can’t string together the just-right words to capture how much fun this book was. What I can say is that I adored spending time with Ern—getting to know his family, watching the way his mind works, and laughing at his sharp, dry humor. The entire story unfolds through his eyes, and as the bodies begin to pile up—six in total—his voice remains steady, witty, and endlessly engaging.

One thought has stuck with me as I’ve wrestled with what to say: Jessica Fletcher would have felt right at home in this story. It’s exactly the kind of mystery she could have sunk her teeth into—whether as the sleuth or as J.B. Fletcher, the author of such a twisted tale. And if you know me at all, you’ll know that’s the highest compliment I can give.