Who’s In Charge Here? ;-)

If you’re a part of the work world, you probably have a boss. So, before we reach the week-end, it’s a good time to think about our bosses and the people we supervise. It’s also a good time for…

…a quiz! OK, don’t blame me if you don’t heed my warnings to be careful around my blog!

Just about everyone has a boss. And a dedicated crime fiction fan like you knows who your favourite crime fictional characters’ bosses are, don’t you? Or do you? Take this handy quiz and find out. Read each description and then match it with the correct character. At the end of the quiz, check your score to see how well you’ve done. Don’t forget to go all the way to the end of the quiz to find out which answers you got correct.

 

Ready? Turn on the PDA to begin…. if you dare

 

Come On and Rescue Me*

As I’ve mentioned before here on Confessions of a Mystery Novelist…, sleuthing can be very dangerous work. Sleuths go after sometimes very nasty people who don’t want to be caught. And when people are desperate – as a killer who doesn’t want to be caught can be – they can become very dangerous indeed. So it’s not surprising that sometimes, sleuths need to be rescued. Of course, like most characters and plot points in crime fiction, this particular one can be overdone and become cliché; the “damsel in distress” stereotype is annoying and certainly doesn’t add to a story, and a sleuth of either sex who comes off as incompetent or bumbling (i.e. always needing to be rescued) is just as annoying. So it’s got to be handled with care, as the saying goes. But when it is, a character who comes to the rescue can add a solid layer to a story and keep the action and suspense going.

For instance, in Agatha Christie’s The Murder on the Links, Poirot and Captain Hastings are investigating the stabbing murder of Paul Renauld, a Canadian émigré to France. Renauld wrote to Poirot asking his help; in the letter, Renauld claimed his life was threatened. By the time Poirot and Hastings get to the Renauld home, though, it’s too late. But Poirot feels an obligation to investigate so he and Hastings work with the police to find out who killed Paul Renauld and why. In the meantime, Hastings has made a friend – an acrobat who calls herself Cinderella. Poirot deduces who committed the crime and he and Hastings set a trap, if you will, for the killer. Cinderella insists on going along and proves herself invaluable. At one point Hastings and Poirot are trapped in one part of the house while the killer is in another room, preparing to murder again. It’s Cinderella who comes to the rescue and manages to stop the killer.

In Tony Hillerman’s The Ghostway, Navajo Tribal Police Officer Jim Chee is looking into the murder of Albert Gorman, a Los Angeles Navajo who’s recently moved to the Big Reservation. Then, word comes that sixteen-year-old Margaret Billy Sosi has left the boarding school she attends and apparently disappeared. Chee’s assigned to find her. It’s not long before Chee suspects that her disappearance is related to the case he’s working on, and so it proves to be. He traces Sosi to the outskirts of Los Angeles just in time to see her nearly get abducted by the killer. Desperate to think of a way to keep her safe, Chee pretends to be “just another drunken Indian” and distracts the killer long enough for Sosi to escape. But in a neat twist, it’s she who rescues Chee when the killer wounds him badly. Sosi gets Chee to a hospital and safety before disappearing again. She rescues Chee again later in the story, too, when he has a showdown with the killer who’s behind everything.

James Lee Burke’s Dave Robicheaux is a tough and strong character whom you might not necessarily think of as needing to be rescued. But he sometimes gets into very dangerous situations. For example, in A Morning For Flamingos, he and his police partner Lester Benoit are assigned to transport two prisoners to Louisiana’s State Penitentiary at Angola. One is Jimmie Lee Boggs. The other is Tee Beau Latiolais. The four are en route to Angola when Boggs uses a ruse to free himself and Latiolais. Boggs murders Benoit and shoots Robicheaux, leaving him for dead. In fact, Robicheaux thinks he is going to die, but he’s rescued by Latiolais, who gets help for him. Robicheaux later gets the chance to go after Boggs when he finds that Boggs may be working for New Orleans crime boss Tony Cardo. Robicheaux is persuaded to take part in an undercover operation to bring down Cardo in part because it will give him the chance to “get” Boggs, too. In an interesting parallel plot, it turns out that Latiolais wasn’t guilty of the crime for which he was convicted, and Robicheaux is able to find out the truth about that crime, too when he tracks Latiolais down.

In P.D. Martin’s Body Count, we first meet FBI profiler Sophie Anderson. Her specialty is “getting into the heads” of serial killers, and she meets her match in the D.C. Slasher, a killer who’s already claimed more than one victim. Anderson and her team use all of the evidence and information they can get to try to track down the killer before another victim is killed. The case strikes very “close to home” when Anderson’s friend and colleague Samantha “Sam” Wright is abducted. Now the team tries frantically to find Wright before she’s murdered. As the novel evolves, Anderson discovers that the killer knows who she is and has begun to track her and at one point, she herself is abducted. To Martin’s credit, Anderson is far from a stereotypical “persecuted heroine;” still, she’s in a dire situation until one of her team-mates tracks her down and gives her the time and distracter she desperately needs.

And then there’s the cobra incident in Alexander McCall Smith’s Blue Shoes and Happiness. One morning Mma. Grace Makutski, Associate Detective and second-in-command at the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, notices a cobra under her desk. She alerts her boss and McCall Smith’s main sleuth Mma. Precious Ramotswe. The two detectives know how dangerous cobras are and they’re not sure what to do, but they manage to get out of the office and alert the two apprentice mechanics who work at Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors, which shares a building with the detective agency. The two young men try to kill the cobra but succeed only in making matters worse. Then, Neil Whitson of the Mokolodi Game Preserve happens to come by, as he’s a friend of Mr. J. L.B. Matkeoni, who owns Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors. Soon enough he’s able to catch the snake and put it in a sack in preparation for returning it to the wild. The two sleuths are extremely grateful to have the snake gone although it is interesting to read the difference between the story of Whitson’s arrival that they tell and the snake story that the apprentice mechanics tell .

In Riley Adams’ (AKA Elizabeth Spann Craig’s) Hickory Smoked Homicide, the third of her Memphis Barbecue series, we meet Tristan Pembroke, a very successful but snobbish and malicious beauty pageant coach. Her daughter Steffi is a waitress at one of Memphis’ most popular eateries, Aunt Pat’s Barbecue, which is owned by Lulu Taylor. When Tristan and Steffi Pembroke have a serious argument, Tristan ends up throwing her daughter out of the house and Lulu takes the girl in. All seems to return more or less to normal until the night that Lulu and her daughter-in-law Sara attend an auction at Tristan Pembroke’s home. At the auction, Sara Taylor and Tristan Pembroke get into a violent argument. Later, Lulu finds Tristan’s body stuffed into a closet. Now the police suspect that Sara took things too far and murdered the victim. Lulu knows this isn’t true and begins to ask questions. It turns out that there’s quite a list of people who wanted Tristan Pembroke dead for several reasons. Lulu gets to the truth of the matter but not before she ends up in very real danger. Coming to the rescue in this case is Lulu’s friend Cherry Hayes, a docent at Graceland, the home of Elvis Presley. Cherry’s a little eccentric (which, in my opinion, adds to her appeal), but she’s far from stupid and she can act quickly when she has to do so. Oh, and in a related note, I’ve recently learned that there will be a new Memphis Barbecue Restaurant novel. Great news, Elizabeth, and I look forward to reading it!

In Paddy Richardson’s Hunting Blind, Stephanie Anderson is about to complete her psychiatry program in Dunedin. One day, she learns something disturbing from one of her patients Elizabeth Clark. Years ago, Clark’s younger sister Gracie disappeared one night and hasn’t been seen since. This trauma has devastated Clark and is part of the reason for her suffering. Clark’s story strikes close to home for Anderson, whose own little sister Gemma was abducted seventeen years earlier. When Anderson hears Clark’s story, she decides to find out who is responsible for all of this horror. So she takes time off from work and goes in search of the perpetrator. She finds out who’s committed the crimes and lays her plans. Anderson is refreshingly far from a “persecuted heroine,” and she’s by no means stupid. But she falls into very serious danger at one point. She gets herself out of that situation, but then she faces a whole new set of problems. The person who rescues her is her mother Minna. It’s ironic, too because Anderson and her mother have had a very difficult relationship for a long time, despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that they’re very much alike.

Crime fiction shows us that anyone can rescue someone else. And when it’s done well, that plot point can add some real interest to the story.

 

 

 

On Another Note…

 

A year ago, Christchurch was devastated by a terrible earthquake. Hundreds of lives were lost and many beautiful buildings were destroyed. Parts of the city will never be able to be re-built, and it’ll take years to repair what can be repaired. This post is dedicated to the memories of those who lost their lives that terrible day and in the following days.

It is also dedicated to the hundreds of rescuers who gave up food, sleep, washing, families and anything like a normal life to try to save others. They won’t tell you what they did – they’re real heroes who don’t boast. But I will. They dug through rubble, they stayed up for days on end, they kept vigil, they moved in blankets, tents, water, vital medical supplies and lots more. They are responsible for saving many, many lives and we owe them a debt of gratitude. I wasn’t there that day, but there many people who are alive because those rescuers were. Thanks to all of you.

Oh, and one more thing. See the New Zealand flag on my sidebar? Yes, that one. Click it. Go on, I’ll wait. It gives you the opportunity to help re-build Christchurch. When you click, you’ll be taken to the New Zealand government’s donation website for re-building the Canterbury area. It doesn’t take much to help. Even if you would prefer not to donate, please pass the word. Let’s not forget…

 

 

 

 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Fontella Bass’ Rescue Me.

It’s Been So Long Since I’ve Been Gone*

Sometimes, people leave home for what they think are very good reasons and when they leave, they think they’re leaving their problems behind them. But going away doesn’t always solve problems; in fact sometimes, it can make them worse. When that happens, there’s sometimes an instinct to go home. Sometimes, too, “prodigals” are drawn home by other circumstances. Of course, going home is often easier said than done as the saying goes. And that tension can add a lot of suspense to a crime fiction story, even if the “prodigal’s return” isn’t the main part of the plot.

For example, in Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot’s Christmas (AKA Murder for Christmas and A Holiday for Murder), Simeon Lee invites his grown children and their spouses to join him at Gorston Hall, the family home, for Christmas. For various reasons, everyone accepts, but no-one really wants to go. Simeon Lee is an unpleasant tyrant who’s found ways to alienate everyone. One of his sons is Harry, who’s the family “black sheep.” Harry left the family home twenty years earlier and has done a lot of travelling all over the world since then. He’s gotten in all sorts of trouble, too. When he gets the invitation, he accepts it in part because he hasn’t been able to make a really successful life for himself although we can tell he’s enjoyed trying. On Christmas Eve, Harry Lee becomes a suspect when his father is murdered. He was in the house, he desperately needed his share of his father’s large fortune, and nobody knows much about what he’s been doing in the years he’s been away. Hercule Poirot is staying in the area with a friend, and he is persuaded to look into the case. He finds that Harry Lee’s return has engendered quite a lot of resentment, and that makes for an interesting layer of tension in the novel.

In Caroline Graham’s A Ghost in the Machine, we meet the Lawson family. Mallory Lawson and his wife Kate have just inherited a considerable amount of money from Mallory’s very wealthy Aunt Carey. The money will mean that Mallory can leave the teaching position that has burned him out, and he and Kate can pursue their dream of starting a small independent publishing company. The Lawsons inherit Carey Lawson’s home in the village of Forbes Abbot on condition that her companion and friend Benny Frayle have a permanent home there. The Lawsons are only too happy to agree to this since they like Benny and she’s got some publishing skills and good ideas. The Lawson’s twenty-year-old daughter Polly is set to inherit a large sum of money, too, although she has to wait until she turns twenty-one to get access to the funds. Unbeknownst to her parents, Polly has gotten herself into a great deal of financial trouble, so she desperately needs the money she’s set to inherit as soon as possible. Using a trumped-up story, she persuades Mallory to authorise some of the money he and Kate have inherited to pay her debts. And that’s when Polly’s trouble really begins. She thinks she discovers a way to speculate with her parents’ inheritance and ends up in real trouble when everything falls apart. Then she disappears just before becoming a suspect in the murder of Dennis Brinkley, the Lawson family’s financial consultant. Inspector Chief Inspector Tom Barnaby and Sergeant Gavin Troy investigate Brinkley’s murder and another murder and as they’re doing so, Mallory Lawson becomes more and more worried about his daughter. He finds her and brings her back to the Mallory home, and it’s interesting to see how everyone adjusts to her return. On one hand, she’s safe and the family is able to start repairing their relationships. On the other, there is a lot of strain and resentment on all sides. It’s a realistic reminder that coming home, so to speak, isn’t always easy.

It’s not easy for Sebastian “Seb” Taylor in Riley Adams’ (AKA Elizabeth Spann Craig’s) Delicious and Suspicious, either. Seb is the son of Lulu Taylor, who owns Aunt Pat’s Barbecue, one of Memphis’ popular restaurants. Seb left Memphis a few years earlier to “make it” in New York, but he’s not had much success. In fact, he’s now got a drug habit and has made some unsavoury associates. So Seb decides to do the difficult thing and go home. He wants to be “just Seb Taylor” again. He goes back to Memphis and begins to work with his mother and his brother Ben at the restaurant. There’s naturally some resentment in the family; Ben sees his brother as irresponsible and selfish, while Seb sees Ben as sanctimonious and domineering. Meanwhile Lulu is doing her best to keep her family united and keep the restaurant as successful as it is. Then word comes that Rebecca Adrian, food critic for The Cooking Channel, will be visiting Memphis to choose the restaurant that will win The Cooking Channel’s best barbecue in Memphis award. Aunt Pat’s will be one of her stops. Everyone gets busy preparing for this visit, and when Adrian arrives, she’s treated to a special meal. But then, only hours after her visit to Aunt Pat’s, Adrian dies of what turns out to be poison. Soon, word begins to spread that the food at Aunt Pat’s is dangerous and that’s why Adrian died. To clear her restaurant and her family from suspicion, Lulu Taylor begins to ask questions about the murder. She soon finds that Rebecca Adrian alienated nearly everyone, so there are several people who are only too happy that she’s dead. Throughout the novel, Seb Taylor’s struggles to “come home” form a solid sub-plot and add a level of interest and realism to the story.

And then there’s Rebecca Martinsson, an attorney whom we first meet in Åsa Larsson’s Sun Storm (AKA The Savage Altar). Martinsson is originally from the Noorland town of Kiruna. She left home for very good reasons and after studying law, took a job in Stockholm where she’s working when this series begins. Martinsson had a less-than-pleasant departure from Kiruna so she’s in no hurry to return. She works too many hours, but her job pays her bills and she’s not what you’d call unhappy in Stockholm. Then one day, she gets a call from a former friend Sanna Strångard. Sanna’s brother Viktor has been found murdered in a local church and it was Sanna herself who found the body. So she’s understandably both devastated and emotionally shaken. She begs Martinsson to return to Kiruna to be with her. At first, Martinsson demurs, but in the end, she’s persuaded to go. When she gets to Kiruna, she feels a sense of belonging, especially once she settles into her grandparents’ house, where she’s decided to stay. But she also feels a sense of alienation, especially considering what her reasons were for leaving. Then, Sanna Strångard is charged with her brother’s murder. She asks Martinsson to defend her and for several reasons Martinsson finds that difficult. But she takes up the task and in the end, she finds out who killed Viktor Strångard and why. Martinsson’s sense of both homecoming and alienation add a layer of character depth and tautness to this story.

We see a similar sort of conflict in Linda Castillo’s series featuring Kate Burkholder, Chief of Police of the Amish community of Painter’s Mill, Ohio. Burkholder was raised in that community, and she is Amish. In Sworn to Silence, we learn that sixteen years earlier, Burkholder left the community for a very good reason. Years passed and Burkholder became a police officer. When Painter’s Mill finds itself in need of a new police chief, Burkholder is tapped for the job, as it’s felt that her Amish background and police skills will be a good fit for that community. She herself feels that she’s gotten past the reason that she left in the first place. Then, the body of a murdered young girl is found in a snowy field. Burkholder is determined that the murderer won’t strike again, so she goes after the killer. But stopping the killer is going to mean that Burkholder will have to confront her past. Throughout the novel, Burkholder feels the conflict between belonging in this place and what she has to do to catch the killer.

There are plenty of other novels, too, where a character makes the difficult choice to come home, only to find that her or his troubles are just beginning…

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Comin’ Home.

In The Spotlight: William Ryan’s The Darkening Field

Hello, All,

Welcome to another edition of In The Spotlight. Historical mysteries have become a very popular sub-genre of crime fiction, and when they’re done well, there’s good reason for that. They give the reader a fascinating perspective on a particular place and time while also telling a solid mystery story. So this week and next week, we’ll be spotlighting two historical mysteries that take place at more or less the same time (just before World War II), but in different places. I hope it’ll be an interesting way to look at that era from different perspectives. Today, let’s take a close look at William Ryan’s The Darkening Field, the second of Ryan’s Alexei Korolev novels.

Moscow CID Captain Alexei Dmitriyevich Korolev is trying to do his job – catch criminals – in the treacherous political landscape that is the pre-World War II Stalinist Soviet Union. Late one night, he is summoned by Colonel Rodinov of the NKVD. Fearing the worst, Korolev is surprised when Rodinov assigns him to a very delicate task. Maria Alexandrovna Lenskaya is an up-and-coming actress and dedicated Party worker who has apparently committed suicide while filming on location. Rodinov wants Korolev to travel to Odessa, where the death took place, and investigate quietly. If the death turns out to be a suicide, it will be a straightforward case. But if Lenskaya was murdered, this could be a major political mess that could get a lot of people in trouble. So Korolev will have to tread very carefully. Korolev really doesn’t have a choice but to agree to the investigation, and he travels to Odessa to begin the task.

When Korolev gets to Odessa, he learns to his dismay that Lenskaya was murdered. Now he’ll have to undertake an official police investigation that could get very dangerous. He’s assigned Odessa CID Sergeant Nadezhda Andreyevna Slivka as his assistant and the two get to work on the case. They soon discover that this case could become extremely risky for both of them. For one thing, as they look into Lenskaya’s background, they find that she had several “friends” among highly placed Party members, including People’s Commissar for State Security (and NKVD head) Nikolai Ezhov. So if her death had something to do with her personal relationships, Korolev and Slivka risk quite a lot by finding the real killer. Another possibility is that Lenskaya was a secret counter-revolutionary who was killed “in the line of duty.” If that’s the case, then Korolev and Slivka risk making another set of enemies. And then Korolev discovers another, equally dangerous angle to the case. He learns from Count Kolya, Chief Authority of the Moscow Thieves, that the Thieves have their own interest in the Odessa area. They use that area for the “importation” of things that people want to buy that can’t easily be found legally. Lately, a group that’s possibly connected with the Nazis has been involved in an “arrangement” with a group of Ukrainian terrorists to import guns in exchange for intelligence about Soviet military strength and other useful information. Kolya and the Thieves don’t want that “arrangement” to go on because it might call too much attention to their own operations. He tells Korolev that Lenskaya might have known about this “arrangement” and been killed because of it. Now it’s clear that no matter who actually killed Lenskaya, there’s going to be a lot of danger for Korolev and Slivka. But if they refuse to follow the case through, that has its own dangers and besides, Korolev does his job well and he knows his duty. So he and Slivka slowly and carefully continue their investigation. In the end, they get to the truth about what really happened to Maria Lenskaya, and when they do, we find that the murder has been committed for a believable motive.

One of the most important elements in this novel is the sense of mistrust – even paranoia – that permeates the story. No-one can really trust anyone, because at any moment, one’s friend or neighbour could denounce one as an Enemy of the People. Allegiances are shaky at best, and self-preservation is of paramount importance. We see this even between Korolev and Slivka, who are supposed to be working together on this case. In one sense, they trust each other because they have to. But we still see this fear. For instance, in one scene, Slivka is giving Korolev a tour of the Odessa area. She finds out that Korolev didn’t get a chance to see the town very well as he was flying in and says:

 

“‘From the air you can see what a well-planned city Odessa is.’
‘Our Soviet planners are the envy of the world,’ Korolev said automatically.
‘They are, although in this case the planning was done long before the Revolution.’
‘Tsarist planners?’
‘A Frenchman,’ she shrugged. ‘Wait till you see it – it looks like Paris, they say. Maybe the Frenchman was homesick.’
Slivka’s smile faded.
‘Of course,’ she added, her words coming out faster than previously, ‘Soviet Power has transformed the city for the better. In every way.’
‘I knew what you meant, Slivka,’ Korolev said, ‘There’s no need to concern yourself.’
It was the first time he’d seen her confidence slip and it saddened him that she should be concerned about such an innocuous comment. Even if, of course, she was right to be.”

 

We get the strong feeling that everyone’s looking over a shoulder and with good reason.

Another element woven through this novel is the setting. Ryan places the reader unmistakeably in 1937 Odessa:

 

“Maybe Odessa did look like Paris – Korolev had never been there. He’d seen pictures of the place in newspapers of course and it seemed to him that, despite the peeling paint, Odessa had a certain fin de siècle elegance…The cold sun twinkled on tram tracks and polished the cobblestones golden as the car roared happily along wide boulevards, scattering the odd pigeon and drawing the occasional glance from pedestrians huddled against the frosty morning chill. Maybe it was also a bit like Petersburg, it occurred to him, before he reminded himself that it had been Leningrad since Lenin’s death in 1924 and it was about time he remembered.” 

 

There’s a strong feeling not just from the sense of location but also from the kind of murder that it is that this story couldn’t have taken place anywhere else.

There are also some interesting characters in the novel. Korolev, for instance, is a “regular guy” simply trying to do his best in this new world. He’s in his 40’s, so he remembers the time before the Revolution. On the one hand, he’s proud to be a Russian and he feels a sense of pride in Soviet might and in the goals of the Revolution. And he wants to stay alive. On the other, he’s also seen the down side of the Revolution. He’s seen people – friends and neighbours – taken away in the middle of the night. He knows that with one thoughtless comment the same fate would await him. He sees that things haven’t really gotten better since the Revolution, too, although a part of him keeps hoping. He’s not overly religiously observant – in fact, he can’t be in the world of Stalin’s Soviet Union. But he still feels a connection to the Church he’s always known; more than once, he makes the sign of the cross in his pocket, so as to balance his own instincts with his pragmatism. And “pragmatic” is a good word to describe him. Korolev knows that ideals and ethics are one thing, but sometimes people have to do what they have to do.

Sergeant Slivka is also an interesting character. She’s an up-and-coming hard-working police officer with good instincts. It would stray too close to spoilers to tell too much of her background, but as we learn about it, we learn that Slivka is a multi-dimensional and strong character. She’s a good fit for Korolev as well; they have complementary skills and it’s realistic to believe they would be a good team. And it’s refreshing that they work well together and do their jobs without the clichéd “tortured attraction” that too often gets in the way of a good police partnership. There are other interesting characters, too, and Ryan provides a very helpful guide to them at the beginning of the novel.

A believable mystery in a suspenseful and well-drawn atmosphere of paranoia and suspicion, The Darkening Field is clearly placed in the Stalinist Soviet Union and features well-drawn and believable characters. But what’s your view? Have you read The Darkening Field? If you have, what elements do you see in it?

 

 
 

Coming Up On In The Spotlight
 

Monday 27 February/Tuesday 28 February – A Trace of Smoke – Rebecca Cantrell

Monday 5 March/Tuesday 6 March – Miss Smilla’s Feeling for Snow – Peter Høeg

Monday 19 March/Tuesday 20 March – Deadly Appearance – Gail Bowen

Though I Campaigned All My Life Towards That Goal*

Today (or tomorrow, depending on when you read this) it’s Presidents’ Day in the U.S. Whether it’s the office of the president of the United States or that of another head of state, there’s a lot of power and privilege associated with high political office. So it’s not surprising that there is also a great deal of power-brokering, “wheeling and dealing” and more at the top of the political tree. All of that intrigue makes for juicy headlines; it’s also a very effective context for crime fiction. We can believe that people will do a lot to get and keep that kind of power.

For example, in Margaret Truman’s Murder at the White House, Ron Fairbanks is offered the job of Special Counsel to the President for President-elect Robert Webster. He’s reluctant at first, being somewhat of a free thinker. Besides, he doesn’t agree politically with the president. But he accepts the position. He’s just settling into his job when Secretary of State Lansford Blaine is shot one night at the White House. The security procedures alone make it very unlikely that anyone outside the White House could have committed the crime, and there’s a call for an investigation. President Webster knows that if he doesn’t authorise a complete investigation into Blaine’s activities, he’ll be accused of cronyism and cover-ups. So he taps Fairbanks to head an independent investigation team. Fairbanks is reluctant; he’s savvy enough to know he’ll be treading on a lot of highly placed toes, so to speak. But he has his marching orders. So he and his team start asking questions. The more they learn about Lansford Blaine, the more they see that more than one person had a very good reason to want to kill the victim. Blaine made political enemies including the president’s own Chief of Staff. Even President Webster himself is not above suspicion.

Margaret Truman was, of course the daughter of U.S. President Harry S. Truman, and so had an “inside look” at White House politics.  So did Elliott Roosevelt, the son of U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt and Eleanor Roosevelt. Roosevelt wrote a mystery series that reflected his knowledge of the world of Washington politics. What’s interesting is that although many people claim that Roosevelt was the author of this series, there’s also evidence that it might have been ghost-written. Whoever actually wrote the series, it’s interesting in that Eleanor Roosevelt is the sleuth.

For instance, in Murder and the First Lady, White House staffer Philip Garber is found dead in the apartment of Eleanor Roosevelt’s secretary Pamela Rush-Hodgebone. She’s the most likely suspect, as she and Garber were lovers, and Garber’s body was found in her apartment. What’s more, there is evidence that she and Garber might have worked together to pull off a jewel heist in England. But Mrs. Roosevelt doesn’t believe that Rush-Hodgebone is guilty. So she sets out to clear her secretary’s name and find the real killer. That’s not going to be easy, either, since Garber’s father is a powerful Congressman who doesn’t want Mrs. Roosevelt’s “help.”  And in Murder in the Lincoln Bedroom, Mrs. Roosevelt investigates the murder of Special Counsel to the President Paul Weyrich, whose body is found in the famous Lincoln Bedroom. The murder occurs during a top-secret conference between Franklin Roosevelt, Prime Minister Winston Churchill and General Dwight Eisenhower. If the press is going to be kept from knowing about this top-level meeting, they also can’t find out about the murder, so Mrs. Roosevelt starts to look into the matter. It turns out that Weyrich was part of a plot to assassinate Roosevelt. Now Mrs. Roosevelt has to find out who’s behind the plot if she’s to keep the conspirators from making new plans.

Of course, intrigue in high political places isn’t just confined to the U.S. For instance, in Agatha Christie’s short story The Kidnapped Prime Minister, Hercule Poirot and Captain Hastings get an unexpected late-night visit from the leader of the House of Commons and a member of the War Cabinet. It seems that Prime Minister David MacAdam has been kidnapped on his way to deliver a very important speech in Paris. World War II is on the horizon and MacAdam’s speech was intended to “rally the troops.” MacAdam’s political enemies don’t want him to make that speech; instead, they want to move England along an appeasement path. The speech is absolutely critical to the MacAdam government and to the nation, so Poirot and Hastings are given a day in which to find the Prime Minister, as his speech is scheduled for the following day. They look into the matter and in the end, they find out who is behind the kidnapping and where the Prime Minister is.

And then there’s Margery Allingham’s Traitor’s Purse. In that novel, Albert Campion wakes up in hospital, suffering from amnesia. He knows that he has an urgent task to accomplish, but he can’t remember what that task is. Bit by bit, he begins to recover his memory and with help from various people that he encounters, he starts to put the pieces together. He slowly becomes aware that there is a conspiracy to use counterfeit currency to bring down the British government and instal a new government in its place. Now Campion has to find out who’s behind the conspiracy and stop it before those involved are able to finish what they have started.

In Frederick Forsyth’s The Day of the Jackal, a far-right French terrorist group called Organisation de l’Armée Secrète (OAS) wants to assassinate French President Charles de Gaulle. There’s already been one failed attempt on de Gaulle’s life, and OAS knows that if they send one of their own on another mission, that person may be recognised and the plot foiled again. So they hire an outside assassin, a British assassin known only as The Jackal. The Jackal agrees to make the hit and begins to prepare. The French government finds out that a plot exists, but no-one knows who The Jackal is, nor does anyone know the details of the planned assassination. So French detective Claude Lebel is assigned to track down The Jackal and stop him before he carries out the assassination.

Sometimes, political intrigue can last even after a government is no longer in office. That’s what happens in Kel Robertson’s Smoke and Mirrors. In that novel, Australian Federal police officer Bradman “Brad” Chen is persuaded to come back to work after taking some time off to recuperate from the last case he investigated. The case that lures him back is the double murder of Alec Dennet, late of Australia’s 1972-75 Gough Whitlam government, and Dennet’s editor Lorraine Starke. Dennet was working on his memoirs at a noted writers’ retreat when he and Starke were murdered. When Chen and his team find that the manuscript Dennet was working on has disappeared, it seems clear that there’s a lot to these murders. Some very powerful people have a lot to lose if Dennet publishes everything he knows about the Whitlam government. So Chen and his team have to look for some well-kept secrets to find out who killed Dennet and Starke and why.

There’s just something about life at the top of the political tree that can be intriguing. Little wonder there’s so much crime fiction that deals with the political crème de la crème.

 

ps. As you know if you’re kind enough to read this blog, I almost always use my own ‘photos for this blog and I do it with pride. This one, though, was too good for me to pass up. Thanks, Acclaim Images .
 

 

 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Neil Young’s The Campaigner.

Or Maybe She’s the Quiet Type*

Some characters in crime fiction are interesting because they’re somewhat enigmatic. They don’t say very much, but what they do say is usually important. They rarely talk about themselves or their backgrounds, but their presence is an important part of a novel. Sometimes, too, they have very strong personalities that we sense right away. Even though they may not talk very much, they matter and the very fact that they’re somewhat (or sometimes very) enigmatic makes them all the more interesting.

For example, in Agatha Christie’s Murder in Mesopotamia, noted archaeologist Eric Leidner hires Amy Leatheran to look after his wife Louise. The Leidners are at a dig site not far from Hassanieh, in Iraq, and lately, Louise Leidner has been having fears and telling people that she sees and hears odd and frightening things. Leatheran, who’s a nurse, is hired to do what she can to allay Louise Leidner’s fears and help her feel safer. When Leatheran gets to the house where the dig party is living, she meets the rest of the members of the expedition team. Among them is David Emmott, a young archaeologist who has been attached to the team for two years. He doesn’t have very much to say, but even from the beginning of the novel, he has a certain strength of character. At first, everyone suspects that Louise Leidner may be imagining the voices she hears and the things she sees. But one afternoon, her fears are all too well-founded when she iis bludgeoned in her room. Emmott is one of the first on the scene and Leatheran, from whose point of view the story is told, is impressed with his ability to cope in an emergency. Hercule Poirot is traveling in the area and he helps the police find out who murdered Louise Leidner and why. Throughout the novel, we never learn a lot about Emmott, but we feel his personality all through the story.

That’s also true of Hannu Rauhala, a Finnish police detective who works with Helene Tursten’s Irene Huss and her team. Rauhala says very little about himself, and none of the team knows him very well. He’s not rude or abrasive, but he does keep people at a distance. He doesn’t talk very much, but he gets things done. In Night Rounds, for instance, Huss and the team, under the supervision of Sven Andersson, are investigating the murders of two nurses at Löwander Hospital, a private facility with some secrets in its past. The more the team looks into this case, the clearer it is that the hospital itself is the key to the mystery. Throughout the novel, Rauhala manages to find out all sorts of information about the case from well-placed sources:

 

“Hannu was able to flush out things no one else could find. Whether all his methods were legal, she [Huss] couldn’t say. At times she wished she knew, but at other times she suspected that it was better not to know.”

 

Rauhala adds a great deal of insight to the case without saying very much. He’s enigmatic and we don’t learn a lot about him but he is a force to be reckoned with in this series.

So is Joe Pike, Robert Crais’ gun shop-owning former soldier who partners with private investigator Elvis Cole. Pike is not much of a one for words, as Karen Nelson finds out in Lullaby Town. In that novel, famous director Peter Alan Nelson hires Cole to find his missing wife Karen and their son. Cole isn’t eager for the case at first, since many times, when people disappear it’s because they do not want to be found. But he’s finally persuaded and begins the search. He finds Karen Nelson living in a quiet Connecticut town and keeping a secret. She seems to have gotten mixed up with some very nasty Mob people and Cole’s finding her could get them both in very big trouble. Cole calls Pike to tell him what’s going on and Pike makes the trip to Connecticut and Karen Nelson’s home:

 

“Pike nodded once, then stood and walked into the kitchen. Karen said ‘Excuse me, the bathroom isn’t that way.’
Pike went through the door without looking back.
I said, ‘He isn’t looking for the bath. He’s looking for how someone might get into your home, or get out, and for where they might hide while they are within it.’
She blinked at me.
‘It’s one of his more colorful habits.’” 

 

Pike may not have a lot to say, but he is without a doubt a powerful force. In more recent Crais novels we’ve learned more about him, and that’s part of what makes those novels interesting.

Another character who’s not voluble but is nonetheless strong is Donna Leon’s Contessa Donatella Falier. She is the mother-in-law of Commissario Guido Brunetti, and a genuine “blueblood.” We learn bits and pieces about Contessa Falier, but she certainly doesn’t hold forth about herself. And yet, we can feel that she is a strong force. Certainly she knows everyone who “matters” in Venice, and that in itself makes her interesting. For instance, in About Face, it’s she who orchestrates a dinner party during which Brunetti meets Maurizio Cataldo and Franca Marinello. Contessa Falier has planned this meeting because she wants Brunetti to get to know Marinello, whose history she happens to know. And it turns out that that history is key to the solution of a mystery that involves shady business deals, illegal toxic waste transportation and outlaw trucking. Although she doesn’t do it obviously, Donatella Falier has a way of making her presence felt and her wishes known. She’s a fascinating character who plays a role in more than one of Leon’s novels.

And then there’s Diane Jacobsen, an investigator for the Tennessee Bureau of Investigations whom we meet in Simon Beckett’s Whispers of the Dead. She and her partner Dan Gardner get involved in set of bizarre murders beginning with a decomposing corpse found near a cabin not far from Tennessee’s Anthropological Research Laboratory. When there’s another murder, and then another, it’s clear that this is the work of an unusual killer. Jacobsen and Gardner get help from forensic anthropologist David Hunter, who’s taking some time to do some research at the lab. The novel is told from Hunter’s point of view and because of that, we never get to learn much about Jacobsen. She is extremely skilled and it’s obvious throughout the novel that she has a past she doesn’t want to discuss. But she is a strong character who is vital in solving the crimes. In one almost-amusing moment, we do find out one thing about her that adds an interesting twist to the story. But overall, she’s one of those enigmatic characters who lend a lot to a story without saying a lot, really.

The same is true of Dan, a hunting guide whom we meet in Paddy Richardson’s Hunting Blind.  He makes his living by taking people out into the bush and guiding hunting trips, and he’s very good at what he does. He’s a widower with a young daughter who one frightening night comes very close to being abducted. He’s an extremely strong character without being overly chatty, and when Stephanie Anderson meets him, she feels that strength. Anderson is a fledgling psychiatrist who has a terrible wound in her own past; her four-year-old sister Gemma was abducted years earlier and never found. Now Anderson wants some resolution to the case. A story that she heard from a patient suggests that Gemma’s abductor may still be alive and has abducted other girls. So Anderson has decided to follow the leads she can find. In the course of her journey she meets Dan, who persuades her to go on a hunting trip although she’s never fired a gun in her life. It’s on that hunting trip that Stephanie Anderson feels the kind of strength of personality that Dan has, although he’s not overly talkative. And it’s that strength in part that gives her the courage she needs to finish the task of finding the person who ruined her family’s life.

There are lots of other quiet and enigmatic but nonetheless strong characters in crime fiction, and they can really add leaven to a story. Which ones do you especially like?

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Billy Joel’s Modern Woman.

We Don’t Sneak Around or Step on Toes*

Detectives learn very quickly that it’s almost as important to avoid “stepping on people’s toes” – breaking the unwritten rules about working with others – as it is to do the other work involved in solving a case. That’s especially true for detectives who work in a bureaucracy such as a police department or the FBI, and even more so when departments have to co-operate during investigations. But even amateur sleuths know that if they antagonise too many people, they won’t get the answers that they want. And even though we may secretly enjoy it when a sleuth “steps on people’s toes” to get to the answers, we also know that in reality, that doesn’t get the detective very far. So authors have to strike a balance with their characters. On one hand, characters who are too willing to “step on people’s toes” aren’t believable, especially if there are no consequences. Characters who aren’t willing to take that risk aren’t as interesting and are probably less likely to solve cases.

Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot achieves that balance fairly well most of the time. In more than one of his cases, he starts by suggesting his client go to the police first. For instance, in The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, he is approached by Flora Ackroyd, whose uncle Roger has been stabbed. She is very much concerned because her fiancé Captain Ralph Paton is the prime suspect in this murder and is very likely to be arrested. When she asks Poirot to find the murderer, he says,

 

“‘But the police will do that, will they not?’
‘They might make a mistake. They are on their way to make a mistake now, I think. Please, M. Poirot, won’t you help us?’”

 

Poirot agrees to help and finds that there was more than one person with a motive to kill Ackroyd. Along the way, he works with Insepctor Raglan and his boss Chief Constable Colonel Melrose, who’s in charge of the case. At first, Melrose is loathe to involve Poirot, but then, Poirot says,

 

“‘I must beg, that in the case of my being able to contribute something to the solution of the mystery, my name may not be mentioned.’ Inspector Raglan’s face lightened a little.” 

 

Poirot has hit on Melrose’s concern, and once he makes it clear he won’t “step on anyone’s toes,” Melrose is willing to involve Poirot.

In several of Tony Hillerman’s novels, the Navajo Tribal Police have to work with the FBI. For instance, in The Dark Wind, the FBI is investigating drugs trafficking on the Big Reservation. So they send an agent out to look into the matter. At the same time, Jim Chee is investigating vandalism to a local water tower. One night, he’s witness to a plane crash that is connected to the drugs case and this puts Chee’s boss Captain Largo into a delicate position. He has no particular love for the FBI. At the same time, he knows that the cases in his territory won’t be solved if he loses a good man like Chee. Matters get even more delicate when FBI Agent Johnson all but accuses Chee of being involved in the drugs ring. So Largo works to avoid “stepping on toes” as much as possible. He reassures Chee that he’s under no suspicion. Then he manages to get Chee and Johnson to look into the case co-operatively – not an easy task. In the end, Chee figures out how the vandalism, the plane crash, the drugs ring and a murdered man all fit together.

Sometimes, the toes one has to avoid are in one’s own department or agency. That’s what happens in Margaret Truman’s Murder at the FBI. In that novel, FBI agent Chris Saksis and her partner and lover Ross Lizenby are faced with a very difficult case. Fellow agent George Pritchard is found murdered at the rifle range at the FBI building. One possibility is that Pritchard was murdered by a terrorist group whose membership he was about to make public. That’s the “official” FBI theory and it’s credible, too. So there is a lot of pressure on Saksis to pursue it. But soon, other kinds of evidence suggest that Pritchard’s death had to do with some ugly secrets at the agency itself. Saksis doesn’t want to believe that the agency she loves – and she does – could harbour the kind of secrets she unearths, and she’s not happy about “stepping on toes” to get to the truth (although she’s certainly no weakling about it). This conflict actually adds an interesting layer of tension to this novel as Saksis finds out what really happened to Pritchard and why.

In Deborah Crombie’s In a Dark House, firefighter Rose Kearny has to face the challenge of “stepping on toes” when she discovers the body of an unknown woman in a warehouse that’s gone up in flames. Superintendent Duncan Kincaid and his team begin the process of trying to find out who the woman was and what she was doing in the warehouse. Then, there’s another fire. And another. In the meantime, it becomes clear that the woman could be one of four area women who seem to have disappeared. With help from his partner Gemma James, Kincaid discovers what has happened to the women and who the dead woman in the warehouse is. Meanwhile, Rose Kearny discovers a pattern to the fires that could be the key to finding out who is setting them and why. The problem is that she has to deal with fitting in with the other firefighters, who have only just begun to accept that a woman can fight fires as well as a man. She has no desire to lose their respect or for the matter of that, “step on the toes” of her supervisor. So she finds another way to get the pattern she has found to Kincaid. That information provides him with crucial information he needs to catch the arsonist.

And then there’s Copenhagen detective Carl Mørck, whom we meet in Jussi Adler-Olsen’s Mercy (AKA The Keeper of Lost Causes). Mørck is recovering from an on-duty shooting incident in which one of his fellow officers was murdered and another left with paralysis. He’s slowly returning to duty, but he is still dealing with what happened. In fact, he becomes so difficult to work with that he “steps on toes” throughout the department. The other members of the team simply don’t want to work with him any more. But Mørck is a good cop, and the department doesn’t want to risk the media fallout if a cop who was wounded in the line of duty is shuttled out of a job. So he is “promoted” to the head of a newly-created department, “Department Q.” Its purpose is to pursue cases of “special interest.” Mørck is given an assistant Hafez al-Assad and settles in to what he thinks will be a do-nothing job, which suits him just fine. Then Assad calls his attention to the case of Merete Lynggaard, a political “rising star” who disappeared five years ago and is believed drowned in a ferry accident. Bit by bit, little pieces of evidence suggest that she’s not dead. So Mørck and Assad begin to re-investigate. That in itself is enough to “step on toes,” and Mørck’s manner doesn’t help matters much. But together, the two find out what really happened to Merete Lynggaard.

There’s an especially strong depiction of the issue of “stepping on people’s toes” in William Ryan’s series featuring Moscow CID captain Alexei Korolev. Korolev is a member of the police force in 1930’s Stalinist Moscow – a time when it’s very dangerous to make any kind of enemies, even of one’s neighbours. Everyone is warned about “counterrevolutionaries,” and the feared NKVD is only too happy to believe allegations against a citizen. In The Holy Thief, Korolev investigates the murder of a woman whose body is found in a former church. He’s begun the process of asking questions when another body is found. And then another. Korolev is just trying to do his job, but this case has ties to the NKVD and to the equally-notorious Moscow Thieves. It’s not trivial, either, that if Korolev doesn’t find the killer, that will be considered a “black mark” against him and could lead to disastrous consequences. So he has to try to find out who the killer is and what the motive is without “stepping on toes.” In The Darkening Field, the second Korolev novel, he is sent to Odessa to investigate the supposed suicide of an actress who was filming on location there. It’s soon clear that she was murdered, and Korolev is assigned to find out who the murderer is as quietly as possible. The victim, though, had ties to high-level Party members. As if that weren’t enough, her death might also be related to suspected terrorist activity. So Korolev has to tread very, very lightly if he expects to find out what’s behind her murder without paying a serious price himself.

“Stepping on toes” is a very real part of investigations, so it can add a note of realism as well as tension to a novel. But it is such an integral part of crime fiction stories that if it’s not done well, it can also become clichéd. When done well, though, it’s a solid part of a plot.

 

 

 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Dave Mason’s What Do We Got Here?

The Impossible Turns Out to Be…Possibly*

One of the best things about really well-drawn crime-fictional sleuths is that they seem real. We can imagine what it would be like if they really existed, especially if they are developed over time. Now of course, fictional sleuths aren’t real, but if they were, I wonder what it would be like to interact with them. Here are just a few of my ideas:

 

Sleuth I Would Probably Find it Hardest to Supervise

Colin Dexter’s Inspector Morse

Ian Rankin’s John Rebus

Adrian Hyland’s Emily Tempest

Elizabeth George’s Barbara Havers

 

Now, please don’t misunderstand me. I have a lot of respect for these sleuths’ ability to solve crimes and their real passion for justice. I do. They’re great characters, too, and I cheer them on. But they are all – er – determined people who don’t always seem to – um – appreciate the importance of doing things in a certain way. They have a habit of getting themselves into trouble, too. As a reader, I like their way of thinking. As a supervisor, I’d probably find it really difficult. The edge in this case goes to Ian Rankin’s Inspector Rebus. He can’t seem to manage his anger, he doesn’t care much about the departmental fallout, so to speak, from what he does, and he doesn’t work well on a team. He throws things, too. Just ask his former supervisor Gill Templar; he throws a mug of tea in her direction in Resurrection Men and that’s enough to get him (yet again) in real trouble. I’d let him listen to his music in the office, though.

 

Sleuth I Would Least Want Supervising Me

Reginald Hill’s Andy Dalziel

Colin Dexter’s Inspector Morse

Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe

Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot

 

One of the things I really like about these sleuths is that they get cases solved. They are brilliant sleuths and I have nothing but respect and admiration for them on that score. I’d trust any of them to solve even the toughest case. But they are all exacting, demanding and sometimes inconsiderate. They do have a respect for the people they supervise, but sometimes you wouldn’t know it.  Although Poirot can be compassionate, the rest can be caustic and disrespectful, too. In a way, that adds to their characters. But I wouldn’t want to be supervised that way. I think I would least like to be supervised by Andy Dalziel. He’s rude, sarcastic, boorish and not at all considerate of his partner Peter Pascoe. Of course, Dalziel is also brilliant and a very quick thinker. He gets the job done and as a reader, I admire the way he does so. But at the same time I’m right with Pascoe when he occasionally shows his resentment at the way he sometimes gets treated.

 

Sleuth I Would Most Want on My Side in a Pub Fight

Stieg Larsson’s Lisbeth Salander

John D. MacDonald’s Travis McGee

Lindy Cameron’s Bryn Gideon

Robert Crais’ Joe Pike

 

This is a difficult one because for one thing, I don’t get in many of these kinds of fights; well, not that I’m willing to admit publicly. For another, all these sleuths (and a few others I haven’t room for) are tough, no-nonsense fierce fighters who will have your back. I could trust any of them to make sure that the other guy looked worse, so to speak, and they wouldn’t switch sides in the middle. In fact ideally, I’d want all of them. But if I had to choose, it would be Bryn Gideon. She’s the leader of Redback, an elite team of rescue-and-retrieval experts who aren’t afraid to go into any – and I mean any – situation. When we meet that team in Redback, they go up against international terrorists, rebel groups and other nasty types and even when they’re outmanned, as the saying goes, they get the job done. I have the feeling that Bryn Gideon would have me safely out of that pub before I had any idea what was happening. And to Lindy Cameron: if you’re reading this, I’m hoping for another outing with Team Redback (Hint, Hint).

 

Sleuth I Would Most Want Solving the Mystery of My Demise

Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch

Maj Sjøwall and Per Wahløø’s Martin Beck

Helene Tursten’s Irene Huss

Sue Grafton’s Kinsey Millhone

 

This is perhaps even more difficult than the last category because there are so many sleuths out there who solve cases brilliantly. It was extremely difficult to narrow down this topic. But this is a group of sleuths who are determined, dogged and willing to undertake the sometimes-slow, painstaking work of detection. If someone did me in, I could trust any of these folks to get on the proverbial scent and not get off it again until it led to the right place. They wouldn’t get sidetracked by politics, either. And I know there are a lot of other sleuths like that, too. The most dogged of them all, and my choice by a narrow margin in this category? Harry Bosch. He’s gone up against all sorts of odds in solving cases. He is no respecter of privilege, wealth or rank, and he simply does not give up. He doesn’t have superpowers and that makes him that much more appealing. But he perseveres whatever the cost until a case is solved. That’s the kind of sleuth I’d want hunting down whoever was behind my sudden end. I’d rest easy knowing somebody was going to pay the price, so to speak.

 

Sleuth I’d Want Defending Me If I Was Wrongly Accused of Murder

Yrsa Sigurðardóttir’s Thóra Gudmundsdóttir

Michael Connelly’s Mickey Haller

Åsa Larsson’s Rebecka Martinsson

Erle Stanley Gardner’s Perry Mason

 

I have all respect for the police. Most of them are hard-working, careful detectives who want to “get the bad guy” and they do their jobs well. But the police are human and sometimes arrest the wrong person. And people do get framed. If either of those things happened to me, one thing I’d need would be a good lawyer. All of these lawyers (and others I haven’t had room for here) would be excellent choices to defend me, really. They’re bright, they fight for their clients in and out of the courtroom, and they have a strong sense of doing the right thing. I could do lots worse than these folks. If I could really make only one call, though, it would be to Perry Mason. Thoroughly versed in the law, a fierce fighter and legend in the courtroom and absolutely determined to get an acquittal, Mason would handle my case brilliantly. I hope he’d be willing to make payment arrangements…. 

What do you think? Wouldn’t it be great if some of these sleuths were real? How do you think you’d interact with them? This isn’t a meme, so there’s no need to be formal about it, but I’d love to hear your ideas.

 

 

 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from They Might Be Giants’ Impossible.

Better Talk to the Lawyer*

An interesting comment exchange with Bill Selnes at Mysteries and More From Saskatchewan has got me thinking about the complex relationships that can develop between attorneys and their clients and other people in a case, whether or not they’ve known each other before that case. If attorneys are to do a good job representing their clients, they have to know private – sometimes intimate – details of their clients’ lives. That intimate knowledge, coupled with the professional roles attorneys play and the power that gives them, only adds complexity. So does the fact that attorneys are human. That means they form personal opinions about the people involved in a case and that can complicate matters in a lot of ways.

For example, in Agatha Christie’s Five Little Pigs (AKA Murder in Retrospect), Hercule Poirot gets a visit from Carla Lemarchant, who wants him to re-investigate the sixteen-year-old poisoning murder of her father, famous painter Amyas Crale. At the time of the murder, Crale’s wife Carolyn was arrested, tried and convicted of the crime, and with good reason. She had a strong motive, as Crale had said he was about to leave her for another woman. She had the poison used in the murder in her possession, too, and the opportunity to use it. But Carla Lemarchant is convinced her mother was innocent. Poirot is intrigued by this “cold case,” so he agrees to take it and interviews the people involved in the case. One of them is the attorney who defended Caroline Crale at her trial. Sir Montague Depleach claims that Caroline Crale was guilty, based on the evidence, but that she wouldn’t “play up” to his strategy to try to get her acquitted. But we get quite a different picture from Quentin Fogg, who assisted at the prosecution. Here is how he describes Caroline Crale:

 

“She had the quality of it [romance]. I don’t know if she was really beautiful…She wasn’t very young – tired looking-circles under her eyes. But it all centered round her. The interest – the drama. And yet, half the time, she wasn’t there. She’d gone away somewhere, quite far away-just left her body there, quiescent, attentive, with the little polite smile on her lips. She was all half tones, you know, lights and shades. And yet, with it all, she was more alive than the other – that girl with the perfect body, and the beautiful face, and the crude young strength.”

 

Fogg is almost sorry that Caroline Crale was convicted. Certainly she made a strong, strong impression on him. What’s especially interesting about this story is that we never get to meet Caroline Crale ourselves. She died a year after her conviction, so Poirot draws his conclusions from what he learns from those who were there at the time.

In Ellery Queen’s Calamity Town, we meet County Prosecutor Carter Bradford.  He’s doing well professionally and has recently become engaged to Patricia Wright, daughter of the “first family” of Wrightsville. All’s well for Bradford until the case of Jim Haight. Haight is married to Patricia Wright’s younger sister Nora, but their marriage hasn’t been an overly happy one. In fact, three years before the events in the novel, they’d been about to marry when Haight disappeared. He returned and he and Nora resumed their relationship, but no-one wanted them to marry after he’d left her before. Patricia and Ellery Queen, who’s in town on a writing retreat, discover evidence that Haight may intend to kill his wife for her considerable fortune. So when Haight’s sister Rosemary is killed by a poisoned cocktail intended for Nora, everyone, including Carter Bradford, thinks he’s guilty. Bradford finds this case especially difficult because of his personal connection with it. In the end, the only one who becomes convinced that Haight may be innocent is Queen, and he sets out to prove he’s right.

Margaret Truman’s Murder at the Kennedy Center focuses on the prominent Ewald family. U.S. Senator Ken Ewald is a presidential hopeful with a very good chance of success in the upcoming election. Then one night, one of his staffers Andrea Feldman is shot at a glittering fundraiser. Georgetown Law School professor and attorney Mackensie “Mac” Smith happens to be walking his dog late that night when they come upon Feldman’s body. Smith reports the death and soon gets a call from Ken Ewald, whose friend and legal representative he’s been for some time. Ewald asks him to the family house and when Smith gets there, he finds that this case is already complicated. It turns out that Ken Ewald’s married son Paul was having an affair with Feldman. It also turns out that she was shot with Ken Ewald’s gun. Now, people Smith considers good friends are snarled in a terrible case of murder and when Paul Ewald is arrested for the crime, his father asks Smith to act for the defense. Smith now has the terrible job of investigating his own friends and their relationships to see who might have killed the victim.

In John Grisham’s The Chamber, we are introduced to the Cayhall family. Sam Cayhall is awaiting execution for the bombing of radical lawyer Marvin Kramer’s office and the murder of Kramer’s two young sons. Twice his trial ended in a hung jury but at the third trial, he was found guilty and is about to be executed. Chicago attorney Adam Hall works for the law firm defending Cayhill. Hall also happens to be Cayhall’s grandson. He travels to Mississippi to do his best to save the only real family connection he has. In the process of trying to prevent Cayhall’s execution, Hall has to deal with several personal complications in this case. There’s the family history, for instance, which involves Ku Klux Klan membership and other shameful secrets. There’s also the broad ethical question of the death penalty. Hall has to come to terms with his own views about the death penalty, which aren’t so clear-cut when it comes to a member of his own family. And then there are Hall’s personal feelings about his grandfather – again, not simple. As Hall struggles with his personal and professional obligations, we get a real look at how complex the practice of law can be.

That’s also true in Scott Turow’s Innocent, in which fledgling attorney Nat Sabich has to cope with a truly wrenching experience: the trial of his father Rusty for the murder of his mother Barbara. The case against the defendant is compelling, too. Rusty Sabich remained with the body for nearly twenty-four hours before calling the police or emergency services. He doesn’t account satisfactorily for that, either. And then there’s the fact that although it looks at first as though Barbara Sabich died of heart failure, poison is also a good possibility, and it’s quite possible that Sabich is responsible. He has motive, too, considering his recent affair with a former law clerk. Although Nat Sabich himself doesn’t take on his father’s legal defense, he does give evidence at the trial, and he is mixed up in the case. As the lines between Nat Sabich’s personal and professional lives get blurred, we see how complex cases can be for attorneys.

That also happens in Åsa Larsson’s Sun Storm (AKA The Savage Altar). Stockholm tax attorney Rebecca Martinsson returns to her home town of Kiruna when her former friend Sanna Strångard is accused of murder. Sanna’s brother Viktor has been found murdered in a local church and Sanna was the one who found the body – always a legally precarious position for someone. To make matters worse, there turns out to be a very good motive for the murder. Martinsson is reluctant in any case to take on this obligation; she had her own reasons for leaving Kiruna in the first place and her friendship with the Strångard family has always been complicated. Besides, there are hints that Sanna may actually have committed the crime, and she certainly isn’t doing a lot to help her own cause. And yet, if Sanna’s not guilty, Martinsson doesn’t want her to be convicted, especially considering Sanna’s got two young children. So Martinsson asks questions and tries to clear her former friend’s name.

There’s a different sort of conflict for an attorney in Michael Connelly’s The Fifth Witness. In that novel, attorney Mickey Haller takes the case of Lisa Trammel, who’s been accused of murdering Mitchell Bondurant, the mortgage officer who was servicing Trammel’s home loan. She’s got motive, too, since she was about to lose her home to foreclosure. In fact, she’d been protesting the bank’s predatory practices so much that the bank got a restraining order against her. Haller doesn’t believe that Lisa Trammel is guilty, and as he begins to look into the bank’s practices and the relationships among the people at the bank, he sees that there is more than one suspect. Throughout this novel, Haller’s complex personal relationship with Lisa Trammel and his personal feelings about her and the case add a taut layer of suspense to the plot.

There are plenty of other novels, too, in which we see that attorneys are humans. They can’t always maintain the professional distance they might like from a case, and sometimes that complicates matters. Thanks, Bill, for the inspiration.

 

 
 

*NOTE:  The title of this post is a line from David Lindley’s Talk to the Lawyer.

Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me When I’m 64?*

Today is Valentine’s Day, and many people’s thoughts are on romance. The holiday’s been marketed to make you think of attraction, flowers, candy, jewelry, intimate dinners and further intimacy later. And there’s nothing wrong with those things. Really. They’re great. But if you think about it, they aren’t really the most important stuff of a relationship. The things that make a relationship are sometimes harder to put into words, which is possibly why it’s easier to market relationships in the way Valentine’s Day’s marketed. Just take a look at crime fiction and you’ll see what I mean.

One of those indefinable things about a relationship is mutual respect and support. Agatha Christie’s Tommy and Tuppence Beresford are like that. For instance, in Postern of Fate, the Beresfords have moved to the seaside town of Hollowquay, where they’ve just purchased what they think will be their retirement home. As they’re settling in, Tuppence goes through some books that former owners have left behind and finds one that seems to contain a cryptic message. The message hints that Mary Jordan, a German maid who lived in the area many years earlier, was murdered. Tuppence gets curious about the message and decides to find out more about it. At first, Tommy thinks it’s a little ridiculous and teases his wife about it. But he has enough respect for her to know that she’s neither stupid nor fanciful. So he can’t resist a little looking around of his own. It’s not long before between them, the Beresfords uncover a World War I-era story of espionage that still affects the town. Throughout this novel, it’s clear that the Beresfords take care of each other, especially now that they are no longer young, and respect each other, even though they aren’t blind to each other’s faults. It’s a subtle but very real portrait of a relationship and that makes this couple very appealing.

We also see that kind of relationship in Carolyn Graham’s series featuring DCI Tom Barnaby and his wife Joyce. They’ve been married for a long time and although Barnaby’s been tempted to stray once or twice, he never has. They do get exasperated with each other and neither is perfect. But it’s very clear they have that indefinable but quite real sort of bond that goes much deeper than a good bottle of champagne and a box of candy. My favourite Barnaby moment comes at the end of A Place of Safety. In that novel, Barnaby and Sergeant Gavin Troy investigate the disappearance of Carlotta Ryan, a troubled teenager who’d been staying with the local curate and his wife. One night, she and the curate’s wife have an argument on a local bridge, after which Carlotta appears to fall off the bridge. But her body doesn’t wash up and it’s not clear that she died. That argument is witnessed by Charlie Leathers, himself a person of a rather notorious reputation. When he is found garroted shortly afterwards it’s clear that something more than a runaway teen is going on. One of the sub-plots of this novel is that the Barnabys are getting ready to celebrate their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. There’s much discussion about it and on the night of the anniversary, they go out to dinner with their daughter Cully and her husband Nicolas. Everyone arrives home and Barnaby, a keen gardener, sees to his delight that his gift is a new lawn mower. Joyce joins him in the yard and soon, they discover that Cully and Nicolas have turned the radio on for them and have opened the kitchen window so they can hear:

 

“They stood quietly as more and more stars gathered, holding fast against the relentless movement of time that changes all things. And then they began to dance.”

 

See what I mean?

Another of those indefinable qualities in a relationship (and therefore hard to market well) is the ability to work through the inevitable “bumps in the road.” For instance, in Mark Richard Zubro’s Another Dead Teenager, we meet Chicago police detective Paul Turner. He and fellow officer Buck Fenwick have been assigned to investigate the brutal murders of two student athletes. Both boys were talented, had solid academic reputations and were well-liked. And both are from well-placed influential Chicago families. So there’s a great deal of pressure to make a quick arrest. Then there’s another brutal attack. Now Turner and Fenwick have to contend not just with a killer who seems to be stalking teenagers, but also with the increasing pressure from the police brass and the media to find the killer. In the meantime, Turner and his partner service station owner Ben Vargas have been going through a rough patch. Matters aren’t helped by the fact that this case means that Turner spends even more time than usual at work. And yet, it’s clear that this couple doesn’t plan to let a temporary rough patch break them up. They help each other, they miss each other when they don’t spend time together and at one point, Turner even says that the hardest thing about the case is missing his partner. One of Vargas’ employees gives Turner this insight about mixing police work and relationships:

 

“‘They’re all tough cases,’ she said. ‘How often do you meet a man who loves you? How often do you find somebody who likes your kids, too?…
All I know is, Ben loves you. The more he doesn’t see you, the more grumpy he gets around here…’”

 

It’s not a spoiler to say that at the end of the novel, Turner and Vargas patch things up, and it’s largely because each is willing to do the work that that requires. How can you market that? Still, it’s worth a lot in a relationship.

Everyone has personal baggage. Some people have more baggage than others, and part of the stuff of a relationship is how the other person reacts to that baggage, especially if it’s painful. For instance, in Paddy Richardson’s Hunting Blind, we meet Stephanie Anderson, who’s just completing her program in psychiatry in Dunedin. When Anderson was fourteen, her four-year-old sister Gemma was abducted at a school picnic and never returned. Since that time, Anderson’s been shattered, although she has made a life for herself after a fashion. Still, she’s never really opened up about what happened. Then one of her patients tells a story that is eerily similar to Anderson’s own. This patient also tells of a younger sister who disappeared and never returned. Despite herself, Anderson begins to ask questions. She wants resolution. So she uses what she learns from her patient and begins her own search for Gemma’s abductor. Along the way, she meets Dan, a hunting guide with his own baggage. He invites Anderson on a hunting trip and although she has never fired a gun in her life, Anderson agrees to go. The two head off into the bush for a camping and hunting trip. As the trip goes on, they inevitably get to talking about their lives, and one night at the campfire, she mentions her family and then says,

 

“‘But let’s talk about something else. You don’t want to hear about all this. Change of subject, okay?’
‘I’d like you to tell me.’
She tells him….About Gemma. She hears her voice in the darkness telling her secrets, laying them all out and she doesn’t know why she is doing this but once she starts it seems she is unable to stop herself, to stop this torrent of words.
She’s finished and silent, hears herself begin to weep, feels herself being gathered up into his arms…”

 

What’s especially effective is that Dan isn’t holding her for the obvious reason (although they do begin an intimate relationship). He’s simply accepting that she has a great deal of pain and he’s trying to share  it.

Another part of the stuff of real relationships is the sense of humour, especially over the long term, that keeps them alive. Here, for instance, is perhaps my favourite “couple” scene. This one takes place in Donna Leon’s About Face, in which Commissario Guido Brunetti and Ispettore Lorenzo Vianello look into the connections between illegal trucking practices, toxic waste disposal and two murderers. One morning, Brunetti wakes to find that it’s snowed. He opens the window and makes a handprint in the snow because he can’t resist. Then, playfully, he returns to his bed, where his wife Paola Falier is only pretending to be asleep:

 

“‘If you put that hand anywhere near me, I will divorce you and take the children.’
‘They’re old enough to decide themselves,’ he answered with what he thought was Olympian calm.
‘I cook,’ she said.
‘Indeed,’ he said in acknowledgment of defeat.”

 

Now, how can you package that? And yet it is the real stuff of a real relationship. And that’s what the TV commercials never really tell you…

 

Happy Valentine’s Day!

 

ps   Oh, the ‘photo? That’s a ‘photo of my grandparents-in-law. It was taken in Atlantic City in the early 1930’s, when my grandmother-in-law was a bride of not much more than 17. Don’t they look dashing? You can click on the ‘photo to enlarge it if you’d like. They stayed married for many decades. What a great couple! They knew all of this stuff long before I was born…

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from The Beatles’ When I’m 64.