Step, Kick, Kick, Leap, Kick, Touch*

When you were small, what did you want to be when you grew up? For a lot of people the answer to that question is, ‘a dancer.’ When you see them onstage, dancers make it look easy. They look elegant, they sometimes wear fabulous costumes and it seems that they live an exciting life. So it’s no wonder so many children think it’d be wonderful to be a dancer. Of course if you’ve ever studied dancing then you know that it’s not at all easy to dance. It’s a challenging life in which you have to devote years of hard work to prepare and in which you have to prepare intensively for every performance. And yet there’s still a lot of mystique about dancers. Little wonder that they show up in crime fiction.

For example, one of the important characters in Agatha Christie’s The Mystery of the Blue Train is Mme. Mirelle, a dancer whose performances have captured everyone’s fancy. Mirelle has a great deal of talent and glamour, but that doesn’t mean she’s at all perfect. When the story begins, she’s having an affair with Derek Kettering, who can, if I may put it this way, afford to keep her in the luxury she feels she deserves. But that’s only because Kettering is married to wealthy Ruth Van Aldin. When Ruth threatens divorce, Mirelle makes it clear that she was ‘not born to be poor’ and that she will leave Kettering too. Then, Ruth is murdered during a trip from London to Nice on the Blue Train. Hercule Poirot is on the same train and gets involved in the investigation. As he slowly puts together what happened during the trip, he learns that Ruth had with her a very valuable ruby that has since been stolen, so she could have been killed for the gem. On the other hand, it turns out that both Kettering and his mistress were on the same train, so one of them could also be guilty. There are other possibilities too as Poirot soon learns…

In Dorothy Sayers’ Have His Carcase, mystery novelist Harriet Vane is on a hiking holiday near Wilvercombe. She stops to take a rest near a beach which looks comfortable and peaceful. When she wakes up, the tide is out and she sees a dead man’s body. She goes for help but by the time she returns, the tide has come in again and there is no evidence as to who the man is or who killed him. Soon, though, the victim is identified as Paul Alexis, a Russian-born professional dancer who worked at the Hotel Resplendent. Once it’s known who the dead man was, the police begin to look for people he might have known who would have had a motive to murder him. Lord Peter Wimsey joins Harriet and together they find out that there are several possibilities. There’s some evidence that Alexis might have been mixed up in Russian politics and that this might be a politically-motivated killing. Alexis’ personal life also comes in for some scrutiny and there are some possibilities there too. In the end an interesting cipher leads Harriet and Lord Peter to the truth.

Christopher Fowler’s Full Dark House is really the story of two mysteries. One told in flashback form is the first case that Arthur Bryant and John May of London’s Peculiar Crimes Unit (PCU) worked. In that flashback it’s 1940 and the Palace Theatre is planning a production of Orpheus. Dancer Tanya Capistrania is to have a solo part in the production, so she spends a great deal of time at the theatre rehearsing. One afternoon she’s just finished when she is killed and her feet removed. That’s just the sort of unusual crime that the PCU was set up to investigate, so Bryant and May begin their work. Then, Charles Senechal, who was to have another role in the production, is killed by a heavy piece of scenery. Then there’s another death, and the disappearance of one of the other dancers. It’s clear now that someone wants to ruin the production and Bryant and May have to find out who it is before there are more disasters.

In Tony Hillerman’s Sacred Clowns, Navajo Tribal Police Sergeant Jim Chee has been asked to find Delmar Kinetewa, who disappeared from his residential school. He tracks the boy to a Tano ceremonial event that involves sacred dancing. One of the dancers is Kinetewa’s uncle Francis Sayesva, who has an important part in the ritual. The dance finishes and the crowd watching it begins to disperse. That’s when Sayesva is found dead in an alley. When Chee discovers the relationship between Sayesva and Kinetewa, he is sure that the murder is related to the boy’s disappearance. As it turns out, it’s also related to the murder Eric Dorsey, a shop teacher at the school the boy attended. What’s interesting about this story is that it’s actually something Sayesva does during his part of the dance that leads to his death.

And then there’s Paddy Richardson’s Cross Fingers, her second novel featuring Wellington television journalist Rebecca Thorne. Thorne is working on an exposé that she hopes will reveal the shady dealings of crooked property developer Denny Graham. She’s got witnesses lined up and she’s ready to put the piece together when her boss Tim Morrow asks her to work on something else. It’s the 30^th anniversary of the protests against the 1981 Springboks’ tour of New Zealand, and Morrow wants her to do a piece on the events of that year. At the time of The Tour, apartheid was still in full force in South Africa and many New Zealanders thought that letting the Springboks play in their country would condone apartheid. On the other hand, rugby is extremely important in New Zealand, so a lot of rugby fans wanted the tour to go on. The police were tasked with protecting the guests, maintaining order and still allowing people to peacefully protest. As anyone who knows about The Tour can tell you, things went from tense to devastating. But at first Thorne is reluctant to do the story, as she is afraid she’ll lose the faith of the people who are willing to talk to her about Denny Graham. What’s more, she feels that the story’s been done already – she doesn’t have much new to add. Morrow insists though and Thorne gets started. Then she finds an angle on The Tour that no-one’s done. During the protests, two people dressed as lambs would come to the games to entertain the crowd. They’d dance, make fun and generally try to liven things up. Then, all of a sudden, they stopped appearing at the protests and games. Thorne wants to follow up and find out what happened to The Lambs. One of them turns out to be a professional dancer who was murdered during The Tour. As Thorne looks into that murder and into what happened to The Lambs, she uncovers some long-held secrets that someone is willing to do an awful lot to keep hidden.

Dancers look graceful, have a lot of talent and seem to have lives that a lot of the rest of us might envy. But they work incredibly hard to get to the proverbial top of the tree and not a lot of their lives is really all that glamourous Still, they spellbind us in real life and in crime fiction…

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Marvin Hamlish and Edward Kleban’s I Hope I Get It.

I See the Place Lives*

Any crime fiction fan can tell you that a good, atmospheric setting can add a lot to a novel. And a well-written post from Annette Thomson has got me thinking of the way that old buildings can be rich with history and character. Annette’s blog, by the way, is an excellent writing blog and Annette is a talented poet and writer. Check it out. Old buildings like the one Annette describes have their own stories to tell, and when they’re woven into a crime novel, this can add layers of atmosphere to a story.

There’s a building like that in Agatha Christie’s After the Funeral. When wealthy family patriarch Richard Abernethie dies, his family gathers for his funeral and the reading of the will. At this gathering, Abernethie’s younger sister Cora Lansquenet says that he was murdered. Everyone is quick to discount what she says and Cora herself asks everyone to forget she’s said anything. But privately, everyone wonders whether she might have been right. After all, Richard Abernethie had a fortune to leave and a family full of relations who are eager for their shares of it. When Cora herself is brutally murdered the next day it seems more and more likely that she was right. Family lawyer Mr. Entwhistle visits Hercule Poirot and asks him to investigate. As part of his search for answers, Poirot visits Enderby Hall in the guise of a representative of a foundation that wants to buy the old house. During his visit, he hears some important conversations and remarks, and gets some vital clues as to what really happened to both Richard Abernethie and Cora Lansquenet. The house itself has a rich history and we see that mostly through the eyes of the family butler Lanscombe, who’s been there for decades. As he goes about his duties we get a sense of the way an old building like this one can have memories.

There’s a very atmospheric, history-laden building featured in John Dickson Carr’s Hag’s Nook, the first in his Gideon Fell series. Tad Rampole has just completed his university studies and has decided to travel a bit. On the advice of his mentor, he seeks out Dr. Gideon Fell, who lives in Chatterham. On his way to visit Fell, Rampole meets and becomes smitten with Dorothy Starberth. When he meets Fell, Rampole hears the story of the Starberth family. Beginning with Anthony Starberth, two generations of Starberths were governors of nearby Chatterham Prison. The prison then fell into disuse and hasn’t housed any convicts for a hundred years. And yet the Starberth family still maintains a prison-related tradition. On the night of his twenty-fifth birthday each Starberth heir spends the night in the old Governor’s Room at the prison. While there, he opens the safe in the room and follows the instructions in a note left in the safe. Now it’s the turn of Dorothy Starberth’s brother Martin to follow the ritual and he duly prepares for his stay. Sometime during the night Martin Starberth dies from what looks like a fall from the balcony of the Governor’s Room. But it’s soon clear that he was murdered. As Fell, Rampole and Chief Constable Sir Benjamin Arnold investigate, we get a real sense of the rich and eerie history of the prison building. The old building adds much to the story in terms of atmosphere.

So does the Palace Theatre in Christopher Fowler’s Full Dark House.  When Arthur Bryant of London’s Peculiar Crimes Unit (PCU) decides to write his memoirs, he makes a shocking discovery about the first case the unit solved. He’s following up on this finding when a bomb blast destroys the PCU offices and takes Bryant with it. Bryant’s police partner John May decides to find out who set the bomb. To do that, he’ll have to revisit the 1940 case that Bryant was reviewing. Through flashbacks we learn that in that case, the PCU investigates the murder of dancer Tanya Capistrania, who was part of the cast of Orpheus, which is scheduled to open at the Palace Theatre. As the team looks into what happened to the victim, preparations continue for the production, but they are marred by another murder, followed by a disappearance. It turns out that there was one question about that case that was not resolved. Bryant found out the answer to that question and when May does too, we find out how that 1940 case is connected to the modern-day blast. Throughout this novel, the Palace Theatre provides a rich, atmospheric and history-laden setting for much of what happens. Just the building itself adds much to the story.

We also see that sense of atmosphere in Patricia Stoltey’s The Desert Hedge Murders. Retired Florida circuit court judge Sylvia Thorn reluctantly agrees to accompany her mother Kristina Grisseljon’s travel club the Florida Flippers on a sightseeing and gambling tour of Laughlin, Nevada. Everyone settles in and all begins well enough. But shortly afterwards the body of a man no-one seems to know is found in the bathtub of the hotel room that two of the club members are sharing. Then one of the tour group members disappears. She is later found dead in the abandoned Lone Cactus gold mine. With help from her brother Willie and from the other members of the Florida Flippers, Sylvia finds out what the connection between the deaths is, and how they relate to some nasty secrets that someone has been hiding. One part of the story takes place in Oatman, Nevada, a ghost town near the mine. There are a few very effective scenes there, especially in the Oatman Hotel, which is full of history and character. As a matter of fact, there’s talk that a ghost haunts the hotel. The ghost town setting and the old mine really add atmosphere to this novel. Oh, and so do the burros.

And then there’s the Löwander Hospital, which features strongly in Helene Tursten’s Night Rounds. This private hospital has been in the Löwander family for a few generations and is now directed by Sverker Löwander. One night there’s a blackout at the hospital during which a nurse Marianne Svärd is killed. Another nurse Linda Svensson disappears and is later found dead. Eerily enough, her body is discovered in the same place where fifty years earlier, another nurse Thekla Olsson hung herself. Göteborg police inspector Irene Huss and her team are called in to investigate the nurses’ murders and another death that occurs. Since the three deaths all seem to be connected to the hospital in some way, the team spends its share of time there. The place is full of history and stories and that atmosphere adds to the novel.

There’s only room in this one post for a few examples of the kind of rich atmosphere and history that old buildings can add to a story (I know, I know, fans of Johan Theorin’s Öland novels). They can either provide an interesting contrast to a light story, or add a real layer of eeriness and mystery to a darker one. Which old buildings do you wish could tell you their stories? If you’re a writer, do you use old places as an inspiration?

Thanks, Annette, for the post that inspired me. And thanks, Elizabeth Spann Craig, for another post with a ‘photo of a great atmospheric Southern Gothic building. That inspired me too.

ps. The ‘photo is of Old Main, the heart of the campus of Knox College, Galesburg IL.  It is a building full of history and all sorts of stories. Among other things, the building is the site of one of the famous Lincoln/Douglas debates of 1858. Oh, and the winsome model on the steps is my daughter when she was a few months shy of her seventh birthday.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Mount Eerie’s The Place Lives.

There’s No Business Like Show Business*

I’ve mentioned it before on this blog and I’ll say so again: there’s something about the theatre. Whether you like musical theatre, traditional plays or other kinds of productions, live theatre can be mesmerising. And theatre settings make terrific contexts for crime fiction. First, the buildings themselves are often full of history and secrets. And even new theatre buildings have all sorts of places to connive, to hide bodies and so on. And when you consider the mix of personalities, the egos involved, the stress of preparing for a show and all of the (pardon the pun) drama, you’ve got some very effective ingredients for a crime fiction novel.

Ngaio Marsh fans will know that she had a theatre background and often used that background in her novels. Just as one example (there are many!), in Opening Night (AKA Night at the Vulcan), Martyn Tarn moves from her home in New Zealand to try to make a name for herself in London theatre. She gets a chance to work at the Vulcan Theatre when famous actress Helena Hamilton needs a fill-in dresser. As she’s being shown round the theatre, Martyn hears an old Vulcan legend of a man who was killed in one of the dressing rooms. Not being the superstitious type, she doesn’t think much of the story. She settles into life at the Vulcan and it’s not long before she proves herself. In fact, she’s talented enough to be named Helena Hamilton’s understudy. Then Helena’s husband Clark Bennington dies by gas poisoning in what looks like a case of suicide. But his death eerily resembles the legend Martyn heard when she first came to the Vulcan. When Bennington’s death is shown to be murder, Inspector Roderick Alleyn (quite a lover of the theatre) investigates. Like many of Marsh’s other novels, this one shows us theatre life, theatre legends and old stories, and the kinds of people who get involved in theatre.

Simon Brett’s Charles Paris series has the theatre scene as its main focus. Paris is an actor who’s struggled a bit. He’s not lacking in talent, but he doesn’t have a very skilled agent. What’s worse, he also doesn’t have the best of judgement, he drinks much more than he should, and that’s part of why he’s separated from his wife. So his personal life isn’t exactly a source of happiness for him either. And yet, Paris loves the theatre and acting, and we see that throughout the series. In What Bloody Man is That?, Paris’ agent has managed to get him a ‘play as cast’ role in the Pintero Theatre, Warminster’s production of The Scottish Play. The final casting choices are made, rehearsals begin and Paris is soon busy with the production. Then one day shortly before opening night, rehearsals are even more of a nightmare than they usually are and everyone copes with the stress by heading towards the theatre’s bar. Paris joins them and drinks much more than he should. He lurches back to his dressing room and falls asleep there. Waking up at three in the morning, he finds himself locked in the theatre. He also finds that he’s not alone. Noted actor Warnock Belvedere has died of what turns out to be poison and Paris discovers his body. Thinking that he’ll be suspected of the murder, Paris decides to find out for himself who killed Belvedere. He’s got a lot of suspects to choose from too; Belvedere might have been a talented actor but he was also obnoxious, misogynistic and supremely arrogant. In the end, Paris figures out who killed Belvedere and as he does so, we get a good look at life ‘behind the curtain.’

Bev Robitai’s Theatre Mysteries series features Auckland’s Regent Theatre and its manager Jessica Jones Matherson. In Murder in the Second Row, the company is planning a production of Agatha Christie’s Appointment With Death (Hmm…wonder why that might have got my attention? ). Like most productions, this one has its share of stresses and challenges. One of them is the outsized ego of Simone Duchaine, who’s slated to take the role of Mrs. Boynton. She’s a diva who’s accustomed to being pampered, so it’s hard to work with her. And then there’s Tamara Fitzpatrick, who’s taking the role of Mrs. Boynton’s daughter-in-law Natalie. Tamara has succeeded in upsetting just about everyone and in hitting on just about all of the men in the cast. So when her body is discovered in the back row of one of the stalls, DSS Jack Matherson has quite a list of suspects. He’s also got a long list of suspects in Body on the Stage, in which the theatre plans a production called Ladies Night. Dennis Dempster is out of shape and out of sorts after his divorce. So his sister persuades him to do something to get him out of the house. He joins the crew of the Regent and soon finds himself involved in a murder case when Vincenzo Barino, who’s been helping to train the dancers, is killed. In both of these stories there’s an effective blend of character interplay, theatre life and of course, the Regent itself. Bev, if you’re reading this, I’m looking forward to the next Theatre Mystery.

Deborah Nicholson’s Kate Carpenter series features Calgary’s Foothill Stage Network and Carpenter, its house manager. This series begins with House Report, in which the body of Peter Reynolds is discovered in one of the building’s men’s washrooms. Reynolds was the ex-husband of one of the employees who works in the building where the Foothills Stage Network is housed. So there are soon several suspects in the case. Nicholson gets interested in the case in part because Reynolds’ body was found ‘on her watch’ and in part because of his connection to her theatre group. Then, her boyfriend Norman ‘Cam ‘ Caminski becomes a suspect, and Nicholson is more determined than ever to find out who the real killer is. This series gives readers an authentic look at ‘theatre people,’ life backstage and the work that goes into putting on a show.

In Christopher Fowler’s Full Dark House, John May of London’s Peculiar Crimes Unit (PCU) re-opens his first investigation with his partner Arthur Bryant. At the same time as May is re-opening the case in the present day, we follow the original 1940 investigation. At that time, the Palace Theatre is planning a production of Orpheus. Everything’s moving along until solo dancer Tanya Capistrania is murdered. Bryant and May are just beginning to look into that death when Charles Senechal, who is to play Jupiter in the production, is killed in what looks like a tragic accident with scenery. Then there’s another death. And a disappearance. Bit by bit, Bryant and May put the pieces together and after a ‘wrong turn’ or two, they find out who is behind the theatre disasters. But one piece of the case is not resolved and has consequences many years later. Those consequences are what prompt May to take another look at the case.

There are lots of other mysteries too that have theatre scenes (I’m thinking of Agatha Christie’s Sleeping Murder and Anthony Bidulka’s Flight of Aquavit) even if the whole story isn’t set ‘on stage.’  It’s easy to see why the theatre figures so much in crime fiction. The buildings are often terrific settings for murders, the character mix allows for lots of different possibilities, and there are plenty of possible motives. I’ve only had room for a few examples here, so I’m quite sure you’ll be able to add lots more. Which ones have you enjoyed?
 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is the title of an Irving Berlin song.

In The Spotlight: Christopher Fowler’s Full Dark House

Hello, All,

Welcome to another edition of In The Spotlight. There’ve been quite a lot of police procedural series so it’s a challenge to create one that is both innovative and credible. But innovation keeps the genre fresh so today let’s take a closer look at a police procedural series that’s anything but ‘garden variety:’ Christopher Fowler’s Bryant and May stories. Let’s turn the spotlight on the first of these novels, Full Dark House.

Arthur Bryant and John May have very different mindsets and approaches to solving crimes (more on that shortly).Both though are members of the Peculiar Crimes Unit (PCU), which was set up in 1940 to investigate crimes that the regular police detective teams couldn’t make much progress in solving. The two men have been the main members of the PCU since that time, so they have a long history together. When Bryant decides to write his memoirs, he makes a shocking discovery about the first PCU case and begins to investigate. Shortly after he starts asking questions, a bomb blast destroys the PCU offices and takes Bryant with it.

Now his grieving partner decides to deal with his loss by finding out who set the bomb that killed Arthur Bryant. To do that, May will have to go back to the 1940 Palace Phantom case, the case that Bryant was following up on when the blast occurred. That story, which Fowler tells in tandem with the modern day investigation, starts with the murder of Tanya Capistrania, who was to have a solo part in the Palace Theatre’s upcoming production of Orpheus. The victim’s feet have been removed and although they’re found later, it’s an unusual kind of a crime – exactly the kind the PCU was set up to investigate. Bryant and May are just beginning to look into the case when there’s another death. French actor Charles Senechal, who was to play the role of Jupiter in the production, is killed in what looks like a horrible accident with scenery. Then there’s another death. And a disappearance. It’s obvious that someone wants very badly to close down Orpheus and Bryant and May and their team members are under a lot of pressure to solve the case before any more mayhem occurs.

At the same time as the young Bryant and May pursue the truth about what’s really going on at the theatre, the modern-day May slowly follows the trail his partner left. When we find out who is behind the events at the theatre and what the real motive is, we learn that an important aspect of the case was never resolved and that’s the piece that the modern-day Bryant discovered. In the end, we see how the past and present are woven together when the final piece of the 1940 puzzle is put in place.

This is a police procedural, so there’s an emphasis on collecting and making sense of evidence, following leads, interviewing witnesses and suspects and so on. There’s also a strong element of police politics running through the novel. The PCU is not exactly a choice assignment. It was originally set up to maintain public morale during the worst of the Blitz, the idea being that strange and ‘unsolvable’ crimes would lead to hysteria at a time when the public most needed to stay calm. However it’s not highly regarded and its members are constantly under ‘surveillance’ by the Powers That Be. In fact, one of its members Sidney Biddle was specifically assigned to keep tabs on the other team members and report to the top brass about them. And yet, the (dare I say it) scrappy, badly-underfunded little unit does prove itself.

There is also a strong element of atmosphere and setting in this novel. Readers are placed clearly in two Londons. One is the London of 1940, under siege by the Blitz, subject to real privation and rationing and coping with awful losses, both human and structural. Fowler doesn’t get gruesome, but neither does he sugarcoat the terrible toll that World War II took on London. The other London is the modern-day London of 21^st Century technology, drugs gangs, diversity and the realities of today’s economics. It too is exciting and dangerous, but it is not the London that Bryan and May knew as young men.

Readers also get a strong sense of life in the theatre. The building itself is the scene for several of the events that happen, and it’s suitably mysterious, full of secrets and history and sometimes really creepy. We follow along as the 1940 cast, crew and front-office staff members gather together, rehearse, prepare for the opening of the production and deal with the large and small disasters that go along with any theatre production. I know it’s cliché, but in this case it’s fitting: the theatre really is a character in this novel.

You couldn’t at all call this novel a light, upbeat story. But there is a thread of sometimes sarcastic humour woven through it. Here, for example, is a bit of a description of Bryant and May’s first encounter with the theatre company’s artistic director Helena Parole:

 

‘Helena Parole had a handshake like a pair of mole grips and a smile so false she could have stood for Parliament. ‘Thank you so much for taking the time to come down and see us,’ she told May, as though she had requested his attendance at an audition. Her vocal chords had been gymnastically regraded to dramatize her speech, so that her every remark emerged as a declaration.’

 

There are some darkly funny moments in the novel too. For instance, Tanya Capistrania’s feet turn up in the stall of a chestnut vendor who was off obeying a call of nature. Bryant says of it,

 

‘I always think anyone who eats pavement food deserves an upset stomach, but this is beyond the pale.’

 

Readers who dislike that sort of black humour will be disappointed, but (to me anyway) Fowler doesn’t cross the line between dark humour and gratuitous gore used for effect.

Perhaps the strongest element in this novel is the partnership between the very different Arthur Bryant and John May. Bryant is by just about anyone’s standards eccentric, to say the least. He reads up on mythology, witchcraft, and arcane studies. He has a strange sense of humour and doesn’t care much how he dresses. He counts mediums among his friends and is happy to consider even the most unlikely explanation for a murder. In fact in this case he goes off on a very mistaken tangent at one point. But he’s easy to underestimate. He’s smart, shrewd and a good judge of character and in the end, he out-thinks the killer. For his part, John May thinks logically and uses evidence to lead him to a theory. He doesn’t have much truck with superstition or mythology and he has a rather orderly mind. He’s what some people call well-grounded. But he too is easy to underestimate. He’s a quick thinker and quite capable of taking suspects and witnesses by surprise. The two men really complement one another. At the beginning of their partnership each is a little awkward with the other. But as the years go by, they form a deep friendship despite the fact that they’re very different.

The mysteries themselves – both the modern-day case and the 1940 case – are believable once one understands the motives. Readers who prefer a simple explanation for a crime such as jealousy, greed or lust will be disappointed; this one’s more psychological and complex than that. But it fits with the characters and setting and the detectives find out the truth in a believable way.

Full Dark House is a uniquely London story featuring an unusual crime unit and two likeable sleuths. It’s got a pair of mysteries that are not obvious, a really unexpected twist at the end, and effective use of sarcastic wit and dark humour. But what’s your view? Have you read Full Dark House? If you have, what elements do you see in it?

 

 
 

Coming Up On In The Spotlight

 

Monday 4 March/Tuesday 5 March – House Report – Deborah Nicholson

Monday 11 March/Tuesday 12 March – The Rage – Gene Kerrigan

Monday 18 March/Tuesday 19 March – The Mystery of a Butcher’s Shop – Gladys Mitchell