Category Archives: Erle Stanley Gardner

Hello It’s Me*

TelephonesYou don’t see many public telephones any more, at least not in the area where I live. In part that’s because so many people have mobile ‘phones; there’s just no need for them. Telephones have become rich storehouses of people’s information, so when there is a murder, the police check the victim’s telephone to see who might have contacted that person and when the last calls were placed. All of this helps to narrow down the possibilities when it comes to suspects and motives for murder.

Actually telephone records have been around for a long time as very useful tools. And an interesting comment exchange with Rebecca Bradley has got me thinking about that. Now, I’ll wait while you go visit Rebecca’s blog. It’s an excellent resource for readers and writers of crime fiction. And Rebecca hosts the online Crime Book Club, which discusses a different crime novel each month (This month: Alan Bradley’s The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie – Wednesday 16 April, 8PM GMT).

Back now? Right – telephones. Hercule Poirot uses records of telephone calls in Hercule Poirot’s Christmas (AKA A Holiday For Murder and Murder For Christmas). In that novel, we meet the various members of the Lee family, which is headed by unpleasant and tyrannical patriarch Simeon Lee. When he invites his family to gather at Gorston Hall for Christmas, no-one really wants to accept. But at the same time, no-one dares to refuse. On Christmas Eve, Lee is murdered in his private room. Hercule Poirot is staying nearby with a friend, and he works with Superintendent Sugden to find out who the murderer is. It’s not easy either because all of the family members have motives for murder. One of them is Lee’s son George, a Member of Parliament and very concerned about his image. He claims that he was making a telephone call at the time of the murder. It’s interesting to find out what the truth about that telephone call reveals about George Lee. What’s more, it shows that even then, detectives traced calls.

We see that in Erle Stanley Gardner’s The Case of the Velvet Claws too. Perry Mason’s been hired by Eva Belter to stop sleazy tabloid reporter Frank Locke from blackmailing her. Locke found out that she was having an affair with an up-and-coming politician and plans to milk that for all it’s worth. Mason agrees to meet with Locke to try to get him to leave Belter alone. They do meet but Mason is sure that Locke knows more than he’s saying. So he follows Locke one day, ending up at a local hotel. There, he arranges with the hotel telephone operator to trace a call that Locke makes. The information from that call gives Mason the information he needs about why his client has been targeted for blackmail. But that’s when things get complicated. When Eva’s husband George is murdered, she becomes the prime suspect and appeals to Mason to clear her name.

Qiu Xiaolong’s Death of Red Heroine takes place in 1990’s Shanghai, not many years before mobile telephones became easily available to almost everyone. In that novel, Chief Inspector Chen Cao and his assistant Yu Guangming investigate the murder of national model worker Guang Hongying. Her body is found one afternoon in the Baili Canal, and it’s thought at first that she was raped and killed by a taxi driver. But there are pieces of evidence that suggest otherwise. This case will be delicate though, because the victim was linked to several powerful people. Still, Chen and Yu persevere. One of the leads they follow is a series of telephone calls that ties the victim to one particular person. Those calls are all made from and received at a public telephone and it’s interesting to see how those records are kept.

As I say, most people now have mobile telephones, and those records can prove extremely helpful. Of course, people who want to cover their tracks know that too, so they often use pay-as-you-go ‘phones. But the police can find those useful too at times. In one plot thread of Gene Kerrigan’s The Rage for instance, DS Bob Tidey is working with Garda Detective Rose Cheney on the murder of Emmet Sweetman, a dubious banker who made a lot of money during the ‘Celtic Tiger’ years, but got into serious financial trouble when the crash came. He did business with some dangerous people and the detectives want to know who those associates are. They’re lucky enough to find Sweetman’s pay-as-you-go ‘phone, which he used for his off-the-record dealings, and that discovery proves quite informative.

Today’s telephones are also frequently used for texting, and those texts can also be very helpful to detectives. In C.J. Box’s Below Zero for instance, Wyoming game warden Joe Pickett is on the trail of the Mad Archer, a poacher who shoots animals and leaves them to die. Then Pickett’s daughter Sheridan begins receiving text messages from her foster sister April Keeley, whom everyone thought was tragically killed six years earlier. Pickett rushes home to find out the truth about those texts. If they were from April, then he wants to trace her. Where has she been and why hasn’t she contacted her foster family? If the texts are not from April, Pickett wants to know who would want to play the sick game of pretending they are. Those text messages turn out to be very helpful in leading Pickett to the truth about April.

Of course, it’s not always as easy as it may seem to use telephone records. In Vicki Delany’s Winter of Secrets, Constable Molly Smith and Sergeant John Winters investigate the Christmastime deaths of Jason Wyatt-Yarmouth and his friend Ewan Williams. Part of that investigation is a set of interviews with the victims’ friends. At one point Winters asks one of them if Jason got a call on Christmas Eve:


‘‘I don’t know. We didn’t keep him under armed guard, you know. Can’t you check his phone calls or something?’
Everyone knew too much these days, or thought they did, about police methods. Ewan and Jason both had cell phones on them. Completely ruined by their immersion in the icy river. Winters had put in a request for the phone records of the dead men but had yet to hear back. It was a slow week everywhere.’


It’s sometimes a difficult process to get telephone information, although of course, you don’t see that on television or films.

Still, telephone records give extremely valuable information in solving cases. With modern messaging, Internet capability and so on, they’re increasingly individual too. Little wonder cops always look for people’s telephones.

Oh, sorry, I’ve got a call – must take this. Thanks, Rebecca, for the inspiration!



*NOTE: The title of this post is the title of a Todd Rundgren song.


Filed under Agatha Christie, C.J. Box, Erle Stanley Gardner, Gene Kerrigan, Qiu Xiaolong, Vicki Delany

If I Listened Long Enough to You, I’d Find a Way to Believe That it’s All True*

Believing the LieMost of us don’t feel particularly comfortable when we lie, even if it’s a ‘little white lie’ that’s meant well. It’s not in most people’s nature to lie easily, and that’s why police interrogators, profilers and so on can often tell when a person is lying. Non-verbals and other hints make it clear that that person isn’t entirely comfortable.

There are some people though who are very, very good liars. In fact, they’re so good at lying that they seem to (or do they?) believe the lies themselves. That can be scary because it’s hard to know exactly what is true and what is not true. And in crime fiction, it means that the sleuth has to go through layers upon layers of what a person says to get to the truth of a case. There are many, many examples of this kind of character in crime fiction. I’ll just mention a few to give you a sense of what I mean.

In Erle Stanley Gardner’s The Case of the Velvet Claws, attorney Perry Mason gets a new client Eva Griffin. She’s being blackmailed by Frank Locke, a reporter for Spicy Bits, who has threatened to publicise her romance with up-and-coming politician Hamilton Burke. Since Eva is married, this could be damaging both to her and to Burke. So she wants Mason to stop Locke. Mason agrees, but it’s not long before he learns that Eva Griffin is not a truthful client. She hasn’t even told him her real name, which is Eva Belter. But truthful or not, Eva is Mason’s client, so he continues to work on the case. Then one night, he gets a frantic call from Eva, who tells him that her husband George has just been shot. She begs Mason for help and he agrees to go. But it’s not long before Eva herself is accused of the murder. Mason does his best to defend his client, who swears that she is not guilty. But Eva cannot seem to tell the truth about much of anything. She tells so many lies in fact that Mason’s assistant Della Street wants him to drop the case. Mason refuses though, and perseveres until he finds out who really killed George Belter and why.

In Agatha Christie’s Cards on the Table, Hercule Poirot is invited to a very unusual dinner. The eccentric Mr. Shaitana has invited seven other guests: three other sleuths and four people who, Shaitana hints, have got away with murder. During the meal, Shaitana throws out hints to each of the suspected killers. Then after dinner, everyone settles in to play bridge. Sometime during the game, one of the guests stabs Shaitana. There are only four possible suspects – the four people Shaitana had hinted were murderers. So Poirot, Superintendent Battle, Colonel Race and Ariadne Oliver work to find out which guest is the murderer. To do this, they have to look into the past history of each guest to find out whether they committed murder and whether Shaitana could have known about it. One of the guests Anne Meredith was companion to a woman named Mrs. Benson, who died tragically of poisoning from hat paint. It was always assumed that she accidentally confused the hat paint with medicine she was supposed to be taking. But is that what really happened? Did Anne Meredith poison her? If so, did she also stab Shaitana? It’s hard to know if she’s the guilty party because as the sleuths discover, Anne Meredith is a very accomplished liar…

Dashiell Hammett’s The Thin Man introduces us to Nick and Nora Charles, who are visiting New York. By chance, Dorothy Wynant spots Nick, who’s a former private detective, and asks for his help. Her father Clyde Wynant disappeared after a bitter breakup with her mother Mimi, and she wants to track him down. Nick wants nothing to do with the case at first, but then he gets a visit from Wynant’s attorney Herbert Macaulay, who wonders whether Nick has been hired to find Wynant. Then the next day Wynant’s secretary Julia Wolf is found murdered. Now Nick is drawn into the case and finds himself trying to find out what’s happened to Wynant and who killed his secretary. One of the suspects is Mimi Wynant, but it’s very difficult to find out anything from her. As one of the other characters puts it:


‘When you catch her in a lie, she admits it and gives you another lie to take its place and, when you catch her in that one, admits it and gives you still another, and so on….She keeps trying and you’ve got to be careful or you’ll find yourself believing her, not because she seems to be telling the truth, but simply because you’re tired of disbelieving her.’


What makes Mimi all the more interesting is that at times it’s hard to tell whether she is actually aware she’s lying, or whether she really believes the things that she says.

Wendy James’ Out of the Silence is a fictionalised retelling of the story of Maggie Heffernan. In 1900, she was convicted of the killing of her infant son and remanded to a Melbourne prison. But the story behind those events is not as simple as it seems, as we learn in James’ retelling. In 1898, Maggie meets Jack Hardy, who’s visiting from Sydney. As the saying goes, he sweeps her off her feet. Before she knows it she’s in love, and Hardy seems to reciprocate her feelings. They become engaged but Hardy asks her to keep it secret for the moment until he can find steady work. He then returns to New South Wales to find work. Not long afterwards Maggie finds out that she’s pregnant. She writes several times to Hardy but he doesn’t answer her letters. In the meantime, Maggie knows that she won’t be accepted by her own family, so she makes her way to Melbourne where she gets work in a Guest House. When baby Jacky is born, she arranges to go to a home for mothers and their newborns. Then she finally manages to track Hardy down. Bringing baby Jacky along, she goes to Hardy’s home. Instead of greeting her warmly, Hardy insists that she’s crazy and won’t admit that Jacky is his son. When it finally hits Maggie that Hardy has no intention of marrying her and never really did, she leaves but she has nowhere else to go really. In fact, she’s turned away from six lodging places. That’s when the tragedy with Jacky occurs. Is Jack Hardy that accomplished a liar? Or did he really believe his own lies? It’s an interesting question…

In A.S.A. Harrison’s The Silent Wife, we meet Jodi Brett and Todd Gilbert. They’re successful Chicago professionals who’ve been in a relationship for twenty years. Then, Todd has an affair with a university student Natasha Kovacs, who is also the daughter of his longtime friend Dean Kovacs. Todd has been unfaithful before, but this time, Natasha gets pregnant. She wants to get married and be a family, and Todd promises that’s what he wants too. He even arranges with his lawyer to serve Jodi with eviction papers that will force her to leave the home they’ve shared. As Jodi’s life falls apart, she becomes desperate. Then, Todd is murdered and everything changes. The novel is told from both Jodi’s and Todd’s perspectives. And it’s really interesting to see how Harrison uses that to show how Todd lies to both of the women in his life. Is he a malicious liar? Does he really believe the lies he tells? And Jodi isn’t perfect either. What about her lies? That question forms a layer of real interest in the story.

And then there’s Helen Fitzgerald’s The Cry. Joanna Lindsay and Alistair Robertson suffer the worst tragedy that any couple can – the loss of their nine-week-old son Noah. When Noah goes missing, the entire Australian media gets to work. First of course, the goal is to find Noah. But slowly, questions are raised about both parents, and soon enough, people begin to wonder whether the truth about Noah is much darker than anyone thought. This story is told from Joanna’s perspective and from the perspective of Alistair’s former wife Alexandra, and as it unfolds, we see that it’s much more complex than it seems on the surface. There are several layers of lies here, and what’s interesting is that sometimes, it almost seems as though the people who are lying actually believe those lies. Or do they? I can’t say a lot more without spoiling the story, but it’s a fascinating study of people’s ability to lie.

There really are people who become so good at telling lies that they almost seem to convince themselves. Certainly they are good at using lies to manipulate others. These are just a few examples. Your turn.



*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Tim Hardin’s Reason to Believe, made perhaps most famous by Rod Stewart.


Filed under A.S.A. Harrison, Agatha Christie, Dashiell Hammett, Erle Stanley Gardner, Helen Fitzgerald, Wendy James

All I Need is a TV Show*

An interesting post from Sergio at Tipping My Fedora has got me thinking about happens when fictional characters are brought to television and film. Most people will say that because film is a different medium, stories and characters have to be adapted and that means there have to be differences between the original story and the television or film version. And that makes sense. Film of any kind has a visual impact and sometimes an audible one and that’s bound to affect the way one experiences a story. But what happens when a character (especially the protagonist) is substantially changed in a film or television adaptation? What happens when other characters are eliminated or changed, or when events happen very differently in the adaptation? Some folks are purists; they like their adaptations to be as similar to the book as possible and they get very cranky if the adaptation isn’t pretty nearly identical to the original. Other folks see it as a matter of telling two different stories. There doesn’t need to be much similarity between the book and the adaptation because it’s like the proverbial apples/oranges comparison. Others would rather watch made-for-television series than adapted series because of the frequent differences between the two. For still others, certain differences are fine but others aren’t. There are far too many adaptations out there for me to mention them all, so I probably won’t mention the ones you like the best. But here are a few examples to show what I mean.

There’ve been many, many adaptations of Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories. The television series starring Jeremy Brett as Holmes and (for much of the series) Edward Hardwicke as Watson is usually regarded as the most faithful to the original stories. There were some changes in plot points and some of the characters, especially in the series’ later years. But in general, the context, the major characters and so on are very much taken from the stories.

That hasn’t been the case with all of the Holmes screen adaptations. There’s now even an American series called Elementary in which a modern-day Holmes moves to Brooklyn after a stint in a drug rehabilitation program. His associate in this series is Dr. Joan Watson, a former surgeon who lost her license and has been hired to be Holmes’ sober live-in companion who’s there to help make sure he stays drug-free. Speaking for myself, I think Jeremy Brett’s portrayal of Holmes is the closest I’ve seen to what the books portray and to be honest, I like that. But many, many people like to have those classic stories updated; hence the positive reviews for the modern-day series starring Benedict Cumberbatch as Holmes. For those folks, the fact that the series is well-planned, well-acted and so on matters more than does the fact that it’s not completely faithful to the original. And they like the modern-day feel of the series.

Sergio’s post focuses on another classic fictional sleuth Perry Mason. Among other things, he makes the point that the literary Mason comes across as somewhat hardboiled and even a little scruffy at times. The filmed Mason though is almost dapper in his bearing and less hard-edged. I’ve noticed that about the U.S. series featuring Raymond Burr too. One thing the television series and the novels share is an emphasis on Mason’s courtroom skills. He knows the law very, very well and that comes through in both the original stories and the television series. I’m less familiar with the films than Sergio is, so I will defer to his judgement that the courtroom aspect of Mason’s work is less a factor in the films. Many people prefer less emphasis on courtroom scenes and the twists and turns of the law, as they’re more interested in other aspects of Mason’s way of solving cases. And their vision of what a lawyer ought to be is less hardboiled than we see in the Erle Stanley Gardner novels. But others like those courtroom scenes and find the legal aspects of Mason’s cases to be really interesting.

And then there’s Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot. Again, there’ve been lots of adaptations of the Poirot stories, so space won’t permit me to mention all of them. The Poirot series starring David Suchet in the title role is, in some cases, fairly close to the original stories. And in my opinion (so please feel free to disagree with me if you do), Suchet is Poirot in terms of mannerisms, outlook, bearing and so on. But in several of the stories there are major departures from the original books. For instance After the Funeral (AKA Funerals are Fatal) tells the story of the Abernethie family and what happens when patriarch Richard Abernethie suddenly dies. Shortly after that death, Abernethie’s younger sister Cora is murdered. The television adaptation of this novel portrays the Abernethie family very differently from what we see in the novel. Several of the characters have different relationships to each other and their personalities are also quite different. There are several differences in plot points too. If you’ve watched Poirot episodes then you could probably name lots of other examples of that sort of departure from the original. For some people that’s not a problem; they like Suchet’s portrayal of Poirot and the differences in character, plot and so on don’t bother them so long as the story is engaging. For other people the stories stray very much too far from the original and lose what to them are essential parts of the story.

Colin Dexter was closely involved with the adaptation of his Inspector Morse series for television, so it makes sense that those episodes capture the essence of his novels and (again, this is just my opinion) John Thaw was Inspector Morse. In fact, Dexter fans will know that The Jewel That Was Ours was actually a book adaptation of the Morse episode called The Wolvercote Tongue. In that series, there are some departures from the original novels, but arguably fewer than there are in series where the author isn’t as closely involved in the creation of the television adaptation.

There’ve been several more recent adaptations of novels and series. For instance, Peter Temple’s Jack Irish series has been brought to television and features Guy Pearce in the leading role. I admit I’ve not watched that yet as it’s not (yet) available where I live. But sources I trust tell me that it’s a faithful adaptation and captures what makes the print series so well-regarded. I very much look forward to seeing this if/when I can.

Another more recent series based on novels (at least, recent for English-speaking audiences) is Montalbano, which is based on Andrea Camilleri’s highly-regarded series. That television adaptation stays quite true to the original stories, although there are of course some differences. The characters of Salvo Montalbano, Sergeant Catarella and Livia Burlando, among others, are very much the characters depicted in the novels. And those for whom the Sicilian setting is a major attraction may particularly enjoy the adaptation because the series is filmed in Sicily so the physical setting is a major part of it.

There’s also Vera, the adaptation of Ann Cleeves’ well-regarded series featuring Yorkshire DCI Vera Stanhope. This series features Brenda Blethyn, and (here we go with my opinion again…), she captures the Vera Stanhope character quite authentically. In fact, Cleeves has said she’s delighted with Blethyn as Stanhope, so in the sense of protagonist, this series is quite faithful to the novels. The stories are filmed in Northumberland so readers who enjoy the novels’ sense of place get the added benefit of seeing the physical setting of the stories in the adaptation. There are differences in the storyline of the adaptations, but they don’t depart really significantly from the novels.

There’ve been lots of other adaptations that space doesn’t permit me to discuss here (I know, I know, fans of Dalziel and Pascoe and Midsomer Murders…). Some are very faithful to the original novels; some are not. Does it matter to you whether a series is faithful to its source? How much does a series have to depart from the novel before it’s too much for you? If you’re a writer, what’s your take on this? Would you want your stories meticulously adapted? Or do you see a lot of room for flexibility?

Want more on this topic of adapting novels? Sure ya do! Please check out Book vs Adaptation, a really interesting feature by Bernadette at Reactions to Reading. Want more about crime fiction films? Check out Sergio’s Tipping My Fedora.



*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Genesis’ Turn it on Again.


Filed under Agatha Christie, Andrea Camilleri, Ann Cleeves, Arthur Conan Doyle, Colin Dexter, Erle Stanley Gardner, Peter Temple

Nowhere to Look But Inside*

We all have our weak points, “sore spots” and let’s just say imperfections. Well, at least I hope I’m not the only one! Most of us find ways to compensate for them and sometimes hide from them. For instance, someone who’s never had to earn a living and make ends meet might have real difficulty surviving in “the real world.” That person may deal with that by choosing a wealthy partner, so avoiding any need to face that challenge. But we really learn a lot about our own characters and our own capacities when we’re forced to confront ourselves. In real life those experiences can help us grow. In crime fiction they can add a real layer of suspense to a novel and an interesting facet to a character or group of characters.

For example, in Agatha Christie’s Taken at the Flood (AKA There is a Tide) we meet the members of the Cloade family. Family patriarch Gordon Cloade has always taken care of his siblings and their children, and in fact he made it clear to his brothers Jeremy and Lionel and his sister Adela that they would never have to worry about money. So they didn’t. Then something happens that no-one had imagined: Gordon Cloade marries twenty-six-year-old widow Rosaleen Underhay. Before he gets the chance to change his will to protect the rest of his family Cloade is tragically killed by a bomb blast. Now Rosaleen stands to inherit everything and the Cloades have to consider what they will do without the wealth they’d always assumed. The family is reeling from this when a stranger calling himself Enoch Arden comes to town. He hints that Rosaleen might not have been a widow at the time of her marriage. If her husband was in fact still alive, her marriage to Cloade wasn’t legitimate and Cloade’s family will be financially safe. So everyone has a stake in finding out whether there is any truth to what Arden says. Then one night, Arden is killed. Hercule Poirot has already heard of Rosaleen Underhay from a member of his club, and he interests himself in Arden’s death. In the end we find out who Enoch Arden was and who killed him. Throughout this novel we see the various members of the Cloade family forced to confront their dependence on easy money. It’s fascinating to see how each of them reacts to that.

Erle Stanley Gardner’s The Case of the Velvet Claws introduces us Eva Griffin, who seeks out Perry Mason when she becomes the victim of a blackmailer. Griffin was at dinner with a “friend” up-and-coming politician Harrison Burke when the restaurant was held up. Gossip tabloid reporter Frank Locke found out about this relationship and has threatened to report the story in his paper Spicy Bits unless Eva Griffin pays him. Griffin wants Mason to stop Locke and he agrees to track the reporter down and try to convince him not to go ahead with his blackmail plan. In taking on Griffin as a client Mason takes on more than he’d imagined. In the first place, as Mason soon discovers, Griffin isn’t very honest. She doesn’t even give Mason her real surname, which is Belter. What’s more, she has a habit of constantly lying, so that it’s hard to tell whether anything she says is the truth. Then one night Mason gets a frantic call from his client. Her husband George has been murdered and she soon becomes the most likely suspect. In trying to clear his client’s name, Mason forces her to confront the fact that she’s a manipulative liar. And in fact it’s interesting to see how the dynamic between them develops as she continues to lie to him and he continues to call her on it, even while he’s trying to save her by finding out who really killed her husband.

Megan Abbott’s Die a Little is the story of Pasadena schoolteacher Lora King. She’s always been particularly close to her brother Bill so when he announces that he’s getting married she wants very much to be happy for him. But Bill has chosen former Hollywood wardrobe assistant Alice Steele, and from the moment they meet Lora doesn’t care much for her. Alice has what used to be called a checkered past, and she still has some associations with people who aren’t exactly pillars of the community. But for Bill’s sake Lora tries to get along with her new sister-in-law. Bit by bit though, she discovers disturbing things about Alice. For example, Alice claims that she’s got a teaching certificate, but Lora finds out that’s not true. There are other things too that don’t add up, so Lora decides to do a little digging. Then there’s a murder. Lora begins to wonder whether Alice might somehow have been involved, since the victim was someone Alice knew. So she starts to look into the case and ask questions. The more Lora learns about Alice’s life, the more she has to confront her own. On the surface, she’s a quiet, respectable schoolteacher and that’s how she’s always seen herself. But Lora finds herself just as fascinated by Alice’s life and her friends as she is repelled by them and one theme of this novel is Lora’s growing realisation of that. And in the end, readers are left to wonder just how successful that confrontation really was.

Shona MacLean’s Scottish teacher Alexander Seaton has been running from himself for quite a while as we learn in The Redemption of Alexander Seaton. At one point he was a very promising candidate for the ministry. His career ended in disgrace because of his relationship with his best friend’s sister Katharine Hays. In the 17th Century world in which Seaton lives, that relationship was enough to keep him from ever getting a pulpit. To make matters worse, he treated Katharine very badly after their relationship was discovered. Seaton has buried himself in his teaching work and done his best to escape what happened. Everything changes when local apothecary’s apprentice Patrick Davidson is poisoned. Seaton’s friend local music master Charles Thom is accused of the murder but Thom swears he’s innocent and begs Seaton to clear his name. Seaton agrees and begins to look into the murder. In doing so, he’s forced to confront his own failings as well as his refusal to let go of the past. Seaton is also forced to confront his unwillingness to interact with the locals, whom he is convinced hate him as much as he hates himself. Seaton finds out who Davidson’s killer is and also re-discovers himself.

Katherine Howell’s Violent Exposure tells several stories of being forced to confront oneself. In that novel Sydney paramedic Carly Martens and her trainee Aidan Simpson are called to what seems like a basic domestic dispute between Connor and Suzanne Crawford. The next night, Suzanne is brutally murdered and Connor goes missing.  Detective Ella Marconi and her partner Dennis Orchard are assigned the case, which looks at first like a tragic case of domestic violence gone horribly wrong. But it’s soon clear that it’s not that simple at all. For instance, background checks on Connor Crawford show nothing. And it soon comes out that he was keeping a secret from his wife that she was desperate to learn. Then Emil Page, a teenage volunteer at the Crawfords’ nursery business, goes missing too. As this case goes on, several of the characters have to confront themselves. For instance Aidan Simpson is not at all a success as a trainee. He’s arrogant, smug, and inept when it comes to a real paramedic case. He’s habitually late, he’s rude and more. Several people have tried to help him but he’s ignored everyone. In the course of this case Simpson is forced to confront his own lack of knowledge and his own weaknesses. That process is an interesting sub-plot in this novel.

When we are forced to confront ourselves, we learn what we’re really made of and as painful as that can be it can help us grow too. It can also add “flesh” to characters and suspense and tension to a fictional plot.



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


Filed under Agatha Christie, Erle Stanley Gardner, Katherine Howell, Megan Abbott, Shona MacLean

Los Angelenos All Come From Somewhere*

If you’ve ever been to Los Angeles then you know that it’s vibrant, beautiful (in some places), and has one of the most inviting climates anywhere. It’s physically gorgeous, it’s home to some of the wealthiest people in the U.S., it’s got world-class restaurants and fashion houses and of course, it’s home to the U.S. television and film industries. The music industry is a giant there, too. It’s also got desperate poverty, and the terrible economic and racial divisions that continue to plague the nation have played themselves out there. And with the city’s incredible wealth has also come some really deep-seated corruption, exploitation and more. With those factors, it’s not surprising at all that Los Angeles is the setting for an awful lot of crime fiction. One post doesn’t give nearly enough space to talk about all of the Los Angeles-based crime fiction out there, so here are just a few examples.

Beginning with The Big Sleep, Raymond Chandler’s iconic Philip Marlowe showed readers the seamier side of the wealthy and powerful of Los Angeles. In that novel, Marlowe is hired by General Guy Sternwood to stop a blackmail attempt. It seems that bookseller Arthur Geiger is blackmailing Sternwood’s daughter Carmen; this isn’t the first time Carmen’s been blackmailed either as she’s not exactly a demure young woman. What starts as a simple investigation of a blackmail scheme ends up dragging Marlowe into a very complicated web of backstabbing, a pornography scandal and exploitation. Chandler’s work helped shape the modern “hard-boiled” novel and the wealth, self-entitlement and shallowness of several of the characters in this novel are a good match for the setting and the sub-genre.

Attempted blackmail is the starting point for The Case of the Velvet Claws which features another Los Angeles sleuth, Erle Stanley Gardner’s Perry Mason. Mason is a Los Angeles attorney who is absolutely and completely committed to his clients. He finds that commitment hard to keep though when he is hired by Eva Griffin. Griffin tells Mason that Hollywood tabloid reporter Fank Locke has proof that she’s having an affair with up-and-coming politician Hamilton Burke. If Griffin doesn’t pay up, Locke will publish the story in his tabloid Spicy Bits. Mason agrees to take this case and tries to get Locke to stop blackmailing his client. Things get complicated though when Mason finds out that Locke’s boss – and Griffin’s husband – is George Belter, owner of Spicy Bits. Now Mason realises that Griffin hasn’t been telling him everything, not even her real name. Then one night George Belter is shot. His widow is of course a prime suspect, and Mason continues to represent her interests even though he doesn’t trust anything she says. He’ll have to find out the truth about Belter’s murder, despite his client, if he’s going to clear her of murder.

Several of Ellery Queen’s novels are set in Los Angeles too. In fact, The Devil to Pay, The Four of Hearts and The Origin of Evil are sometimes called The Hollywood Murders because of their setting. The storyline for these novels is that Queen has been hired to work as a screenwriter for Hollywood “wonder boy” Jacques Butcher. He’s not given anything to do though and is bored, restless and increasingly frustrated with Butcher. So he’s willing to help out when in The Devil to Pay, Walter Spaeth asks him to serve as proxy at an auction of the personal property of Rhys Jardin. Jardin is the father of Spaeth’s love interest Valerie Jardin, and Spaeth wants to do what he can to take care of her without embarrassing her.  When Spaeth’s successful father and Jardin’s business partner Solly Spaeth is murdered, the Jardin family is under suspicion and so is Spaeth’s mistress Winnie Moon. In the end, Queen figures out who the murderer is, while still waiting to start work as a screenwriter. He gets his chance in The Four of Hearts, and gets involved once again in murder when the two lead actors of the film he’s screenwriting are murdered. In The Origin of Evil, Queen’s no longer working as a screenwriter; he’s taken a house and some quiet time to write. That’s how he gets involved in the death of Leander Hill, co-owner of a successful jewel business. Hill’s daughter Lauren believes that her father was murdered and that his business partner Roger Priam may be the next victim. Queen finds out this case has everything to do with the business partners’ history.

We get quite another view of Los Angeles through the eyes of Walter Mosley’s Ezekiel “Easy” Rawlins. Rawlins was laid off from his wartime job at an airplane manufacturing plant. With no source of income, he accepts an offer in Devil in a Blue Dress to help find Daphne Monet, the missing girlfriend of DeWitt Albright. Albright knows that he’ll stand out too much as a white man in the black community of Watts, where Rawlins lives. But Rawlins knows everyone in that community and agrees to start asking questions. That’s how he gets involved in his new career of “doing favours for friends.” This series gives readers a vivid portrait of life in Watts during the postwar years and a look at Los Angeles from a different cultural perspective.

Megan Abbott’s Die A Little, which takes place at about the same time, shows us what life was like in the Los Angeles/Hollywood suburbs of the early 1950’s. In that novel, Pasadena schoolteacher Lora King begins to worry when her brother Bill falls in love with and then marries former Hollywood dressmaker’s assistant Alice Steele. For Bill’s sake Lora tries to get along with her new sister-in-law. As she does so, she finds herself both put off by and drawn to Alice’s life.  And the more drawn to Alice she is, the more King learns about the seamier side of Hollywood, including drugs, prostitution and physical abuse. Then there’s a death that could very well have involved Alice. Now, King decides to go even more deeply into Alice’s enigmatic life to find out what really happened, telling herself that she wants to protect her brother.

So what’s today’s Los Angeles like? Just ask Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch and Mickey Haller. Bosch is a cop who’s been with the L.A.P.D. on and off for a long time. Bosch’s half-brother Haller’s a defense attorney who’s been known to use his car as a “traveling office.” In the novels that feature these sleuths we see all of the sides of this complex city. We also see some of the trends and changes that have affected people’s lives. The two sleuths investigate mortgage fraud, poverty, racism, child pornography, police and civil corruption, drug trafficking, gang activity, and of course, the film industry among many other things. Neither sleuth would really be happy anywhere else, but neither is blind to the city’s many problems. Oh, and these novels also include natural disasters that Los Angelenos have to cope with such as earthquakes, wildfires and mudslides.

You can also ask Robert Crais’ Elvis Cole and Joe Pike what today’s Los Angeles is like. Together they’ve investigated spoiled Hollywood directors, “behind the scenes” television and film power brokers, the drug and prostitution scenes, Japanese mafiosos and police corruption among other things. Pike owns a gun shop where he’s seen more than his share of gun trafficking and gang activity. Cole’s been hired by all sorts of clients so he too has seen all sides of Los Angeles. And let’s face it; only in L.A. would a detective who has a Mickey Mouse clock in his office be taken seriously.  ;-)

There are other authors such as Stephen J. Cannell, Daniel Depp (yes, Johnny Depp’s brother), Marshall Karp and Pamela DuMond who’ve shown us the ups and downs, the funny and tragic, the beautiful and the ugly sides of Los Angeles. It’s far too big, complex and diverse a city for one author to tell it all.


City of Angels? Um…..not really ;-)


ps. The top ‘photo is of just one street in just one part of Los Angeles. The other ‘photo was taken on Hollywood Boulevard, on the Walk of Fame. Oh, now come on! Do you have to wonder whose star I would actually make the effort to find and photograph? ;-)



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


Filed under Daniel Depp, Ellery Queen, Erle Stanley Gardner, Marshall Karp, Megan Abbott, Michael Connelly, Pamela DuMond, Raymond Chandler, Robert Crais, Stephen J. Cannell, Walter Mosley