A Musical Salute ;-)

Today (or tomorrow, depending on when you read this), we’re celebrating Independence Day in the U.S.. This year I’ve thought of a different sort of way to observe the occasion. I hope you enjoy
 

 

I wish a happy and safe Independence Day to my U.S. readers!

But Ev’ryone Knew Her As Nancy*

Many people acquire different kinds of nicknames. I don’t mean shortened forms of names, such as “Jo” for “Johanna.” I mean completely different names. Sometimes people get nicknames because of a particular incident. Sometimes it’s because of something about their appearance (e.g. calling someone with red hair “Red.”). I had an acquaintance at university whose surname was Campbell but whom we always called “Soup” after the famous U.S. maker of soups. There are a lot of other examples, too. Some nicknames are flattering or at least neutral. Others….aren’t. It’s interesting though to see what kinds of nicknames we find in crime fiction. There are plenty of them too.

For instance, in Agatha Christie’s Three Act Tragedy (AKA Murder in Three Acts), we meet Hermione Lytton Gore. She’s gone by the nickname Egg since she was a toddler who kept falling over when she walked. Egg and her mother Lady Mary Lytton Gore are invited to a cocktail party one evening at the home of famous actor Sir Charles Cartwright. While they’re there, fellow guest Reverend Stephen Babbington suddenly dies of what turns out to be nicotine poisoning. The police begin their investigation but it doesn’t get very far before there’s another killing. This time the victim is well-known specialist Dr. Bartholomew Strange. Hercule Poirot attended the first gathering and when he hears of the second death, he gets actively involved in the investigation. Egg too gets involved in the investigation and in fact, she provides Poirot with a very important clue.

Reginald Hill created a crime fiction icon in the person of Superintendent Andy Dalziel. Dalziel is a larger-than-life kind of character who isn’t much of a one for social graces or diplomacy. He has no problems stepping on people’s proverbial toes as he investigates, and that includes his treatment of his partner Peter Pascoe. Dalziel is fond of his pint and his food, and he’s a big person as it is. So it’s not really shocking that his nickname is “The Fat Man.” Interestingly enough, though, the nickname is almost as much an homage as it is anything else. Few people who work with Dalziel forget him easily and not many people are neutral about him.

Another crime-fictional character whose nickname refers to his size is Tarquin Hall’s Vishwas “Vish” Puri. Puri owns Delhi’s Most Private Investgiations, Ltd. and he and his team spend quite a lot of time doing background investigations for prospective in-laws. But sometimes their investigations get more interesting than that, as in The Case of the Missing Servant. In that novel, Puri and his team investigate the disappearance of Mary Murmu, who went missing from the Kasliwal residence and was presumed killed. When Ajay Kasliwal is accused and then arrested for the crime, he depends on Puri and his team to find the real truth. Puri is quite fond of food, especially food that’s not good for him. His wife Rumpi and his mother both call him Chubby for that reason, and so do his friends. On Puri’s team is Flush, so called because his was the first family in his village to have an indoor bathroom. There’s also Handbrake, Puri’s driver, and Facecream, the only female member of the team. Oh, and there’s the office boy Doorstop, so called because he does as little as possible.

James Lee Burke’s Dave Robicheaux also has a nickname based on his appearance, but it’s not because of his weight. As a younger man, Robicheaux has very dark hair except for one streak of light hair on the side. That piece of hair is the reason that, especially in the first novels such as Black Cherry Blues, Robicheaux’s often called Streak. Later, when he’s got more grey than black hair, the nickname doesn’t seem quite as appropriate but the name has stuck.

Janet Evanovich’s bounty hunter sleuth Stephanie Plum probably wishes that she had a cool nickname like Streak. Unfortunately, she doesn’t. Courtesy of her on-again/off-again lover police officer Joe Morelli, she is sometimes called Cupcake. The two have known each other since they were children, but each has had other romances along the way. Plum’s got nicknames for Morelli, too, one of which is Officer Hottie. Plum’s partner in many of her bounty hunting cases is Ricardo Carlos Maños, but he’s always called Ranger. Ranger is an enigmatic character who doesn’t have a lot to say about his background. We do know though that he was in the U.S. Special Forces. Since one of those groups is called the Rangers, it’s a good bet that’s where Ranger got his nickname.

Ian Rankin’s John Rebus was given his unusual nickname by his nemesis Morris Gerald “Big Ger” Cafferty. Cafferty is an Edinburgh crime boss who throughout the course of the Rebus novels gets involved in more than one of Rebus’ cases. The two men don’t trust each other but sometimes they have to work together and both of them know it’s in each one’s interest to do so. Years ago, Cafferty was on trial and Rebus was scheduled to testify. However, one of the lawyers confused Rebus with the previous witness in the trial, a man named Stroman. Since then, the name “Strawman” has been Cafferty’s way of mocking Rebus. As the series goes on, Rebus seems to mind the name less and less. Now and then, we even see the grudging respect these two opponents have for each other.

And then there’s Rita Mae Brown’s series featuring the former postmistress of tiny Crozet, Virginia. Her name, Mary Minor Haristeen, is often shortened to Harry. One of the “regulars” in this series is Crozet resident Olivia Craycroft. In the first novel Wish You Were Here, Craycroft’s husband Kelly is murdered in what looks at first like a terrible accident at the construction company he owns. But when his death is connected to others, Harry becomes certain that something larger is going on in town and she’s proven right. In that novel, we also learn that Olivia Craycroft’s nickname is “Boom Boom,” or “Boom,” a name she got because of her generous figure and her habit of flaunting it. Boom and Harry have an interesting history together. It’s in part because Harry’s husband had an affair with Boom that they got divorced. As the series moves on, all three characters cope with the realities of an affair, a divorce, and moving on in a small town where everyone knows everyone’s business. That story arc adds interest for those readers who’ve followed through the whole series.

Anthony Bidulka’s sleuth is Saskatoon private investigator Russell Quant. Quant’s content not to be a smash-‘em-up “he man” kind of hero. But he does like to be taken seriously as a professional. That’s not an easy achievement when your nickname is Puppy. Quant got that nickname from his mentor, clothing entrepreneur Anthony Gatt. Gatt and Quant’s uncle were partners for several years before Quant’s uncle died, so Quant’s grown up, you might say, with Gatt. Gatt proves helpful in several of the mysteries. He seems to know everyone and he has all sorts of connections that Quant finds useful. He also takes care of Quant and gives him good advice. He’s one of the few people Quant defers to, and the only one who gets to call him Puppy.

There are other examples of interesting nicknames in crime fiction. Sometimes nicknames are meant as insults, but often they end up being part of a bond between people. And in crime fiction, they can also be an interesting part of a character’s backstory.

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from The Beatles’ Rocky Raccoon.

Tradin’ My Time For the Pay I Get, Livin’ on Money That I Ain’t Made Yet*

Today would have been Charles Dickens’ 200^th birthday. An interesting factoid, but why bring it up on this crime-fictional blog? There are a few reasons. One is that Dickens arguably could be called a crime writer. Want more on this compelling point? You can check out an interesting post on the topic from Kerrie at Mysteries in Paradise. The other reason I mention Dickens here is that he was one of the first well-known authors to really explore the lives of people who weren’t rich, titled or “well-born.” Dickens showed readers the lives of those in the working and lower classes – even the slums. In a way, one could argue that it was Dickens’ work that in part made it acceptable for modern crime writers to write about the working class and those who struggle for a living.

We see some exploration of the working and lower classes in some of Agatha Christie’s novels. For instance, in Dead Man’s Folly, mystery novelist Ariadne Oliver is commissioned to create a Murder Hunt (akin to a scavenger hunt) for an upcoming fête at Nasse House, the property of Sir George and Lady Hattie Stubbs. Oliver accepts the commission and travels to Nasse House, but when she arrives, she begins to sense that something is wrong; there’s something more going on here than a simple fête. So she asks Hercule Poirot to join her at Nasse House and investigate. He agrees and goes under the pretext of giving out the prizes for the Murder Hunt. Oliver’s suspicions are justified when on the day of the fête, there’s a murder. Fourteen-year-old Marlene Tucker, who played the part of the “victim” in the Murder Hunt, is actually strangled. Poirot works with Inspector Bland to find out who would have wanted to kill a seemingly harmless girl from a working-class family. It turns out that Marlene had found out more than it was safe for her to know about someone at the fête and that’s why she was killed. In the process of investigating, Poirot gets to know the Tucker family and we get a look at a working-class home.

John D. MacDonald’s Travis McGee novels often show us the lives of the “down-and-out” and the working class. McGee calls himself a “salvage consultant.” He earns a living by helping people recover what’s been taken from them. He keeps a percentage of the proceeds as his fee. In that capacity he meets more than one “down and out” character. For example, in The Deep Blue Goodbye he takes the case of Catherine Kerr, who has something very valuable stolen from her and exploited by a lover. In that novel we meet Kerr and her sister, both members of the working class who are just trying to get by. It’s worth noting that in this novel and several other Travis McGee novels, the lower- and working-class characters we meet are quite often drawn with quite a lot of pride and dignity. Poor they may be; groveling they are not.

Margaret Yorke also explores the lives of working-class and sometimes lower-class people. For instance, in Speak for the Dead, we follow the life of Carrie Foster, who’s been raised in a working-class home. She gets a job in a shop, but she has a taste for adventure and like a lot of people, she wants material things, too. So she takes up life as a call girl. Her “clients” tend to be educated members of the “better” classes, and she’s not doing badly. Then one day she meets Gordon Matthews, whom she doesn’t know has recently been released from prison for murdering his wife Anne Randall. The two get along and before too much time, they’ve married. At first, Carrie thinks she’s “made it,” as Gordon seems to be doing well for himself. Within a few years, though, she realises that Gordon isn’t the man she’d thought she married. Bored, restless, and tired of her husband’s inability to keep a job, Carrie returns to her old occupation without telling Gordon. As the novel evolves, we see how Gordon and Carrie have deceived each other and how this ends up leading to tragedy.

Ian Rankin’s Inspector Rebus, himself a member of the working class, often works with the “down and out” and lower- and working-class people as he solves his cases. In fact some them involve members of those classes. For instance, in Black and Blue, he investigates, among other cases, the murder of Allen Mitchison, an oilman who works for T-Bird Oil out of Aberdeen. Mitchison was left an orphan early in his life and grew up mostly in children’s homes and foster care. He saw a video about North Shore oil rig work and got interested, and that work led to his chance to earn a decent living. It also leads to his murder. As Rebus looks into Mitchison’s life to see why he would have been killed, we meet plenty of other people for whom it’s considered a “step up” to be able to afford a mortgage on a home.

Denise Mina’s Garnethill trilogy focuses on the lives of working- and lower-class people as well. Beginning with Garnethill, the novels follow the life of ticket-taker and later women’s shelter worker Maureen “Mauri” O’Donnell. In Garnethill, she wakes up one morning after a long night of drinking to find that her former lover Douglas Brody has been murdered in her apartment and his body left behind. She’s the most likely suspect, so detective Joe McEwan is convinced she’s guilty. To clear her name, O’Donnell begins to ask questions and investigate in her own way. With help from her brother Liam and some friends, O’Donnell finds out the truth about Brady’s murder. In Exile, she meets Ann Harris, a client at the women’s shelter where she now works. Unexpectedly, though, Harris disappears and turns up dead two weeks later in London. O’Donnell wants to find out what happened to Harris, why she left and of course, why she died. And in Resolution, she looks into the case of Ella McGee, who sells bootlegged music at a market stall. When McGee is beaten up, she asks O’Donnell, whom she knows from the market, to help her fill out a complaint form – against her own son. In all of these novels, the characters are painted in stark and unflinching, but strong and even dignified ways.

There are also many, many fictional sleuths who are members of the working class and lower class. For instance, Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum has working-class roots. So does Sara Paretsky’s V.I. Warshawski and so does Colin Dexter’s Sergeant Lewis.

The lives of lower- and working-class people are arguably portrayed in much more depth and given much more attention than they have been in the past. Murders in those communities are given attention – at least in crime fiction – that they arguably wouldn’t have been given without the groundbreaking work of Charles Dickens. And for that and much more, crime fiction fans and authors owe him a debt.

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from The Vogues’ Five O’Clock World.

Get a Haircut and Get a Real Job*

Let’s face it; sleuthing isn’t safe or easy. It can be dirty, ugly, traumatic and extremely dangerous. It’s little wonder, then, that sleuths often get pressure from their friends, relations and colleagues not to get (or stay) in the business. That pressure can add an interesting wrinkle to a crime fiction story or series. It’s realistic (I’m sure we’ve all been given career advice at some point or other; I know I have). It’s also a source of interesting conflict in a story and that pressure can be used as a layer of interest, a sub-plot or story-across-stories, or even a major plot point of a novel.

For example, in Agatha Christie’s The Murder at the Vicarage, we are introduced to Miss Jane Marple, who lives in the village of St. Mary Mead. She’s getting on in years and is absorbed in her garden, church activities and village life. When the very unpleasant Colonel Protheroe is shot while he’s visiting the local vicarage, it’s believed at first that this case is police business. That’s certainly what Inspector Slack feels as he begins the investigation. He is not interested in any input from an elderly spinster who should be focusing on her garden. Some of the other villagers, including vicar’s wife Griselda Clement, also think that Miss Marple should, to put it bluntly, mind her own business. But Miss Marple has a lot of experience in human nature and beneath her mild-mannered exterior she’s a keen observer with a sharp mind. Her input and her knowledge of the village prove instrumental in catching Protheroe’s murderer. Miss Marple gets pressure in other novels, too, not to push herself, not to go out investigating and so on, but fortunately for the law-abiding residents of St. Mary Mead, she doesn’t succumb to that pressure.

In a similar way, Elizabeth Spann Craig’s Myrtle Clover gets pressure from her son Red not to investigate. Red is the Chief of Police in Bradley, North Carolina and he would rather that his mother leave police work to him and his team. It’s not that he doesn’t respect his mother’s intelligence. He does. But he doesn’t want her getting into danger. Myrtle, though, is not exactly ready to be “put out to pasture.” A retired schoolteacher, she’s got far too much energy and intelligence to spend her days knitting and watching her favourite soap opera Tomorrow’s Promise. So in Pretty is as Pretty Dies, when the body of malicious real estate developer Parke Stockard is found in a local church, Myrtle determines to find out who the killer is. Red tries his best to discourage her from getting involved in the case. In fact, he even arranges a “wild goose chase” to keep his mother out of trouble while he investigates. But that doesn’t stop Myrtle from getting to the truth of the matter and in the end, she finds out who the killer is. She also manages to let Red know exactly what she thinks of his attempts to manage her life. Ceramic gnomes are involved. That conflict between Red and his mother adds an interesting layer to this story. Oh, and speaking of Myrtle Clover… I’m very excited that Elizabeth has just released the next Myrtle Clover mystery Progressive Dinner Deadly. I’m very excited to read it!!

Tony Hillerman’s Jim Chee also gets pressure about the career choice he’s made. He’s a member of the Navajo Nation and of the Navajo Tribal Police. In the early novels that feature him, Chee’s girlfriend is Mary Landon, a White teacher who’s originally from Wisconsin. They love each other but Mary wants a life much more like the life she had in Wisconsin. During the course of their relationship, Chee gets more than one opportunity to take a different job – one that would involve him leaving the Reservation. There’s a certain amount of pressure on him to do so, too, since he loves Mary. In the end, though, both realise that Chee wouldn’t be Chee if he left the Reservation and his work with the Navajo Tribal Police. That’s part of the reason their relationship ends. Interestingly, there’s a similar pressure when Chee meets Janet Pete, a half-Navajo attorney who works with Chee as a part of some cases she’s defending. The two begin a relationship but Pete discovers that she doesn’t really fit in on the Reservation. Chee considers other work, including working in Washington with the Bureau of Indian Affairs. But he is too much a part of the Reservation to change careers. What’s interesting in this series is that some of the pressure not to be a part of the Navajo Tribal Police comes from Chee himself. He reflects quite often on his choice.

Henning Mankell’s police detective Kurt Wallander gets pressure, too, about his career. His father is an artist and craftsman who didn’t want Wallander to join the police, although he’s never clear about exactly why. He complains when Wallander doesn’t visit him, and is testy with him when he does. He takes every opportunity to make remarks about Wallander’s career, not seeming to realise how hard that rejection is on his son. For his part, Wallender finds it hard to appreciate his father and his choices, too. Their troubled relationship makes for a fascinating story-across-stories in this series.

And then there’s Stephanie Plum, Janet Evanovich’s bounty-hunter sleuth. Plum began working at her cousin’s bail bond company when she was laid off from the department store where she worked. The job she took was supposed to be clerical work but instead, Plum found herself working in fugitive apprehension. Although her family is grateful she has a job, most of them are not exactly happy that she’s a bounty hunter. In fact, her mother reminds her that “they’re always hiring at the button factory.” The only member of Plum’s family who really supports her career is her eccentric grandmother, Grandma Mazur. The first few novels in this series give readers an interesting look at what it’s like to get started in “the sleuthing business” when one gets pressure not to do so.

Emily Tempest, Adrian Hyland’s sleuth, also gets considerable pressure not to be a detective. In Moonlight Downs (AKA Diamond Dove), she returns to her home in the Australian Outback after years away. Shortly after her arrival, she’s caught up in the investigation of the murder of Lincoln Flinders, leader of the local Aborigine community. Flinders was a dear friend and mentor, so Temple wants to find out what happened. She’s also close friends with Flinders’ daughter Hazel. So Tempest sets out to solve the crime. Partly as a result of that investigation, Tempest gets an offer to join the newly-established Aboriginal Community Police. She’ll be working with the local “regular” police, and what excites her most as Gunshot Road begins is that after a month working in Bluebush, she’ll be able to live and work in Moonlight Downs, her own community.  Hazel Flinders, though, isn’t sure this is a good idea. It’s not so much that she doesn’t think her friend can do the job, but she doesn’t trust the Bluebush police. So she puts some pressure on her friend to reconsider the idea. Tempest begins the job, though, and on the first day, gets involved in the investigation of the murder of Albert “Doc” Ozolins, a former prospector who seems to have been killed as the result of a drunken quarrel. Tempest doesn’t think that explanation answers all the questions, though, and begins to look deeper. Throughout Gunshot Road, she feels pressure not to do what she’s doing and at one point, she’s even viciously attacked. But that doesn’t stop her and at the end of the investigation, the reader gets the sense that she will settle into her work in Moonlight Downs. I’m looking forward to seeing what’s coming next for Emily Tempest…

There are many, many other examples of sleuths who get pressure from family and friends not to take on the job of investigating crime. I’ve only space here to mention a few. Which are your favourites? If you’re a writer, do you use the conflict element of “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

 

 

 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from George Thorogood and the Delaware Destroyers’ Haircut.

Yes, they really were called the Delaware Destroyers at first, although they’d changed their name to George Thorogood and the Destroyers by the time Get a Haircut was released.

I Count Every Penny and I Watch Where it Goes*

Most of us have money concerns at least every once in a while. It’s usually not because we’re greedy (although there are of course greedy people out there). It’s really because of what money represents to us – security. Let’s face it; in today’s world, money is necessary to meet even our most basic needs.  Without money, our sense of security is threatened and that can make people desperate, even if relatively small amounts of money are at stake. Desperate people do things they wouldn’t ordinarily do. So it’s not surprising that an urgent need for money can drive people to crime, both in real life and in crime fiction.

For example, in Agatha Christie’s Dumb Witness (AKA Poirot Loses a Client), wealthy Emily Arundell has a nearly-fatal fall down the stairs in her home. As she’s recovering, little pieces of evidence suggest to her that her fall was no accident. And that realisation doesn’t surprise her. She’s got two nieces and a nephew, all of whom are desperate for money. She doesn’t want to go to the police about the matter as the family’s reputation is at stake. So she writes a letter to Hercule Poirot asking him to look into the matter. By the time Poirot gets the letter, though, it’s too late; Miss Arundell has died of what seems at first to be liver failure. It’s not, though, as Poirot discovers once he begins to investigate. He and Captain Hastings travel to the village of Market Basing where they look into the lives of Miss Arundell’s relations and her companion Wilhelmina “Minnie” Lawson. They learn that, for different reasons, just about everyone in Miss Arundell’s life was frantic about money. That urgency – that sense of desperation – is what eventually drove the killer to strike.

We also see the true desperation that money problems can cause in Mickey Spillane’s The Big Kill. In that novel, Mike Hammer is in a seedy bar drowning his sorrows when a man and his toddler son come in. The man, who we later learn is William Decker, then has two drinks in quick succession, kisses his son and leaves the bar without the boy. As he leaves, he’s struck by a hit-and-run driver and then shot. Hammer rushes out of the bar but doesn’t get there in time to save Decker. He does, however, take the boy in and decides to find out why Decker was killed. Hammer soon discovers that Decker was a former safecracker who’d decided to “go straight,” mostly for the sake of his son. But he needed money. So, being at his wits’ end, Decker got mixed up in a robbery scheme with some unsavoury people. At first, it appears that he was killed because he’d bungled a job. It’s not as simple as that, though, as Hammer discovers. In this story, Decker’s need for money drives him to do things he had sworn he wouldn’t do.

In Robert Pollock’s Loophole or, How to Rob a Bank, Stephen Booker finds himself frantic about money. He’s an architect who loses his job and can’t find another. He finally gets a low-paying job as a night-shift cab driver, but it doesn’t come close to paying the bills. Then one day he meets Mike Daniels, a professional thief. Daniels is planning a major heist of the City Savings Deposit Bank and when he meets Booker, he realises that Booker has just the skills he needs for the job. At first, Booker demurs, but his money fears are so great that he falls in with the group’s plans. Together, the team members plot a robbery that will make all of them wealthy. One of the interesting things about this novel is the way Stephen Booker’s views of right and wrong change as the book goes on. His real need for money plays a very clear role in what he is and isn’t willing to do.

Donna Leon’s Blood From a Stone also addresses what happens when people become desperate for money. Commissario Guido Brunetti is called to the scene when an unidentified Senegalese immigrant is shot, execution-style, at an open-air market. No-one saw very much that’s helpful, but from the bits and pieces he’s able to learn, Brunetti finds out where the victim lived. When he and Ispettore Vianello search the dead man’s possessions, they’re shocked to find a hidden cache of valuable diamonds. The more they look into the matter, the clearer it becomes that the diamonds are “conflict diamonds,” traded for weapons used to arm rebels against African governments. As it turns out, the dead man was desperate enough for money that he risked his life for the diamonds and in the end, that’s why he was murdered.

In Alexander McCall Smith’s The Kalahari Typing School for Men, we meet Mr. Molefelo, a successful civil engineer. When he has a near-death experience, he suddenly realises how short life is, and wants to set a few things right. Years earlier, when he was a student, he boarded with the very kind and helpful Mma. Tsolamosese and her husband. At the time, he also had a girlfriend Tebogo Bathopi. When Tebogo told him she was pregnant, Mr. Molefelo refused to be responsible for the child. The only alternative was an abortion, which neither could afford. So, feeling that he had no choice, Mr. Molefelo stole a radio belonging to his hosts and sold it to pay for the abortion. Now, he deeply regrets both the theft and the way he treated Tebogo. So he asks Mma. Ramotswe to help him find both Mma. Tsolamosese aTebogo, as he wants to make amends. Mma. Ramotswe agrees and tracks down both women, allowing Mr. Melofelo the chance to make things right.

There are also, of course, plenty of sleuths whose money worries drive them to take cases or to get into the business in the first place. For instance, Walter Mosley’s Ezekiel “Easy” Rawlins gets into the sleuthing business in Devil With a Blue Dress when he loses his factory job and can’t pay his mortgage. Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum becomes a bounty hunter because she gets laid off from her department-store job and is worried about paying her rent and other bills. And Agatha Christie’s Tommy and Tuppence Beresford form the Young Adventurers Ltd. in The Secret Adversary because neither of them has a job and they need money. There are other examples, too.

Sometimes it doesn’t even take a huge amount of money to make a person desperate. Even worrying about smaller amounts of money for the basics like food, rent or mortgage, electricity and so on can be enough to drive one to do all sorts of things. It’s certainly true in real life and we see it in crime fiction, too. That makes sense, really. Not only is such a plot line realistic, but it can also add a very effective layer of tension. But what’s your view? Do you think the “desperate for money” theme is overdone?

 

 

 

*NOTE:  The title of this post is a line from the Kinks’ Low Budget.