Category Archives: Karin Alvtegen

Whatever Gets You Through Your Life*

RitualIt seems to be human nature that we want to impose some sort of order and structure in our worlds. We like to feel at least some sense of control over our lives, especially when things happen that are out of our control. One way in which people try to get and keep that control is through certain rituals. I don’t mean just religious rituals, although sometimes they’re used that way. Rather, I mean rituals we go through in our daily lives.

Some people develop personal rituals to help them cope with things that have happened, and it’s interesting to see how this plays out in crime fiction. After all, the genre’s full of murders, abductions and other horrible events that people have to deal with in one way or another. Here are just a few examples of what I mean.

In Agatha Christie’s Murder in Mesopotamia, noted archaeologist Eric Leidner hires a nurse Amy Leatheran to help his wife Loiuse cope with her fears and anxieties. The Leidners are on a dig a few hours from Baghdad, so Nurse Leatheran stays at the house the dig team is occupying. At first all goes as expected, although there are undercurrents of strain among the members of the party. There are also a few incidents where Louise Leidner hears unusual noises and sees an unknown face at her window. But that’s put down to her strain and fear, and things settle again. Then one afternoon, she is bludgeoned and her body found in her room. Hercule Poirot is in the area on other business and he’s persuaded to investigate. The story is told from Amy Leatheran’s point of view, and at one point, she goes through a sort of ritual to try to find out the killer’s identity. Although she’s not normally at all a fanciful person, she tells herself that if she goes into the victim’s room and lies on the bed in the same way, the door will open and the murderer will come in. Sure enough, when she does lie down on the bed, the door does open. I don’t think it’s spoiling the story to say that Nurse Leatheran isn’t murdered, but it’s an interesting look at how even the most pragmatic among us can have those rituals.

Lawrence Block’s Matthew Scudder does. He’s a former NYPD police officer who left the force after a tragic incident. He was going after two armed thieves who’d shot a bartender when he accidentally shot a young girl Estrellita Rivera. No-one really blames Scudder for this – not even the victim’s family. But he himself feels a great deal of guilt about it. He knows that nothing he can do or say will bring the girl back and he does pick up his life after a fashion. Slowly, he starts a new career as a PI. But he never forgets Estrellita. Whenever he gets the chance, he visits local churches, and always lights a candle for her. That ritual helps him deal with his reaction to having shot her, however accidentally.

In Karin Alvtegen’s Betrayal, we meet Jonas Hansson. He had a very unhappy childhood, but managed to make it into adulthood and found happiness in his relationship with his fiancée Anna. Then one day, Anna nearly drowned. Now she’s in a coma, and although she hasn’t responded, Hansson visits her at least once a day. At first, the hospital staff respects his devotion to Anna, but before long, it’s clear that he’s not dealing with what happened in a very healthy way. One night, he’s at a pub when he meets Eva Wirenström-Berg, who has her own problems. She’s just discovered that her husband Henrik has been unfaithful, and she’s devastated about it. She and Hansson strike up a conversation and after this chance encounter, things begin to spiral out of control for both of them. The end result is real tragedy for more than one person. As the story evolves, we learn that Hansson still bears the scars of his youth, and has certain rituals for dealing with stress. One of them is to recite from memory the distances among different places in Sweden:

 

‘Alingsås to Arjeplog 1179 kilometres, Arboga to Arlanda 144, Arvidsjaur to Borlänge 787.’

 

The rituals that Hansson goes through don’t change anything. They don’t bring Anna back to health, and they don’t draw him out of the tragic course of events in this novel. But they do calm him and we can see in his character how and why people sometimes engage in them.

When families have to deal with a missing loved one, especially (‘though not exclusively) when it’s a child, they often develop rituals. It’s almost as though those rituals will bring the child safely home. You see that sort of thing in several crime novels; I’ll just mention one. In Giles Blunt’s Forty Words For Sorrow, we are introduced to Dorothy Pine, a member of the Ojibwa First Nation. Five months before the events in the novel, her daughter Katie went to school one morning and never came home. John Cardinal of the Algonquin Bay Police was assigned to the case, but he and his team couldn’t find any solid leads as to the child’s whereabouts. Although it’s highly unlikely that Katie is still alive, her mother has ritually kept her things exactly as they were. Then a body is discovered in an abandoned mine shaft on Windigo Island. When the body is identified as Katie Pine, Cardinal has the thankless task of informing her mother. When he visits the house, we see how Katie’s things have been kept neatly, as though she would be home any time. This ritual actually turns out to be helpful to Cardinal, as he finds a clue that helps him track down the murderer.

And then there’s Ivy Pochoda’s Visitation Street, which takes place mostly in the Brooklyn neighbourhood of Red Hook, located where the East River empties into a bay. One hot summer night, Valerie ‘Val’ Marino and June Giatto decide on an impulse to take a raft ride on the bay. At first it’s fun, but then tragedy strikes. Very early the next morning, Val is found on the beach by one of her teachers. June has disappeared. At first there’s every hope that June will come back, but as time goes by, it seems more and more likely that she’s drowned. Val has to cope with the grief of her friend’s disappearance. She also has to cope with the way everyone reacts to her (i.e. Might she know more than she’s saying about what happened?). Part of the way she deals with this, especially at first, is to go through all sorts of rituals, with the idea that they’ll bring June back.

 

‘If she goes to the party, does exactly what June would have wanted her to do, June will come back.’

 

It’s not spoiling the story to say that Val’s rituals don’t affect the truth of what happened, or of the novel’s outcome. But they do give Val a sense of control, however false, over what happens.

And that’s true for most of us. We may know very well intellectually that those kinds of rituals don’t change things. But it doesn’t stop us going through them. These are only a few examples from crime fiction. Which ones have stayed with you?

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from John Lennon’s Whatever Gets You Thru the Night.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Giles Blunt, Ivy Pochoda, Karin Alvtegen, Lawrence Block

There Ain’t No Easy Way Out*

HardChoicesHave you ever faced the sort of dilemma where neither choice was really a good one? Sometimes these are called ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ situations. If you have, then you know how stressful it can be to have to choose what to do. But those dilemmas happen quite a lot in real life. And they can add suspense and character depth to a crime novel. That’s why we see them in crime fiction as often as we do.

For example, in Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep, General Guy Sternwood hires Los Angeles-based PI Philip Marlowe to help him stop an extortionist. Book dealer Arthur Geiger has sent Sternwood a blackmail letter that makes reference to Sternwood’s daughter Carmen, and as you can imagine, Sternwood wants Geiger stopped. Marlowe agrees to work the case and goes to visit Geiger. When he finds Geiger though, it’s too late; his quarry’s just been murdered. What’s more, Carmen Sternwood is a witness. She’s either been drugged or has had a mental breakdown, so she can’t really tell Marlowe what happened, but she saw it all. Now Marlowe faces a difficult choice. His obligation to Sternwood is complete; Geiger won’t be a problem any more. On the other hand, Carmen Sternwood faces the very real possibility that the police will arrest her on suspicion of murder. If Marlowe washes his hands of the case, he is free of the disagreeable Sternwood family, but leaves Carmen in grave danger. If he helps Carmen, she may be spared, but he’ll get even more entangled in the Sternwood family drama and more trouble. Marlowe decides to help Carmen…

In Karin Alvtegen’s Betrayal, Eva Wirenström-Berg and her husband Henrik have hit a rough spot in their marriage. Still, as far as Eva is concerned, she has the sort of life she’s always wanted: husband, son Axel, house with the white picket fence, etc. Then she discovers that Henrik has been unfaithful. Now she faces a difficult choice. If she stays with Henrik, of course, she has to live with his infidelity and learn to cope. But she still has her settled, suburban life and the home remains stable for Axel. If she leaves Henrik, her dreams of that life are shattered, and so is Axel’s world. But she no longer has to live with an unfaithful partner. Eva decides to take her own kind of revenge, and that decision leads to some terrible unexpected consequences.

Martin Clark’s The Legal Limit features brothers Mason and Gates Hunt, who grew up in Patrick County, Virginia. They’ve had a difficult start to life, being the sons of an alcoholic, abusive father. But they’ve made it to young adulthood. Mason has taken advantage of every opportunity and is now in law school. Gates has squandered his considerable athletic ability and now lives on his girlfriend’s Welfare payments and money from his mother Sadie Grace. One day, Gates gets into an argument with his romantic rival Wayne Thompson. The fight’s temporarily put ‘on hold,’ but later that night, the Hunt brothers are on their way home from a night out when they encounter Thompson again. The fight starts anew and before anyone really knows what’s happening, Gates has shot his rival. Out of filial duty, Mason helps his brother cover up the crime and life goes on for both brothers. Then, years later, Gates is arrested for cocaine trafficking and convicted. He asks his brother, now a commonwealth prosecutor, to help get him out of jail. Mason refuses. Gates threatens that if Mason doesn’t help him, he’ll implicate him in the still-unsolved Thompson murder. This presents Mason with a true ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ situation. If he goes along with his brother, he’ll be responsible for freeing a criminal and violating the ethical requirements of his job. If he doesn’t, he’ll be under indictment for a murder he didn’t commit. Mason’s decision not to arrange for his brother’s release puts him up against an incredibly difficult legal challenge.

In Gail Bowen’s The Gifted, academician and political scientist Joanne Kilbourn Shreve and her attorney husband Zack face a very challenging dilemma. Their fourteen-year-old daughter Taylor is a gifted artist who is passionate about her work. Two of her pieces are selected for inclusion in a high-profile art auction that will benefit a redevelopment project for the community of North Regina. If Taylor’s parents allow her to be a part of the auction, this will change everything for her. On the one hand, that will be a very good thing, as it will pave the way for Taylor to pursue her art. There will be scholarships and all sorts of other support for her. She’ll also get important recognition. On the other hand, Taylor is still a child. Her parents want to her to have as much of a normal childhood, whatever that actually is, as possible given her talent. Still, they don’t want to deny Taylor opportunities, so they somewhat reluctantly allow her to participate. That decision has dramatic unforeseen consequences when Taylor’s work is revealed at the auction.

Ernesto Mallo’s Needle in a Haystack features Buenos Airies police detective Venancio ‘Perro’ Lescano. Early one morning, he’s called to a crime scene, where he finds two bodies dumped by a riverbank. They bear the hallmarks of an Army ‘hit.’ This is late 1970s Argentina, when it’s extremely dangerous to say or do anything that might be interpreted as questioning the military-ruled government. So Lescano knows better than to raise comment about those bodies. But he finds a third body, too. This one is of moneylender and pawnbroker Elías Biterman. Someone’s gone to some trouble to make his death look like another Army ‘hit,’ but Lescano doesn’t think it is. He’s not a medical expert though, so he seeks help from his friend Dr. Fusili, who is a medical examiner. Fusili now faces a terrible choice. If he helps Lescano, he’s putting his own life in jeopardy. Certainly he’ll lose his job. On the other hand, if he doesn’t help Lescano, he’s betraying a friend. He’ll keep his position and perhaps even enhance his reputation, but he’ll be sacrificing his friendship and possibly sentencing Lescano to death. When Fusili decides to help Lescano, that choice puts him grave danger, but it gives Lescano badly needed support.

Wellington TV journalist Rebecca Thorne faces a very difficult decision in Paddy Richardson’s Traces of Red. She’s hit a sort of plateau in her career, and she knows that there are plenty of hungry journalists out there who are all too eager to grab headlines and ratings. So she needs the story that will secure her place at the top of the proverbial tree. Then she hears of just such a story. Connor Bligh has been in prison for years for the murders of his sister Angela Dickson, her husband Rowan and their son Sam. Only their daughter Katy survived because she wasn’t at home at the time of the killings. There are now hints that Bligh might be innocent and that’s what he himself claims. If he is, that’s exactly the story Thorne needs. However, there are plenty of people, Katy among them, who swear that Bligh is guilty and whose lives will be upended if Thorne goes after this story. Whichever choice Thorne makes, she’s taking risks. When she ultimately decides to pursue the story, she finds herself getting much closer to it than a professional normally should. Her choice has serious consequences for a lot of people.

It’s never easy to know what to do about a dilemma, especially when neither choice is really an outright positive one. But that tension makes for a real layer of interest in crime novels. Your turn.

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Tom Petty and Jeff Lynne’s I Won’t Back Down.

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Filed under Ernesto Mallo, Gail Bowen, Karin Alvtegen, Martin Clark, Paddy Richardson, Raymond Chandler

What a Tale My Thoughts Could Tell*

Stream of ConsciousnessOne of the devices that authors use to tell stories is stream of consciousness. It’s a fairly useful device, as it’s handy for building a story’s background and adding character depth, among other things. Stream of consciousness can also provide valuable point-of-view depth as well. Of course, like any other tool, it can be over-used or used clumsily. But when it’s handled effectively, it can add to a story.

Stream of consciousness certainly shows up in crime fiction, just as it does in any other genre. Here are just a few examples to show you what I mean. I’m quite sure you can think of lots more.

In Agatha Christie’s The Hollow (AKA Murder After Hours), Sir Henry and Lady Lucy Angkatell invite a group of guests to their home for the weekend. Among the guests are Harley Street specialist Dr. John Christow and his wife Gerda. On the Sunday afternoon, Christow is shot by the swimming pool. Hercule Poirot, who has taken a cottage nearby, has been invited for lunch. When he arrives, he thinks at first that it’s all some sort of macabre tableau set up for his ‘benefit.’ He soon sees that it’s all too real though, and works with Inspector Bland to find out who killed Christow and why. Christie uses stream of consciousness in several places in this novel. For instance, as the Christows are preparing to leave for the weekend, we follow Christiow’s line of thinking as he sees his last patients before the trip. We also follow Gerda’s line of thinking as she and their two children wait for him to join them for lunch. Those stream-of-consciousness moments give readers a look at their past history and backstory as well as their personalities.

There’s also stream of consciousness in Karin Alvtegen’s Betrayal. Eva Wirenström-Berg’s dream of the ‘white picket fence’ life is shattered when she discovers that her husband Henrik has been unfaithful. After her initial shock passes, she is determined to find out who the other woman is, and when she does, she makes her own plans for revenge. One night she happens to go to a pub when she meets Jonas Hansson, who is facing his own tragic issues. That meeting has terrible unforeseen consequences as life starts to spin out of control. In several places in the novel, we follow Eva’s line of thinking as she discovers Henrik’s affair, makes her plans and so on. We also follow Henrik’s line of thinking as we learn what led to his infidelity. And we follow Jonas Hansson’s thoughts as he meets Eva. In this case, the stream of consciousness gives insight into each character’s motivations and lets the reader see the events that happen from each one’s point of view.

Paddy Richardson’s Hunting Blind makes use of stream of consciousness too, mostly from the point of view of Stephanie Anderson. She is a newly-minted psychiatrist who lives and works in Dunedin. One day she has a breakthrough with a patient Elisabeth Clark. Years earlier, her younger sister Gracie was abducted and never found. Not even a body was recovered. She’s still dealing with the trauma of what happened, and it touches a nerve for Anderson. Seventeen years earlier, her own younger sister Gemma was also abducted, again with no trace of her ever found. Anderson decides to use the information she has about Gemma’s abduction and the information she gets from her patient to find out who caused such devastation in their families. She journeys from Dunedin to her home town at Wanaka to solve the mystery and lay her own ghosts to rest. As she does so, we follow her thoughts and internal monologue. And that stream of consciousness gives insight into her character, into the effect Gemma’s abduction has had on her, and into the way she slowly begins to heal.

Y.A. Erskine uses stream of consciousness in part to give backstory in The Brotherhood. When Sergeant John White of the Tasmania Police is murdered one morning, an entire group of people is deeply affected by the incident. As his fellow officers pursue the case, we see the events from the perspectives of several of the people in his life, including the other officer who was there; White’s former lover; his wife; and his protégé. Their thoughts give the reader helpful information about White and about their history with him.

Herman Koch’s The Dinner also includes stream of consciousness. Paul Lohman, his successful politician brother Serge, and their wives Claire and Babette meet for dinner at an exclusive Amsterdam restaurant. Within the context of the dinner, we learn about the family dynamics and about the awful secrets that some members of that family are hiding. The story moves through the courses of the dinner and as each course is served, we learn a little more about what those secrets are and what the family is really like. The story is told from the point of view of Paul Lohman, and Koch uses stream of consciousness to give the reader insights in to his character and into the family’s backstory.

Fans of H.R.F. Keating’s Inspector Ganesh Ghote will know that those novels often include stream of consciousness. For example, in Inspector Ghote Breaks an Egg, Ghote is sent to a small village to uncover the truth about the death of an eminent politician’s first wife. Ghote faces several challenges here. One is that the death happened fifteen years ago, so finding evidence will be difficult. Another is that any such investigation is delicate because of the power of the people involved. What’s more, a local holy man seems dead set against any investigation into the events. In fact, he’s fasting, and very publicly, until the investigation is stopped. But Ghote has been given his orders, so he goes to the village in the guise of an egg-seller, and works to uncover the truth. Throughout this novel, stream of consciousness shows the reader Ghote’s deductions, his character and personality, and his way of arriving at the truth.

And that’s the thing about stream of consciousness. On the one hand, if it’s mis-handled, it can be tedious and can take away from the pace of a crime novel. On the other, when used effectively, it can lend a story character depth and can provide important background information.

What are your thoughts on this? Do you enjoy stream of consciousness in crime fiction, or do you find it off-putting? If you’re a writer, do you use that device?

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Gordon Lightfoot’s If You Could Read My Mind.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, H.R.F. Keating, Herman Koch, Karin Alvtegen, Paddy Richardson, Y.A. Erskine

This is a Dangerous Liaison*

Dangerous LiaisonsIf you read enough crime fiction, you get to the point where you can almost give advice to the characters. Just as an example, there are plenty of novels where there’s a ‘boy meets girl’ situation that you absolutely know is not going to go well. If it’s handled deftly, that kind of scene or plot thread can add real tension and suspense to a novel. If it’s done poorly it gets predictable and therefore, just pulls the reader out of the story. Let me offer a few examples from crime fiction to show you what I mean.

In Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep, General Guy Sternwood hires private investigator Philip Marlowe to help him solve a delicate family problem. Book dealer Arthur Geiger has sent Sternwood an extortion letter that makes reference to Sternwood’s daughter Carmen. Marlowe’s job will be to make Geiger leave the Sternwood family alone. By the time he gets to Geiger’s place of business though, it’s too late: Geiger’s been murdered. What’s worse, it seems that Carmen Sternwood was a witness. Marlowe does his best to protect Carmen and thinks his business with the Sternwood family is done. But it’s really only beginning, as soon enough the Sternwood chauffer is killed. Then there’s another blackmail threat. It turns out that this is a very complicated case, but Marlowe manages to find out the truth. At one point in the novel, Carmen Sternwood tries to seduce Marlowe. It’s definitely one of those, ‘There is no way this can go well’ moments and it’s interesting to see how Marlowe handles it.

In Karin Alvtegen’s Betrayal, Eva Wirenström-Berg has recently discovered that her husband Henrik has been unfaithful. She’s devastated of course, and even more so when she finds out who the other woman is.  One evening, she goes out with no particular purpose in mind. She ends up at a pub where she meets Jonas Hansson, who has his own personal tragedy. The two strike up a conversation and by the time they leave the pub together, the reader has learned enough about both to know that this is not going to work out well. And it doesn’t. Instead, the situation spirals more and more out of control and ends tragically for more than one person.

Jane Casey’s The Burning introduces DC Maeve Kerrigan of the Met. She and her colleagues are on the trail of a killer that the press has nicknamed the Burning Man because he tries to destroy his victims by fire. At one point, they think they have their man, but while that suspect is in custody there’s another death. This time, PR professional Rebecca Haworth is the victim. At first it looks as though the Burning Man has struck again. But there are enough inconsistencies that this could also be a ‘copycat’ murder. For various reasons Kerrigan is asked to focus her attention on the Haworth case instead of the larger Burning Man investigation. She’s not thrilled about it, but she knows the consequences of not ‘playing by the rules.’ So she begins to dig into Haworth’s past. It turns out that there’s more than one possible suspect. Soon it’s clear that this is a separate investigation. Kerrigan and her team do get to the truth about both Rebecca Haworth’s murder and about the Burning Man murders. And without spoiling the novel, I can say that dangerous liaisons play a role. There are several moments in the novel where the reader is tempted to shout out a warning. There are enough plot twists though that it isn’t predictable.

In Out of the Silence, Wendy James offers a fictionalised account of a real-life case. In 1900, Maggie Heffernan was convicted in Melbourne of killing her infant son. James uses the novel to tell Maggie’s story, which begins in rural Victoria. There, Maggie meets Jack Hardy, who’s in from Sydney visiting relatives. The two soon begin a romantic relationship. At first, all seems fine. Then, Maggie begins to hope for a marriage proposal. The two do become secretly engaged, but Jack tells her that they’ll have to keep things private until he can earn enough to provide for a family. Instead of being alerted by this, Maggie agrees. Then Jack leaves for New South Wales to find work. Maggie discovers that she’s pregnant and writes to Jack. There is no answer, even after several letters. In the meantime, Maggie’s about to give birth and she knows that her own family won’t have her back. So she goes to Melbourne where she finds work in a Guest House. Baby Jacky duly arrives and for a short time, Maggie and her son stay in a home for unwed mothers. Then she learns that Jack may be in Melbourne and decides to go in search of him, sure that he’ll be overjoyed to have a family. Instead, Jack rejects her harshly, saying that she’s crazy. Devastated and desperate, Maggie takes the baby to six different lodging homes and is turned away from each one. That’s when the tragedy occurs. Savvy readers see it coming, but at the same time, the story is deftly told, so it keeps the reader’s interest.

And then there’s Jane Risdon’s short story The Honey Trap. In that story, a British agent spends the evening with a beautiful woman. You know immediately that something bad is going to happen. Such evenings have a nasty habit of going very, very wrong. I don’t want to spoil the story, so check it out to see how this one works out.

In Malcolm Mackay’s The Necessary Death of Lewis Winter, Stewart Macintosh is out one night at a Glasgow club called Heavenly. There he meets a beautiful woman Zara Cope. She seems attracted to him and the two become quite friendly. By the time this happens, the reader has learned that Zara is the girlfriend of drug dealer Lewis Winter, who’s been targeted for murder. As it happens, he’s at the club too, but he’s quite drunk, and Macintosh is besotted. He’s so besotted in fact that he agrees to help Zara get Winter back to the house and into bed, the idea being that he and Zara will then have the rest of the night together. You know this isn’t going to end well and it doesn’t. Two professional hit men burst in and Macintosh finds himself caught up in a web of murder, conspiracy and drug ‘patch wars.’

Agatha Christie uses that plot point in a few of her stories too, but since specific examples would give away too much, I’ll refrain from mentioning them. Sometimes, you just know that nothing good is going to come from a ‘boy meets girl’ situation, but when it’s done well, the suspense and interest help carry it off. Which examples have you thought worked really well?

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Jason Mraz’ The Remedy (I Won’t Worry).

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Filed under Jane Casey, Jane Risdon, Karin Alvtegen, Malcolm Mackay, Raymond Chandler, Wendy James

And it Seems That I’ve Arrived at a Battleground Just by Chance*

Unrelated MurdersSome crime fiction authors are quite skilled at tying together seemingly disparate cases. In those novels, the plot threads may seem separate at first, but they have a common origin (e.g. the same person committed two apparently distinct murders; or murder A was committed because the victim knew about Murder B). There are some cases though, where the sleuth is pursuing one case and runs into another, unrelated case on the way. It’s not easy to pull that kind of story off credibly. After all, the ‘long arm of coincidence’ can take away from a novel. And it’s important in a story like this to follow more than one plot thread effectively. But when it’s done well, it can be realistic. After all, the rest of life doesn’t stop when real-life cases are being investigated. Other things happen at the same time. Let me just share a few examples of stories like this to show you what I mean.

In Agatha Christie’s The Clocks, special agent Colin Lamb is in the town of Crowdean following up on the investigation into an alleged spy ring. His search leads him to a quiet neighbourhood called Wilbraham Crescent. He’s walking along the street there when a young woman Sheila Webb rushes out of one of the houses screaming that there’s a dead man inside. Lamb helps Webb settle herself and goes into the house to see for himself what’s there. When he discovers that she was right about there being a body in the house, he calls the police and the investigation into the man’s death begins. The case has enough strangeness about it that Lamb thinks it will interest his father’s friend Hercule Poirot, so he tells Poirot about it. Poirot is indeed interested and with his help, Lamb and Inspector Richard Hardcastle find out who the dead man was and who killed him. That murder doesn’t have anything to do really with the spy ring case (which, by the way, Lamb also solves). It’s really proximity as you might say that brings the two cases together.

In Andrea Camilleri’s The Terra Cotta Dog, Inspector Salvo Montalbano gets an unusual request. Small-time crime boss Gegè Gullotta, who also happens to be a friend of Montalbano’s, has a message for him. Powerful crime leader Gaetano ‘Tano the Greek’ Bennici wants a meeting, and he wanted Gullotta to arrange it. Things get even more unusual when Montalbano meets with Bennici. It turns out that Bennici wants to be arrested. He has reasons of his own and Montalbano decides to oblige. Information that Bennici gives him leads Montalbano to an illegal cache of arms that’s hidden in a cave. And that’s when Montalbano stumbles onto a fifty-year-old mystery. The remains of two young lovers are in a separate part of the cave, together with a life-sized terra-cotta dog seemingly watching over them. Montalbano can’t resist the urge to find out who the two people were and why and by whom they were murdered.

In Karin Alvtegen’s Betrayal, we are introduced to Eva Wirenström-Berg. She and her husband Henrik have what Eva thinks is a stable marriage, and they’re the loving parents of six-year-old Axel. Then, Eva finds out to her shock that Henrik has been unfaithful. Not only is this is of course a devastating personal betrayal, but it also shatters Eva’s dream of the perfect suburban family life. When she finds out who Henrik’s lover is, she decides to take a form of revenge against them both. At the same time, we follow the story of Jonas Hansson, who has his own sorrow to bear. He’s the product of a very unhappy childhood, but he found real solace in his fiancée Anna. Then one night she nearly drowned in a fall from a local pier. Since then she’s been in a coma and Jonas has faithfully visited her every day to take care of her. One night he and Eva happen to meet in a pub. That’s when things begin to spiral out of control for both of them, and the choices they both make have tragic consequences. Eva may not be an ‘official’ sleuth, but this is a fascinating example of a person who’s working on one set of problems and comes upon an entirely different set…

Christopher Brookmyre’s Quite Ugly One Morning is the story of journalist Jack Parlabane. He was in Los Angeles pursuing leads on a major case of greed and corruption at high levels when some very nasty people made it unwise for him to stay. So Parlabane has returned to his home in Edinburgh where he’s hoping he’ll be able to carry on his investigation from a distance. One morning he wakes up with a terrible hangover. He soon hears a loud commotion in the building where he lives so he stumbles out of his flat to see what’s going on. That’s when it occurs to him that he’s locked himself out. He does remember that he left his window open though, so he’s hoping that if the people in the downstairs flat will let him, he can crawl through there up to his open window. When he gets to the downstairs flat though, he finds a brutally murdered man. It turns out that Parlabane has come upon a very ugly crime scene that will have implications in high places. Not wanting to call attention to himself, he tries to get through the flat quietly and sneak out the window, but DC Jenny Dalziel gets there before he can escape. At first she makes the obvious inference, but when Parlabane convinces her that he isn’t the murderer, they find they can be of help to each other. As it turns out, Parlabane was working on one case of greed and corruption and accidentally stumbled on another, major story.

And then there’s Geoffrey McGeachin’s The Diggers Rest Hotel. In that novel, Melbourne cop Charlie Berlin is sent to Wodonga to help the local police catch a motorcycle gang that’s been committing a series of robberies. The robberies have turned violent with the most recent incident at a local railway station; in that case, the paymaster was injured. So there’s a lot of pressure now to solve these robberies before anyone else gets hurt or worse. While he’s in Wodonga working on the motorcycle gang case, Berlin gets drawn into another. The body of sixteen-year-old Jenny Lee is found in an alley. At first, it seems that the motorcycle gang must be responsible for her death. But when Berlin finds out that’s not the case, he has to start all over to find out who would have wanted to kill Jenny and why. In this instance, one case happens to put Berlin at the right place at the right time to work on another.

And that’s the way it happens sometimes. Unrelated cases like that are not easy to write. But when they’re done well we can get a realistic picture of how life sometimes puts detectives working on one case right in the path of another.

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Marshall Crenshaw’s Lesson Number One.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Andrea Camilleri, Christopher Brookmyre, Geoffrey McGeachin, Karin Alvtegen