Woke Up, Fell Out of Bed, Dragged a Comb Across My Head*

One thing that makes well-written fictional sleuths appealing is that they’re human. They’re not always at their best. Real-life people aren’t always at their best either, so it makes it easier to identify with a sleuth when we see that they have to deal with those moments too. If you’ve ever gone to work and realised only later that you were wearing shoes from two different pairs, you know what I mean. If you’ve ever spilled coffee or tea on your clothes just before an important meeting, you know what I mean. Those moments may not necessarily add to the suspense of a crime fiction novel. They may not yield clues either. But they do make sleuths more human and likeable and they can make for touches of humour in a story too.

For instance, in Agatha Christie’s Evil Under the Sun, Hercule Poirot takes a holiday at the Jolly Roger Hotel on Leathercombe Bay. One of his fellow guests is beautiful and notorious actress Arlena Stuart Marshall. Not long after she and her husband Kenneth and stepdaughter Linda arrive at the hotel, she begins a not-very-carefully hidden affair with another guest Patrick Redfern, and soon enough she’s the subject of a lot of gossip. One morning, Poirot goes down to the beach shortly after breakfast and sees that Arlena Marshall is trying to get aboard a float to take her to Pixy’s Cove, not far from the hotel. Poirot gallantly tries to help her – and soaks his white suède shoes in the process. That’s annoying enough, but he’s even more embarrassed a bit later when another guest Emily Brewster notices and comments on the shoes. Less than three hours later, all thoughts of wet shoes are banished when Arlena Marshall’s body is discovered at Pixy’s Cove. Since Poirot was arguably the last person to see the victim before her death, he helps Colonel Weston to find out who the murderer is. The first and most likely suspect is her husband Kenneth Marshall. But he’s got a solid alibi for the time of the murder, so the police and Poirot have to look elsewhere. The incident with the shoes doesn’t give Poirot a clue or solve the case. But it does add a touch of humanity and even humour.

In Helene Tursten’s Detective Inspector Huss, Irene Huss works with the rest of her team to find out the truth about the death of successful businessman Richard von Knecht. On the surface, it looks as though von Knecht jumped from the balcony of his high-rise penthouse. But soon enough, forensic evidence suggests he might have been pushed. So Huss, her boss Sven Andersson and the rest of the team look into the case. At one point, Huss travels from Göteborg to Stockholm to visit von Knecht’s first wife Mona Söder to try to get some background on von Knecht. She’s a bit delayed buying her ticket and has to rush to catch her train. It’s only then that she realises how out-of-place she looks among the business-executive types who usually travel by that train:

 

“She wasn’t wearing a suit or high-heeled shoes, and she carried no briefcase or laptop. In her black jeans, her down-filled poplin jacket, and her red wool sweater she felt like a total misfit.” 

 

Huss finds a way to deal with this embarrassment though. When a chic-looking business executive looks askance at Huss, she

 

“…gave the woman in the suit a radiant smile and sat down. That’s the most effective way to startle people. They think you’re crazy and instantly avert their eyes.”

 

I like that presence of mind. And Huss’ trip to Stockholm proves helpful too as she gets some fascinating perspective on von Knecht and his past.

In Garnethill, Denise Mina introduces us to ticket-taker Maureen “Mauri” O’Donnell. O’Donnell wakes up one day after a very long night of drinking only to find the body of her lover Douglas Brady in her living room. She calls the police and they immediately begin an investigation. O’Donnell is the prime suspect and there’s evidence against her, too. She’d recently broken up with Brady, his body was found in her flat, and she can’t account for her time after she returned to the flat. What’s worse, O’Donnell has a history of mental instability stemming from childhood abuse. So Inspector Joe McEwan isn’t inclined to treat O’Donnell with “velvet gloves,” so to speak. When the police arrive at the flat, they close off everything, including access for O’Donnell. So she can’t shower or get to her clean clothes. Hung over, unshowered and with her makeup half off from the night before, O’Donnell is interviewed and interviewed again. Her dishevelment and upset state don’t completely stop her though. In fact, she insists on being allowed to leave the station at least for a while so she can clean up. The police still aren’t entirely satisfied with her claim of innocence but finally she’s allowed to leave. She ends up having to borrow showers, clothes and couches from friends until she’s finally allowed back into her own home. O’Donnell knows that she isn’t guilty, but she also knows that McEwan suspects that either she or her brother Liam is the murderer. So she decides to find out herself who killed Douglas Brady so she can clear her name and that of her brother.

Patrik Hedström has a few of “those moments” in Camilla Läckberg’s The Ice Princess. In that novel, he and his team investigate the murder of Alexandra “Alex” Wijkner, whose frozen body is found in her bathtub. One of the first people to see the body – and the one who reports the murder to the police – is Alex’s former friend Erica Falck, who’s recently returned to the town of Fjällbacka to pursue her writing career. Erica is devastated by her friend’s death even though they haven’t been in touch in a very long time. Partly as a way of dealing with her loss, she decides to write a book about Alex. In the process she begins to ask questions about the murder. Meanwhile Patrik pursues that investigation and an investigation into another, related death in his professional capacity. The two had always been attracted to each other but hadn’t ever done anything about it. Now as they have contact during this set of investigations, they also begin a romantic relationship and that causes more than one moment of embarrassment. For instance, at one point Patrik’s been spending the night with Erica and also pursuing leads in the case. So he doesn’t take the time to change clothes for almost two days. He’s caught out by Annika Jansson, the police station’s highly competent secretary who runs just about everything. She teases him about it and about his relationship with Erica until she makes him promise to keep her updated. Patrik and Annika have a friendly relationship but that doesn’t stop him from feeling embarrassed.

And then there’s Australian Federal Police officer Bradman “Brad” Chen, who solves a double murder in Kel Robertson’s Smoke and Mirrors. Chen has been on leave from the police force after being badly wounded, both physically and mentally, in a case. He’s persuaded to come back on duty when former politician Alec Dennet and his editor Lorraine Starke are both murdered at a writer’s retreat near Canberra. Dennet was writing his memoirs at the time of his death and all evidence is that he and Starke were killed to prevent some of the potentially damaging material in those memoirs from becoming public. There’s more to this case than that though as Chen discovers during the investigation. At one point, he and a work mate have had a long night of drinking and are much the worse for wear, but they still have to drag themselves to Dennet’s house where they’ve planned to meet a team-mate nicknamed Talkative.  When they arrive:

 

“Talkative was sitting on the front steps…
‘The two of you aren’t in any position to throw stones,’ he said. ‘You look s***house.’
‘Filipowski fell in with a bad crowd after work and I felt honour bound to keep a fatherly eye on him. He drank. I watched. He drank for a long time. I watched for a long time. We are both very tired.’”

 

It’s not Chen’s finest moment. Still, he, Filipowski, Talkative and the rest of the team find out the surprising truth about who killed Dennet and Starke and why.

Those “less than one’s best” moments can add a lot to a sleuth’s appeal – certainly they make sleuths more human. And they can add a refreshing touch of humour to an otherwise dark story.

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from The Beatles’ A Day in the Life.

You Shook Me All Night Long*

One of the challenges that crime fiction authors face is how to realistically move the plot of a novel along. I don’t so much mean action as I mean placing clues and “red herrings,” putting the sleuth (especially amateur sleuths) in contact with suspects and witnesses and in other ways setting up the events of the story. Many authors have hit on a very effective way to face this challenge – partying. No, really. Let’s face it; going out for the evening puts people in contact with other people, and that in itself can add suspense and generate interesting conflict. And many parties are fueled with alcohol; we all know that alcohol tends to loosen the tongue and lower inhibitions and that, too, can lead to all sorts of suspense and conflict. And partying means that people are generally paying attention to the people they’re talking with and not to what may be going on in another room or outside. That can lead to the perfect “psychological moment” for murder, too.

Agatha Christie’s novels often use parties very effectively. For instance, in Mrs. McGinty’s Dead, Hercule Poirot is staying in the village of Broadhinny where he’s been asked to look into the case of a charwoman who was allegedly murdered by her unpleasant lodger James Bentley. Superintendent Spence, who investigated the case originally, doesn’t think Bentley is guilty so he’s asked Poirot to examine the case again. Also visiting Broadhinny is detective novelist Ariadne Oliver, who is working with local playwright Robin Upward on an adaptation of one of her novels for the stage. One night, another resident Eve Carpenter and her politician husband Guy invite several of the residents of Broadhinny to a “meet the celebrity” cocktail party, and both Poirot and Oliver are invited. At that party, the gin flows, so to speak, and two of the residents give important clues. One clue in particular is very helpful to Poirot as he figures out who would want to kill Mrs. McGinty and why.

Colin Dexter’s The Dead of Jericho begins with a party. In that novel, Inspector Morse attends a party hosted by Mrs. Murdoch. That’s where he meets Anne Scott, to whom he’s very quickly attracted. The wine flows, the attraction is mutual and the two spend quite a lot of time together at the party. In fact Morse is just deciding how he’ll make his “let’s leave the party together” move when he gets a work-related call and has to leave. He doesn’t really pursue the relationship with Anne Scott and that comes back to haunt him six months later when he happens to be in her neighbourhood. On impulse he goes to her house only to find that she’s dead, apparently from hanging herself. Morse feels guilty for not pursuing the relationship and is determined to find out what happened. As you would guess, this isn’t a simple case of despondency leading to suicide.

Christianna Brand’s Green For Danger also features a party that’s used quite effectively. Postman Joseph Higgins has been taken to Heron Park Hospital for what’s supposed to be routine treatment of a broken femur. He’s prepared for surgery and taken to the operating theatre. But tragically he dies in what looks like an accidental “on-the-table” death. Inspector Cockrill of the Kent County Police is sent to the hospital to write up a routine report on the accident since Higgins’ death was not from natural causes. It’s not long before Cockrill begins to suspect that Higgins was murdered though, especially when Higgins’ widow insists that that’s what happened. One night several of the workers at this wartime hospital go to a party being held at the Hospital Mess. Plenty of liquor goes down and there’s more than a little flirting and unguarded conversation. At one point, Sister Marion Bates, who was present at the operation where Higgins died, has had much more to drink than is good for her. She blurts out that she knows Higgins was murdered and what’s more, she has proof. Most people at the party think she’s just making up stories to get attention but the killer, who’s also there, knows that Bates is telling the truth. Later that night, she’s murdered and her body left on an operating table. Now Cockrill has to go back and look more carefully at what he knows about Higgins’ death as well as find out who killed Marion Bates.

In Peter Robinson’s A Dedicated Man, DCI Alan Banks and his team investigate the bludgeoning death of archaeologist and academic Harry Steadman. Steadman and his wife Emma had retired to North Yorkshire so that Steadman could pursue his passion for the examining the old Roman ruins of the area. At first there seems no motive for the murder; Steadman was well-liked and had an enduring marriage. But a little digging into the history of the area and the history of the relationships among some of the people leads Banks to believe that the motive for this crime lies in the past. One of the residents who knows more than she says at first is sixteen-year-old Sally Lumb. One night some months prior to the murder, she sneaked out to an out-of-town club. While she was there, she saw something that returns to her later, during the investigation. That observation gives her an important clue. When the murderer finds out what Sally knows, she too is killed. Now Banks has to find out who is behind both of these murders.

Anthony Bidulka’s sleuth, Saskatoon PI Russell Quant, gets invited to a very useful party in Amuse Bouche. Quant’s been hired by wealthy business executive Harold Chavell to find Chavell’s partner, computer tech wizard Tom Osborn. The two had planned to marry but Osborn disappeared right before the wedding. Quant takes the case and travels to France, where Chavell and Osborn had planned to go for their honeymoon trip. Osborn’s passport is missing, so Chavell believes his partner took the trip alone to give himself “time to think.” Quant’s unsuccessful at tracking Osborn down, but he does get a message that Osborn doesn’t want to be found and to drop the case. Chavell resigns himself to this and Quant returns to Saskatoon. He doesn’t stop asking questions though, and one night, he gets a good opportunity to continue his investigation. His mentor, successful clothing entrepreneur Anthony Gatt, invites Quant to a party. Quant attends, only to find that Gatt has also invited Osborn’s business partner and other people who are key to this investigation. It’s a perfect opportunity to find out more about what’s happened to Osborn and Quant uses it. It’s only later that Quant realises that this was Gatt’s way of, among other things, helping with the investigation.

Martin Edwards’ The Hanging Wood also features effective use of a party. In that novel, Cumbria Constabulary DCI Hannah Scarlett is dismayed to hear of the apparent suicide of Orla Payne. What particularly upsets Scarlett is that Payne had called her more than once to try to get the police to re-open the case of her missing brother Callum. Twenty years earlier, Callum Payne disappeared and was never found – not even a body was discovered. Orla Payne is convinced her brother was murdered and wanted Scarlett to look into the case. Because of Orla Payne’s death Scarlett feels a special sense of urgency to find out the truth about the Payne family. One night she attends an Awards Dinner at the Brewery Arts Centre. The purpose of the event is to give out awards to individuals and teams in the local constabularies for outstanding work. On the not-so-hidden agenda is for the police to solicit contributions and support from local wealthy families and organisations. Scarlett isn’t eager to attend, but she does so from a sense of duty. While she’s there, she meets successful businessmen Gareth and Bryan Madsen and their families. She also hears some very helpful gossip about the Payne family and some of the network of relationships among the local families. That information helps her as she and her team look into what happened to Callum and Orla Payne. In the end, it’s that network of relationships that’s behind everything.

A night of partying can lead to morning-after regrets. But in crime fiction it can also be a very effective way to introduce clues and “red herrings,” arrange for the sleuth to interact with other characters, and set the scene for a murder.

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is the title of an AC/DC song. Also one of Margot’s top. Party songs. Evah.

Keeping Up Appearances ;-)

‘Tis May, ’tis May, ’tis….

 

…time for another quiz! Oh, don’t look at me like that! I’m not the one who clicked onto this blog, am I? Hmmm?

 

A crime fiction fan like you knows your favourite sleuths quite well. I’ll bet you’d even know them if they walked into the room, wouldn’t you? Or would you? Take this handy quiz and find out. Match each description to the correct sleuth. At the end of the quiz, check your score to see how you have done. Don’t forget to go all the way to the end of the quiz to see which items you got correct.

Ready? Look in the mirror to begin…if you dare

 

In The Spotlight: James Craig’s Never Apologise, Never Explain

Hello, All,

Welcome to another edition of In The Spotlight. London is one of the most interesting and storied cities in the world, rich with history and modern-day diversity and colour. It’s difficult to capture London in just one novel because of that diversity, but some authors truly give the reader a sense of today’s London. Today let’s take a closer look at one of them. Let’s turn the spotlight on James Craig’s Never Apologise, Never Explain.

The real action in the novel begins in the home of Agatha Mills, who lives with her husband Henry on Great Russell Street near the British Museum. One night, she’s bludgeoned to death. Inspector John Carlyle from Charing Cross Station and his assistant Joe Szyskowski are called to the scene and begin the investigation. The first suspect is Henry Mills. He claims that he was sleeping at the time of the murder and didn’t hear anything because he wears earplugs. He also claims he had no motive to murder his wife. His own alibi is very thin and when Carlyle asks him who did kill his wife, Henry Mills’ explanation is even more difficult to believe. He says that Agatha Mills had enemies who were out to get her. No-one believes Mills and he’s promptly arrested.

There is some evidence that Henry Mills is innocent though, and although that evidence is quite meagre, it stays in Carlyle’s mind. And then, he gets a clue from an extremely unexpected source. On the night of the murder, local tramp and drunk Walter Poonoosamy, nicknamed Dog, was actually at the building where Henry and Agatha Mills live. When Carlyle encounters him and finds out what that clue is, he realises that Henry Mills could be right. So he begins to ask questions and probe a little more deeply into the matter. The more he learns about Agatha Mills’ possible enemies, the more he realises that this is both a delicate and dangerous matter involving international relations and diplomacy. If he’s going to bring the killer to justice, he’s going to have to move carefully.

In the meantime, Carlyle also has another case to investigate, this one less formally. One of Carlyle’s acquaintances is Amelia Jacobs, a former prostitute who now works as a maid for Sam Laidlaw, who’s also in “the business.” Jacobs is worried because of Michael Hagger, a local gangster who is also the father of Laidlaw’s son Jake.  She asks Carlyle to contact Hagger and let him he’s under surveillance and needs to stay away from Laidlaw and their son. Carlyle agrees, but by the time he really gets down to looking for Hagger, Hagger has already snatched Jake and the two have disappeared. Now he’s going to have to sift through part of London’s underworld to catch Hagger and retrieve Jake before it’s too late.

One of the clearest elements in this novel is its setting. Carlyle travels through several parts of London as he tries to solve the mystery of Agatha Mills’ murder and two other subsequent murders. We travel from Russell Square to the Chilean Embassy to No. 10 Downing Street and other parts of the city too. At the same time, as Carlyle uses his contacts to try to find the missing Jake Laidlaw, we see the not-so-lovely side of London – the side tourists don’t generally see. Sam Laidlaw, for instance, lives on Mercer Street near Seven Dials – not a particularly scenic part of the city. And Michael Hagger doesn’t exactly frequent the best parts of the city. All in all we see London in all of its complexity, vivid colour and life. It’s extremely difficult to describe London in just a short space and Craig doesn’t try. Rather, we get snapshots of different sides of the city.

The mystery itself is engaging. It’s not long before we know who is behind the murders; in fact the reader knows more than Carlyle knows at first. But as the story unfolds, the pace of the story is kept up by the “cat and mouse” game between the killer and Carlyle. There’s real tension and suspense, too, as Carlyle tries to negotiate the forest of officialdom and diplomacy to get to the truth while at the same time searching for Jake Laidlaw.

In that sense – the pace and action in the story – you could call this novel a thriller. But that wouldn’t be entirely accurate. There’s a strong element of police procedural in the story as well. Readers follow along as Carlyle and Szyskowsk make sense of interviews, evidence, forensic reports and so on. We also get a look at police bureaucracy as Carlyle deals with his boss Commander Carole Simpson, who has her own problems. She’s facing budget issues, “image” issues and some wrenching personal problems.

Carole Simpson is one of several interesting characters who also add an important element to this novel. Another is Dominic Silver. Silver and Carlyle went to school together and have remained friends. In fact, Silver was actually a cop on the Metropolitan Police at one time, but wasn’t happy with the life. Now he’s a successful drug dealer. He’s not a stereotypical nasty brainless thug, though. He’s got, as Craig tells us,
 

“…a style that gleaned a little goodwill from even the most hard-nosed copper.”
 

He and Carlyle still stay in contact and help one another. In this case, Craig asks Silver for help finding Jake Laidlaw and in the end, Silver comes through and helps Carlyle get to the truth about the boy.

Carlyle himself is an interesting character as well. Dogged and determined, he’s also bright and savvy. He’s happily married and loves his wife Helen and daughter Alice very much. A word is in order too about the Carlyle family. Craig depicts them as a normal, imperfect but not wretched or dysfunctional family. That also is an important element in the novel.

There’s also a sense of humour running through the novel. For example, one of the cases that Carlyle has to deal with is the case of a bus driver who is deeply offended by an ad on the side of the bus he is assigned to drive. He protests by parking his bus – filled at the time with passengers – in the middle of a street, seriously impeding traffic and upsetting everyone. It is a tense scene but it’s darkly funny, too.

Despite the humour, this isn’t a bright, happy novel where everything works out. We do find out the truth about the murders, for instance, but that doesn’t make for what you’d call a happy ending. In the sense of finding out the answers to the mysteries, the reader is satisfied. But readers who prefer mysteries where everyone gets closure and things are made right again will be disappointed. This is a “messier” ending than that. But it is a very authentic and believable ending.

A mix of thriller and police procedural with a dose of interesting characters, Never Apologise, Never Explain is a uniquely London story. It’s got a dose of grit, some dark humour and features a hard-working cop who probably wouldn’t be really happy anywhere else. But what’s your view? Have you read Never Apologise, Never Explain? If you have, what elements do you see in it?

 
 
 

Coming Up On In The Spotlight
 

Monday 28 May/Tuesday 22  May – The Ice Princess – Camilla Läckerg

Monday 4 June/ Tuesday 5 June – The Legal Limit – Martin Clark

Monday 11 June/Tuesday 12 June – A Cotswold Killing – Rebecca Tope

The Alphabet in Crime Fiction: Roderick Alleyn

There’s a lot of excitement here at Confessions of a Mystery Novelist… Today begins another thrilling and dangerous journey through the crime fiction alphabet. Once again I’m very much indebted to our tour guide Kerrie at Mysteries in Paradise for putting this journey together.

My choice for today’s first stop – the letter A – is one of the more famous of Scotland Yard’s detectives, Ngaio Marsh’s Roderick Alleyn. Alleyn makes his debut in 1934’s A Man Lay Dead, in which he investigates the stabbing death of Charles Rankin. It all takes place at a house party hosted by Sir Hubert Handesley, who has arranged a “murder game” in which someone is designated as “the murderer” and someone else “the victim.” The other guests are charged with finding out who “the murderer” is. When Rankin is really killed, Alleyn is called in to investigate and he discovers that there is no shortage of suspects. Alleyn goes on to feature in thirty-one other novels that take place in several different kinds of settings.

There are several appealing things about Alleyn’s character. He’s “well-born,” Oxford-educated and titled, but he’s not overly class-conscious. For instance, in Tied Up in Tinsel, he investigates the disappearance and murder of Alfred Moult, who’s killed during a Christmas house-party given by Hilary Bill-Tasman. The easiest and most obvious suspects are the members of Bill-Tasman’s house staff, all of whom are former convicted criminals. They themselves assume that Alleyn will suspect them so at first they hide what they know about the crime. But Alleyn soon proves that he hasn’t drawn any conclusions about them yet. In this case and in several other cases, Alleyn shows that he is no respecter of class and wealth when it comes to finding a murderer.

Alleyn is a skilled detective, but he doesn’t solve cases through sheer brilliant guesses; that, too, is appealing. He draws conclusions and makes deductions from what he sees, hears and reads. For example, in Enter a Murderer, Alleyn is attending a production of The Rat and the Beaver at the Unicorn Theatre when one of the actors Arthur Surbonadier is shot by a prop gun that’s been tampered with and left loaded. Alleyn begins to investigate and gets the evidence that he can through interviews with witnesses and suspects as well as the evidence such as the gun, a pair of gloves and the body. When he deduces what must have happened, he lays a trap for the murderer to see if he’s right. In other words, Alleyn solves crimes through evidence, logic and deduction, not magic.

At the beginning of the series, Alleyn is single but in Artists in Crime he meets noted artist Agatha Troy. In that novel, Alleyn is called in when model Sonia Gluck is murdered during at a gathering at Troy’s home Tatler’s End House.  What Alleyn’s boss doesn’t know at first is that Alleyn and Troy have already met during a sea voyage. That first meeting didn’t go particularly well although Alleyn is already smitten with Troy. When she becomes a suspect in the murder, things get even more awkward. But as Alleyn soon learns, she isn’t the only suspect by any means. By the end of the novel, they’ve established a relationship and it develops later into marriage and parenthood. Alleyn’s family life also makes him an appealing detective. In fact, considering that the novels were written mainly during the Golden Age, one could argue that he’s quite ahead of his time in terms of the domestic partnership he and Troy establish. It’s obvious that he loves his wife very much and doesn’t like the thought of her in danger. That’s in fact his main concern in Tied Up in Tinsel – that his wife may be in jeopardy. At the same time though, Alleyn knows very well that his wife is smart, skilled and observant; he doesn’t really condescend to her. He misses her very much when they’re apart and enjoys her company when they’re together. They do have their domestic stresses now and again and that just makes Alleyn more human. Yes, he’s actually a police detective with a strong marriage and no problem drinking habit.

Besides his personal development as the series goes on, Alleyn also develops professionally. He rises in the ranks of the police, ending up as Detective Chief Superintendent. He also gets involved in several international cases and does some wartime service too. That varied professional experience makes him a more well-rounded character. It also gives his character depth, believability and interest.

Roderick Alleyn is often compared to other “gentleman detectives “such as Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot, Dorothy Sayers’ Lord Peter Wimsey and P.D. James’ Adam Dalgliesh. And there are some similarities among these men. But Alleyn is a unique character with a love of theatre, a solid detective’s intuition and a sense of humour too. Little wonder I decided to feature him first in this meme.

Want to join the Crime Fiction Alphabet meme yourself? It’s a lot of fun! Just add your blog to the set of links and come along for the ride. Thrills and chills guaranteed!

Wouldn’t It Be Nice if We Were Older?*

Do you remember your first love? Those first crushes and young love affairs can certainly be heartbreaking, and they don’t always have the comfort and stability that a more mature love affair does. But there’s something about them all the same. There’s an old saying that “in a corner of one’s heart, one is always thirteen,” and I can see that there’s some sense in that. Young love is exciting, romantic, and vulnerable at the same time. Perhaps that’s why it can make for such an interesting thread through crime fiction.

For example, young love motivates the investigation in Agatha Christie’s Five Little Pigs (AKA Murder in Retrospect). Carla Lemarchant and John Rattery have fallen in love and become engaged. But Carla has one concern about their upcoming marriage. Sixteen years earlier, her father, famous painter Amyas Crale, was poisoned. His wife Caroline was arrested, tried and convicted and there was strong evidence against her. But Carla is convinced that her mother was innocent, and she doesn’t want the shadow of that long-ago murder to get in the way of the couple’s happiness. So she asks Hercule Poirot to re-open the case and investigate it. He agrees and interviews the five people who were “on the scene” on the day of the murder. He also asks each for a written account of what happened on that day and on the days leading up to it. Poirot uses what he learns from those interviews and accounts to piece together what really happened and in the end, he finds out who killed Caroline Crale and why.

In John Dickson Carr’s Hag’s Nook, the first of his Dr. Gideon Fell novels, we meet American Tad Rampole, who’s doing some travelling after finishing his university studies. Rampole’s been advised by his university mentor to meet Fell and to his delight, Fell is only too happy to make his guest welcome. On the way to meet Fell, Rample also meets Dorothy Starberth and the two are immediately attracted. As it happens, the Starberth family lives not far from Fell’s home and when they meet, Fell has an interesting story to tell about the Starberths. Beginning with Anthony Starberth, two generations of Starberths were governors at nearby Chatterham Prison until it was closed and allowed to fall to ruins. In fact there’s still a ritual within the family that connects it with the prison. Each Starberth heir has to spend the night of his twenty-fifth birthday in the old Governor’s Room at the prison. As proof of his visit, he has to open the safe in the room and follow the instructions he finds there. There are stories that the Starberth family is cursed because several of the heirs have died unexpectedly and mysteriously. Now it’s the turn of the latest Starberth heir, Dorothy’s brother Martin. On the night of Martin Starberth’s visit to the Governor’s Room, Rampole, who’s by now in love with Dorothy, keeps vigil along with Fell and the local doctor. The next morning though, Martin is found dead, apparently from a fall over the balcony of the Governor’s Room. No-one was seen entering or leaving the prison that night, so it’s hard to see how anyone could have committed the murder. But it’s soon clear that this wasn’t an accident. Rampole knows that he and Dorothy Starberth won’t really be able to pursue their relationship until the matter is solved, so he works with Fell to find out who killed Martin Starberth and why.

Ross Macdonald’s The Far Side of the Dollar introduces us to seventeen-year-old Tom Hillman. The son of wealthy Ralph and Elaine Hillman, Tom’s had some discipline and other issues, so he’s been sent to Laguna Perdida, a special school for troubled young people. One day Tom Hillman goes missing from the school and its school principal Dr. Sponti hires Lew Archer to find the boy. Archer is still at the school when Ralph Hillman bursts into the school saying that his son has been kidnapped and he’s gotten a ransom note. Archer returns to the Hillman home and begins to work on the case. What he soon discovers is that this is not just a case of a wealthy boy who was kidnapped for money. Then, one of the people Tom was with is murdered. Then there’s another death. Now Archer has two cases of murder to investigate as well as a disappearance. Throughout this case Archer develops a rapport with Tom Hillman’s girlfriend Stella Carlson. Stella and her family live near the Hillman home and Archer suspects from the beginning that she may have valuable insights into the case and it turns out that he’s right. The two young people had planned a future together and she knows Tom Hillman perhaps as well as anyone does. In fact Stella Carlson provides Archer with very helpful information and turns out to be quite an ally.

In Elizabeth George’s Missing Joseph, Deborah and Simon St. James take a holiday in the village of Winslough. They’ve planned the trip because its vicar Robin Sage made a deep impression on Deborah during a chance encounter at a museum. By the time they get to the village though, it’s too late. Sage has died of accidental poisoning by water hemlock. It isn’t long before Simon begins to suspect that Sage’s death was deliberate so he asks his friend Inspector Thomas “Tommy” Lynley to investigate. Lynley agrees and begins to look into the lives of the people of Winslough and their relationships with the vicar to see who would have wanted to kill him. One of those people is local herbalist and single mother Juliet Spence, who’s had several concerns of her own. Her thirteen-year-old daughter Maggie is determined to find her father although Juliet has always discouraged this idea. As if that weren’t enough, Maggie has fallen in love with seventeen-year-old Nick Ware. Juliet doesn’t want Maggie seeing Nick but neither teenager wants to end the relationship. And as it turns out, Maggie Spence is crucial to the investigation of what happened to Robin Sage. And no, she didn’t kill him – no spoilers here.  And Maggie and Nick’s relationship is woven throughout the novel.

James W. Fuerst tells the story of another young romance in Huge. That’s the story of twelve-year-old Eugene “Huge” Smalls. Huge has had several problems in school, mostly getting along with others. He’s brilliant but he has difficulty controlling his anger and he doesn’t have very good social skills. The one thing Huge has always wanted is to be a detective like Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe. He gets his chance when his grandmother hires him to find out who defaced the sign at the retirement home where she lives. Huge takes the case and gets started asking questions. Along with his investigation, Huge is also preoccupied with his classmate Staci Sanders, whom he’s always found attractive but worshipped from afar. Huge gets a chance to talk to Staci when he meets her by chance at a party he crashes one evening. After that they begin to talk and become friends. As the novel evolves, so does their friendship and Huge finds out quite a bit about himself from Staci. It’s a very appealing thread that runs through this story.

In Karin Fossum’s Don’t Look Back, Inspector Konrad Sejer learns of the romance between fifteen-year-old Annie Holland and eighteen-year-old Halvor Muntz. Sejer is called to the village of Granittveien when Annie’s body is found by a local tarn. Sejer and his partner Jacob Skarre begin to ask questions about Annie’s relationships with her friends and family members and of course Halvor’s name comes up quickly. Sejer doesn’t want to think Halvor is guilty because it’s soon clear that Halvor was in love with Annie. The two had broken up and reunited a few times, but Halvor claims that he’s always loved her. Halvor’s life hasn’t been a very happy one and even now, he’s had to grow up too fast. He has a full-time job and is taking care of his ailing grandmother. Annie was a very special part of Halvor’s life so when she’s killed, he decides to find out what happened to her. In his own way, he starts to investigate too and finds out a crucial piece of information that helps lead Sejer and Skarre to the killer.

Young romances are a special part of most of our lives, and when they’re woven deftly into a crime novel, they can add a special poignancy to the story. Or maybe it’s just that they remind us of our own first romances…

 

ps. The handsome couple in the ‘photo are my daughter and her fiancé at their high school prom. A very special romance, if you ask me…

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from The Beach Boys’ Wouldn’t It Be Nice?

I Got Words in My Head So I Say Them*

We all know how important tact can be in negotiating life. Being diplomatic has an awful lot of advantages and it’s amazing how far tact can get a person. But on the other hand, diplomacy can have its limits. If you’ve ever watched  someone who speaks very plainly tell off a rude person and thought, “I wish I’d said that,” you know what I mean. There can definitely be times and places for “taking the gloves off.” Even if you tend to be a very diplomatic person yourself, it can be fun, too, to read what happens when people who are less tactful have their say. A quick look at crime fiction should show what I mean.

Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot is usually able to be quite tactful. He needs to be that way because he often has to work with members of police force and besides, tact often gets witnesses to speak their minds. But every once in a while even Poirot gets pushed to his limit. For instance, in The Murder on the Links, he and Captain Hastings investigate the stabbing death of Paul Renauld, a Canadian émigré to France. Also assigned to the case is M. Giraud of the Sûreté. Giraud is rude, condescending, insulting and worst of all stubborn. Poirot finds it nearly impossible to work with him but for quite a time he tries. Then one day Giraud pushes him too far and insults him once to often. Here is Poirot’s response:

 

“‘M. Giraud, throughout the case your manner to me has been deliberately insulting! You need teaching a lesson. I am prepared to wager you 500 francs that I can find the murderer of M. Renauld before you do. Is it agreed?’…
‘I have no wish to take your money from you.’
‘Make your mind easy – you will not!’
‘Oh, well, then, I agree! You speak of my manner to you being insulting. Eh, bien, once or twice your manner has annoyed me!’
‘I am enchanted to hear it,’ said Poirot. ‘Good morning, M. Giraud. Come, Hastings.’”

 

Even Poirot can be quite plain-spoken when the occasion calls for it.

So can Colin Dexter’s Inspector Morse. He’s certainly not one to spare another’s feelings, especially when he’s trying to solve a case. For example, in The Silent World of Nicholas Quinn, Morse and Sergeant Lewis investigate the poisoning death of Nicholas Quinn, the only Deaf member of the Oxford Foreign Examinations Syndicate. That group oversees exams given in other countries with a British education connection. There are several suspects among the members of the group, since Quinn’s nomination to it was not universal. Besides, Quinn had found out some secrets that some of the group members were only too eager to keep hidden. Then there’s another murder. Now Morse and Lewis have to find out what connects the two deaths. At one point, Morse is interviewing Syndicate member Donald Martin, whom he’s recently discovered lied to him during their first conversation:

 

“Morse said nothing to enlighten him [Martin]. ‘Let’s come back to last Friday afternoon.’
‘Not again, surely! I’ve told you what happened. All right, I lied for a start, but – ’
‘You’re lying now! And if you’re not careful you’ll be down in the cells until you do tell me the truth!’”

 

The conversation continues in this vein until Martin explains himself to Morse’s satisfaction – not an easy thing.

Another character who’s not at all afraid of being tactless is Reginald Hill’s Superintendent Andy Dalziel. There are a lot of examples of him saying exactly what he thinks, and many of them are really funny. In Recalled to Life, for instance, Dalziel and Sergeant Peter Pascoe are drawn into the investigation of an old crime. Cissy Kohler has recently been released from prison for involvement in the 1963 murder of Pamela Westrop. At the time, Ralph Mickeldore was arrested, charged and convicted, mostly based on evidence gathered by Dalziel’s mentor Wally Tallentire. Now, new evidence suggests that Kohler wasn’t guilty and there’s gossip that Tallentire knew that and hid what he knew. Dalziel doesn’t believe it and furthermore he resents the implication for his former  mentor. At one point, Dalziel is visiting Tallantire’s widow Maudie when she gets two other visitors.  One is Deputy Chief Constable Geoff Hiller, who knew Tallantire at the time of the Westrop murder. With him is DI Stubbs. Stubbs makes the mistake of greeting Dalziel this way:

 

“‘Hi. Glad to meet you, supe.’
‘Supe?’ echoed Dalziel. ‘Up here we drink supe. Or if it’s home made we chew it. Will you be staying in West Yorkshire long enough to learn our little ways?’”

 

It doesn’t help matters that Dalziel finds out that Hiller and Stubbs have been assigned to re-open the Kohler case. That’s enough for Dalziel and, in his own way, Pascoe, to look into the case themselves.

Adrian Hyland’s Emily Tempest is also not known for her tact and diplomacy. In fact even she admits that she’s too quick sometimes to say what’s on her mind. But she is refreshingly honest, and one can’t help thinking, “I wish I’d said that!” when she speaks her mind. For instance, in Gunshot Road, she’s just begun her work as an Aboriginal Community Police Officer (ACPO) when she and her team are called to Green Swamp Well. Prospector Albert “Doc” Ozolins has just been killed in what looks like a drunken quarrel gone terribly wrong. But Tempest doesn’t think it’s quite that simple. Her boss Bruce Cockburn though insists that the team has the right culprit and orders Tempest to leave it alone. As it is she’s riled by his officious and overbearing manner and at one point she’s had enough:

 

“‘You’re complicating a perfectly straightforward homicide investigation.’ [Cockburn]
‘Bunch of blokes flashing a video round a cabin? There hasn’t been a homicide investigation.’…
‘Are you questioning my competence?’
‘I’m sure has hell questioning something – reckon that’d be a reasonable place to start.’”

 

Needless to say, Tempest’s forthright way of speaking does not exactly endear her to Cockburn. Neither does her insistence on looking into the matter. In the end though, it turns out that Ozolins was killed for a much bigger reason than a drunken quarrel.

And then there’s Jussi Adler-Olsen’s Carl Mørck. He’s a Copenhagen homicide detective who’s not known for being overly tactful and polite, especially since the line-of-duty shooting incident from which he’s recovering in Mercy (AKA The Keeper of Lost Causes). In fact Mørck has become so difficult to work with that no-one is willing to team up with him. So he’s “promoted” to a newly created department – Department Q – that’s assigned to look into cases of “special interest.” One of those is the five-year-old disappearance of promising politician Merete Lynggaard. It was originally thought that she fell overboard in a tragic ferry accident, but little hints begin to suggest that she might still be alive. When Mørck and his assistant Hafez al-Assad discover how the original investigation was mishandled, Mørck is only too eager to tell the original investigator Børge Bak exactly what he thinks of him:

 

“‘So,Bak! That was a hell of a job you lot did on the Lynggaard case. You were up to your necks in signs that everything wasn’t as it should be. Had the whole team caught sleeping sickness or what?…So now I want to know if there’s anything else in the case that you’re keeping to yourself…Was there someone or something that put the brakes on your excellent investigation, Børge?”

 

We might agree that Mørck isn’t exactly the most tactful and diplomatic of sleuths but at the same time, it’s easy to cheer for him.

And that’s the thing about sleuths who speak their minds. Sometimes they reflect exactly what others are thinking, and we can’t help but respect their frankness. There are a lot of examples of them, too – more than I have space for here. Which are your favourites?

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Kiki Dee’s I’ve Got the Music in Me.