Category Archives: Craig Johnson

Fall in Philadelphia*

As this is posted, it’s 335 years since William Penn founded the US city of Philadelphia. As you’ll know, Philadelphia played a major role in early US history, and it’s still an important city, both culturally and in other ways. Did you know, for instance, that Le Bec Fin, one of the world’s top restaurants, is there? So are lots of other wonderful places to eat. And that the ‘Philadelphia sound’ had a powerful influence on popular music? And that the US Postal Service got its start there, when Benjamin Franklin set it up?

If you’re kind enough to read my blog on anything like a regular basis, then you’ll know that I spent most of my adult life in Philadelphia before more moving west, and I consider Philadelphia home. I’ve even set my next Joel Williams mystery mostly in Philadelphia. A standalone I’m writing is also set there.

And that’s the thing. Philadelphia is a great city in many ways, but it’s certainly not peaceful and crime-free! Just a quick look at crime fiction should show you that plenty of (at least fictional) mayhem happens there.

For example, Jane Haddam’s series features Gregor Demarkian, a former FBI agent who lives in an Armenian section of Philadelphia. He often gets drawn into mysteries through his association with the local parish priest, Father Tibor. The cases he gets involved in take him to many of Philadelphia’s different sections, and into its suburbs, too. In that way, Haddam shows clearly the diversity in the city. Each different part has a different ‘feel,’ and many of them are almost their own little worlds, where everyone knows everyone.

Gillian Roberts set her series featuring Amanda Pepper in Philadelphia. Pepper teaches English at Philadelphia Preparatory School (AKA Philly Prep), and gets drawn into more than one murder mystery. In Caught Dead in Philadelphia, for instance, Pepper gets an unexpected visit from Philly Prep’s part-time drama coach, Liza Nichols. Nichols asks if she can rest at Pepper’s home for a bit before going to the school later in the day. Pepper agrees, but when she gets home after her own work day, she finds Nichols dead. As you can imagine, she’s the first suspect, but Detective C.K. McKenzie is soon able to establish her innocence. This means, though, that someone else is guilty – someone who was in Pepper’s home. So, there’s a real sense of urgency about finding the killer.

Lisa Scottoline’s series is also set in Philadelphia. The Rosato and Associates/Rosato and DiNunzio novels feature the high-powered law firm, Rosato and Associates, owned by Benedetta ‘Bennie’ Rosato.  The series ‘stars’ various different members of the law firm in the different novels. The first, Everywhere That Mary Went, introduces Mary DiNunzio, who’s on track to become a partner in the firm. She soon finds that someone is stalking her. As if that’s not enough, her secretary is killed by a car that’s been following DiNunzio around.  Now, the firm is dealing with the murder of one of its own, as well as the very real risk that someone has targeted one of its junior attorneys.

Patricia Abbott’s Concrete Angel shows what life in Philadelphia was like in decades past, especially for those with means. The story begins in the late 1950’s. Evelyn ‘Evie’ Hobart grew up with little in the way of money or privilege, but she is beautiful and seductive. She is also acquisitive, and has always wanted ‘things.’ One night at a dance, she meets Hank Moran, who comes from a family with money and reputation, and it’s not long before they’re married. Now, Evie lives among the ‘better’ people in one of Philadelphia’s wealthy suburbs. It’s the sort of community where women take day trips into the city to shop, belong to clubs and societies, and focus on their well-appointed homes. Evie’s not really happy with her new life, though, since for her, the ‘spark of life’ comes from getting and having things, especially when she hasn’t paid for them. She’s caught more than once, but at first, everything’s kept quiet because of the family’s reputation and money. Finally, though, it becomes too much, and she is sent to The Terraces, an exclusive ‘special place’ where she can be ‘cured.’ Not much changes, though, and her daughter, Christine, grows up in that toxic environment. Evie does whatever she has to do to take what she wants, whether it’s money, jewels, men, or anything else. Christine can do little to stop her mother, until she discovers that her three-year-old brother, Ryan, is being drawn into the same dysfunctional web. Now, she resolves to free herself and her brother from their mother.

Most people think of Craig Johnson’s Sheriff Walt Longmire series as distinctively Wyoming. And it is. But as fans can tell you, Longmire’s deputy, Victoria ‘Vic’ Moretti, is a native of Philadelphia, and a former police officer there. She still has connections to the city, too. In fact, the third Longmire novel, Kindness Goes Unpunished, actually takes place there. At one point (in Death Without Company), here’s what Moretti says about herself:
 

‘‘I’m from Philadelphia, where we vote early and often, and everybody on the jury has a vowel on the end of his name.’’
 

Moretti is nothing if not unvarnished…

And I wouldn’t want to do a post on crime fiction in Philadelphia without mentioning Jerry Bruckheimer’s TV series, Cold Case, which aired in the US between 2003 and 2010. The show features a team of Philadelphia homicide detectives whose specialty is re-opening and investigating murder cases that have ‘gone cold.’ There are also, as you can imagine, story arcs about the detectives’ own lives. Admittedly, the show isn’t always – ahem – completely true-to-life. But it has a distinctive setting, and explores several of the different cultures in the city, as well as aspects of the city’s history.

See what I mean? Philadelphia is a vibrant city, rich with history, art, music, good food, top universities and medical facilities, and more. But peaceful? Crime-free? Well, perhaps not…

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is the title of song by Daryl Hall and John Oates.

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Filed under Craig Johnson, Gillian Roberts, Jane Haddam, Jerry Bruckheimer, Lisa Scottoline, Patricia Abbott

With All the Force of a Great Typhoon*

Age often brings with it a certain amount of self-confidence and strength of character. That’s arguably why so many fictional characters we think of as indomitable are also no longer young. They have whatever wisdom experience brings, and they’re no longer overly concerned with what people think of them or their opinions.

Those characters can add a lot to a crime novel. Sometimes they serve as mentors; sometimes they simply add to a context. Either way, they can be very interesting in and of themselves. In some cases, they even steal the limelight, so to speak, from the sleuth or other protagonist. Space won’t permit me to mention all of them; here are just a few. Oh, and you’ll notice I’m specifically not mentioning indomitable sleuths who are no longer young. Too easy.

Agatha Christie included several indomitable characters in her stories. One, for instance, is Princess Natalia Dragomiroff, whom we meet in Murder on the Orient Express. In that novel, Hercule Poirot is en route across Europe on the famous Orient Express train. On the second night of the journey, fellow passenger Samuel Ratchett is stabbed. Poirot is asked to investigate, and he starts looking into the case. The only possible suspects are the other passengers in the same car, and one of those people is Princess Dragomiroff. Here is how one character describes her:
 

‘‘She is a personality…Ugly as sin, but she makes herself felt.’’
 

And she does. She cooperates with the investigation, but it’s clear throughout that she isn’t in the least bit – at all – intimidated by Poirot or by the process.

Tarquin Hall’s sleuth is Delhi PI Vishwas ‘Vish’ Puri.  He owns Most Private Investigators, Ltd., and supervises several employees. He’s not easily threatened or intimidated. But even Puri has learned that it’s often best to defer to his indomitable mother, Mummy-ji. It’s not that she’s particularly autocratic (she’s not), or overbearing. But she has a strong force of will, and isn’t afraid to speak her mind. She’s smart, too. For instance, in one plot thread of The Case of the Man Who Died Laughing, Mummi-ji and her daughter-in-law (Puri’s wife), Rumpi, attend a kitty party. Every guest brings a little money which is pooled. Then one guest’s name is drawn, and that guest wins the money. This party is different, though, because a thief breaks in and steals the money. The quick-thinking Mummy-ji finds a way to scratch the thief, though, and insists that DNA samples be taken of her hand, and prints lifted from her purse, where the money was, so as to identify the robber. And she’s not at all intimidated by the lab attendant who tells her she’s been watching too much crime television.

Anthony Bidulka’s Russell Quant is a Saskatoon PI who’s lucky enough to have several people in his life who care about him. One of them is Anthony Gatt, owner of an extremely successful upmarket men’s clothing company. Gatt isn’t domineering or high-handed. But he has a way of making his presence felt. And he knows everyone who is anyone, especially among Saskatchewan’s gay community. In one scene in Flight of Aquavit, for instance, Quant stops in at one of Gatt’s stores, and Gatt happens to be there. At one point, Gatt says,
 

‘‘I can’t have you in here like that…or at least I can’t have you leaving like that.’’
 

Before Quant knows it, he’s got new clothes. Gatt makes his personality felt in other ways, too, including to mentor Quant.

There’s also Lucian Connally, who features in Craig Johnson’s Sheriff Walt Longmire series. Connally is the former sheriff of Absaroka County, Wyoming. He’s elderly now, but he is still very much a force to be reckoned with. He lives in an elder care home, but he’s by no means intimidated by the staff there. And he’s one of the few people who can get away with telling Longmire what to do, if I can put it that way. He’s got his own past and his own secrets, as we all do, and they come out in a few story arcs. In some ways, he serves as a mentor for Longmire, and he has a good memory. So, he also is a sort of living history of the county.

Emma Viskic’s Resurrection Bay introduces her sleuth, Victoria-based PI Caleb Zelic. In the novel, Zelic and his business partner, Frankie Reynolds, investigate the murder of Senior Constable Gary ‘Gaz’ Marsden. He and Marsden have a long friendship, and he was found with Marsden’s body. So Zelic is very much a ‘person of interest.’ He knows he didn’t commit the murder, and he wants to find out who did. So, he and Reynolds start asking questions. The trail leads to a very dangerous person known only as ‘Scott.’ And the closer he gets to Scott, the more dangerous things become for him. Zelic and his ex-wife, Kat, may be divorced, but they still communicate, and they still do care a lot about each other. This means that Kat, too, is in danger, and that plays its role in the novel. But Kat is not easily intimidated. Nor is her mother, Maria. Both are indomitable people, with powerful personalities. Maria in particular has a way of exerting her personality, although she’s not pushy or rude.

There are plenty of other characters, too, who have that quality of being indomitable. They can add to a story in many ways, and they can certainly be interesting characters. These are just a few examples. Your turn.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Matthew Wilder and David Zippel’s I’ll Make a Man out of You.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Anthony Bidulka, Craig Johnson, Emma Viskic, Tarquin Hall

Lost in the Supermarket*

As this is posted, it’s 101 years since the opening of the first self-service market (a Piggly Wiggly store located in Memphis). Since that time, of course, supermarkets have become fixtures in many places, and there is a good reason for that. It’s a lot more efficient to buy all of one’s food products (and often a lot more, too) in one place. Supermarket chains can buy in bulk, too, and that can reduce prices for the consumer.

Because they’re such integral parts of today’s shopping landscape, we shouldn’t be surprised that there are a lot of supermarkets in crime fiction. They’re really effective settings for meetings between characters, for creating a sense of setting and atmosphere, and more. And they can even be suspenseful.

But they haven’t always been welcome. For instance, in Agatha Christie’s The Mirror Crack’d From Side to Side, Miss Marple investigates the murder of Heather Badcock, who is poisoned during a fête. The victim and her husband live in the then-new council housing in the village of St. Mary Mead, and the that’s only one of the changes that’s come to the town. The supermarket is another. Here’s what Miss Hartnall, one of the villagers, says about it:
 

‘‘All these great packets of breakfast cereal instead of cooking a child a proper breakfast of bacon and eggs. And you’re expected to take a basket round yourself and go looking for things – it takes a quarter of an hour sometimes to find all one wants – and usually made up of inconvenient sizes, too much or too little. And then a long queue waiting to pay as you go out. Most tiring.’’
 

Admittedly, the new supermarket isn’t the reason for Heather Badcock’s murder. But Miss Hartnall offers an interesting perspective on this major change in shopping.

Ira Levin’s The Stepford Wives takes place mostly in the fictional small town of Stepford, Connecticut. Joanna and Walter Eberhart and their two children have moved there from New York City, in order to take advantage of lower taxes, less expensive housing, and better schools. All goes well at first. But Joanna soon notices that none of the other women in town seem to have outside interests; they all seem to be completely involved in their homes and domesticity. One day, for instance, she’s at Center Market, the local supermarket:
 

‘Joanna looked…into the cart of another woman going slowly past her. My God, she thought, they even fill their carts neatly. And she looked at her own: a jumble of boxes and cans and jars. A guilty impulse to put it in order prodded her, but I’m damned if I will, she thought…’
 

At first, it just seems like an oddity. But slowly, Joanna and her new best friend, Bobbie Markowe, begin to suspect that something is very, very wrong in Stepford. And they turn out to be right.

In a similar vein, science fiction writer Zack Walker decides to move his family to the suburb of Valley Forest Estates in Linwood Barclay’s Bad Move. Walker’s convinced that the suburbs are safer, and persuades his wife, Sarah, to fall in with his plans. Things don’t work out as he thought, though. For one thing, the new home they’ve bought needs several repairs. When Walker goes to the sales office of the housing development, he witnesses a loud argument between one of the sales executives and local environmentalist Samuel Spender. Later, he finds Spender’s body near a local creek. Now, he’s unwittingly mixed up in that murder. As if that’s not enough, he and Sarah go to a grocery store one day. They’re leaving the store, when he sees a handbag left behind in a shopping cart. Thinking it’s his wife’s, Walker takes it and stashes it in the car. Then, Sarah produces her own handbag. Walker’s decisions about what to do next draw him even more deeply into some dark things going on in Valley Forest Estates.

Craig Johnson’s Sheriff Walt Longmire finds an innovative use for a local supermarket in Death Without Company. In one small plot thread of the novel, he needs to find enough people to serve as jurors for an upcoming series of hearings. So, he instructs his deputy, Victoria ‘Vic’ Moretti, to wait outside the supermarket and ‘collect’ shoppers to serve as talis jurors:
 

‘I watched as my…deputy accosted a middle-aged man…copied down information from his driver’s license and informed him that he needed to get over to the courthouse pronto or be faced with contempt of court. ‘Well, there’s another notch on my Glock…’’ ‘Hey, there are worse places for stakeouts. At least we’ve got plenty of supplies.’’
 

It’s a very practicable solution to the jury-pool problem, even if it does interrupt the day for several shoppers.

And then there’s Håkan Östlundh’s The Intruder. In that novel, Malin Andersson, her husband Henrik Kjellander, and their two children, Ellen and Axel, return to their home on the Swedish island of Fårö after a two-month absence. When they get to the house, they see that the tenants who’ve been staying there have made a huge mess. What’s worse, several family photographs have been deliberately disfigured. It’s unsettling, and Malin calls the police. There’s not much they can do at first, other than take down the details, but police detective Fredrik Bronan and his team promise to look into the matter. Then one day, Malin is in the local supermarket, when she gets the strong feeling that she’s being followed. She looks around quickly, but doesn’t see anyone. And the store employees aren’t much help. But this seems related to the damage to the house, and to a previous incident in which Malin noticed a stranger watching her as she dropped her children off at their schools. Then, other, more ominous things happen. Now, Bronan and his team take this threat seriously. They’ll have to find out who’s targeted the family and why before anyone is seriously hurt or worse.

See what I mean? Supermarkets are woven into our lives. So it’s little wonder they’re also woven into crime fiction.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is the title of a song by the Clash.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Craig Johnson, Håkan Östlundh, Ira Levin, Linwood Barclay

Nothing Could be Longer Than that Corrugated Road*

There’s plenty of crime in cities and suburbia. We see it on the news, and we read about it in crime fiction, too. Large city police forces certainly have their hands full, and I’m sure you could list dozens and dozens of big-city crime novels and series.

It’s interesting to contrast that sort of work with the work of a very rural police officer or other law enforcement officer. There’s crime in both cases – sometimes horrible crime – and, like their counterparts in cities, rural law enforcement officers have to do things like file paperwork, interview witnesses, look for evidence, and so on. But there are differences, too.

Rural law enforcement people are often spread thinner, as the saying goes. So, it helps if they’re familiar with the land. In some cases, they also have to be very much aware of weather patterns and other natural phenomena. And they tend to know the people they serve quite well, since there are usually far fewer of them. There are other differences, too. And it’s interesting to see how rural law enforcement plays out in crime fiction.

For example, Arthur Upfield’s Inspector Napoleon ‘Bony’ Bonaparte works with the Queensland Police. But, as fans can tell you, he certainly doesn’t stay in Brisbane. His territory is large, and lots of it is very rural. So, he’s learned to read ‘the Book of the Bush.’ He understands weather patterns, animal traces, and so on. And he gets to know both the Aboriginal groups he meets and the whites who live in the tiny towns and ranches in the area. He’s learned to pay attention, too, to the stories and gossip he hears. Word spreads, so he’s often able to learn about an area’s history and legends. That helps him, too.

Adrian Hyland’s Emily Tempest grew up in Moonlight Downs, a very rural Aboriginal community in the Northern Territory. She left for school and travel, but returns in Diamond Dove (AKA Moonlight Downs). And, in Gunshot Road, she begins a new job as an ACPO (Aboriginal Community Police Officer). In both novels, she shows her deep understanding of the land, the weather, and other natural phenomena. We also see how connected she is to the people she serves. She knows, or at least has heard of, practically everyone, even though people are very spread out in her territory. Most of the people in the area know her, too, and trust her, since she’s ‘one of them.’ That relationship means that she’s able to get information that people aren’t always willing to give to the police.

A similar thing might be said of Tony Hillerman’s Jim Chee and Joe Leaphorn. They are members of the Navajo Nation. They are also members of the Navajo Tribal Police. Most members of the Navajo community live in a very spread-out, rural area of the Southwest US. Chee and Leaphorn cover an awful lot of territory in their investigations, and some of that land is unforgiving, so both have learned to respect it. They understand weather patterns and other phenomena, and they’re smart enough not to take risks they don’t have to take. Members of the Navajo community know each other, or at least know of each other. In fact, there are complicated links among various Navajo clans. So, there’s less anonymity, even in such a sparsely populated area, than there is in some large cities. And Chee and Leaphorn take advantage of the way word spreads. You’re quite right, fans of Stan Jones’ Nathan Active series, and of Scott Young’s Matthew ‘Matteesie’ Kitologitak novels. We see a similar situation in Alaska and in Canada’s far northern places.

And it’s not always in the far north of Canada, either. For example, Michael Redhill/Inger Ash Wolfe’s Detective Inspector (DI) Hazel Micallef series takes place in fictional Port Dundas, Ontario. Micallef and her team cover a wide area that’s mostly rural and small-town. It’s not a big department, and they don’t have access to a lot of resources. But they make do, as best they can, with what they have. One of their advantages is that people know each other. For instance, Micallef’s mother, Emily, is a former mayor of Port Dundas. So, she’s well aware of the area’s social networks. So are most of the members of Micallef’s police team. And they use those networks to get information. Things can get awkward, as they do when you work in the same town where you grew up. But Micallef and her team also use that familiarity to their advantage.

So does Craig Johnson’s Walt Longmire (oh, come on – you knew I couldn’t do a piece about rural law enforcement without mentioning him). He’s the sheriff of fictional Absaroka County, Wyoming. While he’s based in the small town of Durant, he does more than his share of travel throughout the mostly rural county. As fans can tell you, Longmire has learned to be respectful of the weather conditions, natural forces and climate in the area. It can be a harsh place to live and work, especially in the winter. But Longmire knows the tricks of survival. He also knows the value of all of the networks of rural communication. Because it’s a sparsely-populated area, there’s sometimes a lot of travel between places. So, Longmire has learned to make use of those social networks. He knows that people – even people who don’t live close by – congregate at places like the Red Pony (a local bar/restaurant) and the Busy Bee Café. So, he listens to what he hears in those places. That helps him make the most efficient use of his travel efforts.

And that’s the way it is for a lot of rural law enforcement characters. It’s quite a different form of policing to what goes on in large towns, suburbs, and cities. And it’s important work, too. Anyone who says crime doesn’t happen in rural areas hasn’t read much crime fiction (right, fans of Bill Crider’s Sheriff Dan Rhodes novels?)…

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Midnight Oil’s Gunbarrel Highway.

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Filed under Adrian Hyland, Arthur Upfield, Bill Crider, Craig Johnson, Inger Ash Wolfe, Michael Redhill, Scott Young, Stan Jones, Tony Hillerman

He Knows Everyone*

hubsIn many smaller towns and villages, there’s a person who seems to be at the town’s hub. That person isn’t necessarily wealthy, or a law enforcement leader, or a political leader. But everyone knows that person. And, when there’s a crime in the area, that’s the person who’s likely to know the most about what’s going on in town.

In crime fiction, that person may be the sleuth, but doesn’t really have to be. Wise fictional sleuths know that making an ally of the town ‘hub’ is a very good idea, whether or not that person has any authority. And ignoring that person is almost always a mistake.

One of Agatha Christie’s sleuths, Jane Marple, is exactly that sort of person. She’s not a mayor, or in the police, or a church leader. But everyone in her village of St. Mary Mead knows her, and most respect her. She finds out just about everything that’s happening in town, and it’s not always because she’s – ahem – inquisitive. People connect with her. Christie wrote other characters like that, too (I’m thinking, for instance, of Johnnie Summerhayes in Mrs. McGinty’s Dead).

In Friedrich Glauser’s Thumbprint, Sgt. Jacob Studer of the Bern Cantonal Police is faced with a difficult case. Traveling salesman Wendelin Witschi has been shot, and Erwin Schumpf is in prison for the crime. He’s despondent, and in fact, tries to commit suicide. Studer happens to visit him in prison just in time to prevent the suicide, and gets more of an opportunity to talk to him. Although Studer was the arresting officer, he’s got a sort of liking for Schumpf, and starts to wonder whether someone else might have killed the victim. So, he begins to ask questions. He visits the town of Gerzenstein, where the Witschi family lives, and follows up on some leads. This is a small town, the sort of place where everyone knows everyone else. And one of the leaders of the town is its mayor, Emil Aeschbacher. It’s not very long before Studer discovers that if he’s going to make any headway in this case, he’s going to have to do so with Aeschbacher’s support. He seems to know everything, and be a part of everything, in town. And as the novel goes on, it’s interesting to see how his influence works.

In Dorothy Sayers’ The Nine Tailors, we are introduced to Reverend Theodore Venables, vicar at St. Paul’s in the East Anglia town of Fenchurch St. Paul’s. When Lord Peter Wimsey and his valet, Mervyn Bunter, have a car accident not far from the village, it’s Venables who rescues them, and invites them to stay at the rectory until their car can be repaired. Wimsey and Bunter gratefully agree, and settle in. In exchange, Wimsey offers to take part in the church’s New Year’s Eve change-ringing, to replace one of the ringers who’s fallen ill. Venables is glad for the help, and all goes well. That encounter ends up drawing Wimsey into a complicated mystery involving an extra body in a grave, missing emeralds, and a few deaths. Throughout the novel, we see how important Venables is to the town. The locals know him and trust him, and when the town is threatened by a flood, he’s the one they turn to for guidance. And he’s the one who does everything possible to save his parishioners.

One of Rita Mae Brown’s series features Mary Minor ‘Harry’ Harristeen. As the series begins, she is the postmistress of the small town of Crozet, Virginia. She hears a lot and she knows everyone in town. What’s interesting, too, about Harry is that she comes from an old Virginia family, one that’s been in the area as long as anyone can remember. And she herself has lived in Crozet all her life. So, although she’s not wealthy, and not at all pretentious, Harry is considered one of the area’s elite. She gets invited to the ‘right’ events, and so on. That status makes her a credible amateur sleuth, since she has access to people and information that someone with less status might not have.

And then there’s Craig Johnson’s Dorothy Caldwell, who presides over one of Durant, Wyoming’s social hubs, the Busy Bee Café. She’s not Johnson’s sleuth – that would be Absaroka County Sheriff Walt Longmire. But she does know everyone in town, and she hears just about everything that happens. People like her and trust her because she belongs, if I may put it that way. And Longmire knows that she’s a valuable resource, and not just for eggs and pancakes. Another ‘hub’ in this series is Henry Standing Bear, Longmire’s long-time close friend, and proprietor of the Red Pony Inn. That means he’s gotten to know just about everyone in the Durant area. And people know him, too, and talk to him. He’s also a member of the Cheyenne Nation, so he knows everyone in that community as well. Longmire has learned that Henry Standing Bear isn’t just a good friend; he’s also a really helpful source of insight.

There’s also Anya Lipska’s Janusz Kiszka. He emigrated from Poland to London, and has more or less established himself there. Although he doesn’t have an official leadership position, he has become known as a ‘fixer’ – someone who can get things done. He’s well known in London’s Polish community, and people trust him to help them solve their problems. He knows the other members of the community, too, and is a ‘hub’ within it.

And that’s how it is with many people who are at the hub of social groups. They may not be rich, have a lot of authority, or an important title. But they are integral to their communities. Fictional sleuths do well to pay heed to them.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from the Kaiser Chiefs’ Cousin in the Bronx.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Anya Lipska, Craig Johnson, Dorothy Sayers, Friedrich Glauser, Rita Mae Brown