Category Archives: D.S. Nelson

Just One More Link to the Chain*

Whenever the police are faced with multiple murders, especially similar sorts of murders, they try to look for links among the victims. There’s almost always some connection among the victims, and if the police can find that link, they can often also find the killer. So, part of investigating multiple murders is tracing the victims’ last days and weeks to see if there’s a common thread.

We see that part of a police investigation in lots of crime fiction – more than there is space for me mention here. But a few examples should suffice to show how the sleuth goes about trying to find those links. And sometimes, they are surprising.

In Agatha Christie’s The ABC Murders, for instance, Hercule Poirot begins to receive a series of cryptic notes, warning him of murders that will occur, and giving the name of the town where the killing will take place. Not long after each letter, there is a murder, and a body discovered, in the town the killer has mentioned. An ABC railway guide is discovered near each body, but that clue isn’t very helpful. And nothing else, other than the letters to Poirot, seems to link the victims. They didn’t know each other, they didn’t live in the same place or go to the same school. It creates a very difficult puzzle for Poirot and the police. In the end, though, Poirot discovers what really links the murders. Once he does, he knows who committed them.

Gail Bowen’s The Wandering Soul Murders features her sleuth, academician and political scientist Joanne Kilbourn. In the novel, Kilbourn’s daughter, Mieka, discovers the body of Bernice Morin in a city trash bin. At first, the police think that Bernice was killed by someone the police have dubbed the ‘Little Flower’ killer. But then, there’s another tragedy. Theresa Desjalier, the former girlfriend of Kilbourn’s son, Peter, dies in what looks like a drowning accident. That death turns out to be murder, though, and it’s linked to Bernice’s murder, as well as to other incidents in the novel. Once Kilbourn discovers what links everything, she’s able to get to the root of some very dark truths.

In Jørn Lier Horst’s Dregs, Chief Inspector William Wisting and his team are faced with a baffling case. A left foot clad in a training shoe has washed ashore near the Norwegian town of Stevern. Very soon afterwards, another foot is discovered. Then another. Very soon, all sorts of wild speculations start to circulate, including the possibility that a psychopathic serial killer is stalking the area. There are other possibilities, too, none of which put the local residents at ease. The police try to link the deaths by searching missing person reports. They discover that three of the four missing people were connected with a local elder care facility. The fourth lived in a house that belonged to another resident who died just before the others went missing.  It’s soon clear that these people are somehow linked to the missing feet, and Wisting and his team work to find out what, exactly, is the history behind these deaths.

Carin Gerhardsen’s The Gingerbread House is the story of a series of deaths, and the link among them. The first is of successful real-estate broker Hans Vannerberg. The second is of a prostitute named Ann-Kristin Widell. Then, Lise-Lott Nilsson, a working-class homemaker, is murdered. Stockholm Chief Inspector Conny Sjöberg and his team believe that the murders might be linked; but on the surface, the victims have nothing in common. Then, it comes out that all of the victims were forty-four years old. That doesn’t seem to make sense as a motive or link, but Sjöberg has to start somewhere. Gradually, the victim’s lives are traced, and the team members discover what links them. And that leads to the killer.

In D.S. Nelson’s Model For Murder, retired milliner Blake Heatherington gets involved in a bizarre series of murders in the village of Tuesbury. First, newsagent Harold Slater is murdered. Then, Mr. Davies, the greengrocer; James Dockerty, the local bookie; Albert Pane, the baker; and Mr. Rawlinson, the butcher, are also killed. None of the victims seemed to have enemies, and none had a fortune to leave. So, at first, there doesn’t seem to be any motive. And, although all of the victims had local businesses, there wasn’t anything else that really linked them. Is it possible that someone is targeting the village? It doesn’t seem likely, since other business owners are not killed. What’s more, these killings do not seem haphazard. Tuesbury takes great pride in its miniature ‘model village.’ But someone seems to be defacing it. Before each murder, a cross is marked on the miniature of that victim’s business on the model village. And the statuette representing each victim goes missing. Heatherington is sure that something links those victims, and he slowly begins to put the pieces together. Oh, and I have it good authority that Blake Heatherington will be back in another mystery…

Medical thrillers such as Michael Palmer’s and Robin Cook’s often feature plots that focus on finding a link among medical cases. And that makes sense, since that’s what real-life medical experts do when they’re trying to find and stop outbreaks of illness. If the sleuth can find out what the victims of an illness have in common (e.g. where they ate, where they stayed), then the cause of the illness is easier to identify, and other deaths might be prevented. And if the deaths are deliberate, then the person responsible can be caught.

Finding the link or links among a set of victims can be difficult. And sometimes, the real link isn’t apparent right away. But it can be the key to solving the mystery when the sleuth is looking into multiple deaths.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from The Alarm’s Tell Me.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Carin Gerhardsen, D.S. Nelson, Gail Bowen, Jørn Lier Horst, Michael Palmer, Robin Cook

When Enid Blyton Proved Lots of Fun*

As this is posted, it would have been Enid Blyton’s 120th birthday. As you’ll know, Blyton was one of the most prolific and successful writer of children’s stories of her time. If you grew up reading the Famous Five series, or the Five Find-Outer series, or the Secret Seven series, you’ll know that she created a number of memorable characters and adventures. And generations of children began a lifelong love of books and of crime fiction because of her writing. Blyton certainly wasn’t the first to create young protagonists, or series of books written for children. But she drew in millions of young people, and her books are still very popular.

Many people have been critical of Blyton’s work, pointing out sexism and xenophobia in her stories. That criticism has, of course, been levelled at several other authors of her time, and it’s hard to separate an author from the era in which she or he writes. That said, though, it’s hard to deny Blyton’s influence on children’s fiction.

Today’s children’s mystery fiction is as diverse and varied as its adult counterpart. And it features a wide range of young protagonists. For instance, David Adler has created several series for young people. One is the Cam Jansen series. These books feature Jennifer ‘Cam’ Jansen, so-called because of her photographic memory. A Grade Five student, she and her best friend, Eric, solve mysteries with the help of her ability to remember what she’s seen. Another Adler series features Cam as a younger child. Adler has written several other series for young readers as well.

Bill Galvan and Chad Denton have created a comic series called the Scrapyard Detectives. This series features a group of five young sleuths who meet regularly at a local scrapyard. Each of them has a different background, and brings a different sort of expertise to the team. Robert (whose father owns the scrapyard) is the ‘idea person;’ Jinn Lee has a knack for putting together pieces of a mystery puzzle; Lisan does background research; and so on. One purpose of the series is to promote multiculturalism. But there are also mysteries to be solved. And, speaking personally (I’ve used these in some work I’ve done), the focus is at least as much on the mysteries as it is on messages to be sent. And that works well for young readers, who don’t want to be preached to any more than most adults want it.

Nancy Springer’s Enola Holmes series features the fourteen-year-old younger sister of Sherlock Holmes. The series is a pastiche series, so there are plenty of ‘crossover characters’ from the original Arthur Conan Doyle series. But at the same time, this series’ focus is Enola and the cases that she solves. It’s intended for the middle grades, and it’s an interesting ‘bridge’ to the original Holmes stories.

Writing as Lewis B. Montgomery, Mara Rockliff has created a children’s mystery series featuring Milo and his friend Jasmyne ‘Jazz,’ who are detectives in training. They’ve sent away for a Super Sleuth kit from expert detective Dash Marlowe, who gives them long-distance advice on sleuthing. This series is aimed at beginning readers from ages 7-11, and includes ‘asides’ to the reader to help young people learn deduction, logical thinking, and some academic skills, too.

There’s also Fireside Books’ Leaders and Legacies series. These stories feature Canada’s prime ministers as young sleuths, so readers get to solve mysteries along with the protagonists. They also learn a bit about the history of the country, and about the prime ministers themselves.

Of course, not all mystery books for children are in series, as many of Blyton’s were. There are plenty of standalone mysteries out there. And they’re available for even the youngest readers. For example, there’s Herbert Yee Wong’s Detective Small in the Amazing Banana Caper, and James and Kimberly Dean’s Pete the Cat and the Missing Cupcakes. Both of those (and plenty more) are picture books, so that young people can be drawn into the mystery, even if they’re just starting to read.

What about little ones who aren’t quite ready to read yet? There are great resources out there for them, too. For example, you may not know this, but crime writer D.S. Nelson is an expert children’s storyteller. You can visit her website right here and get to know her work. She’s also created a series of fun and engaging mini-mysteries featuring Hugo the detective dog. You can watch them right here. Storytelling can be a very effective way to introduce children to stories and, later, books. Add in a mystery, and you can hook a child on crime fiction for life. Crime writers everywhere will thank you for that.

Did you grow up with Enid Blyton? If you did, what are your Blyton memories? If you didn’t, what are your first memories of cracking fictional cases?

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from the Undertones’ What’s With Terry?

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Filed under Bill Galvan, Chad Denton, D.S. Nelson, David Adler, Enid Blyton, Herbert Yee Wong, James Dean, Kimberly Dean, Lewis B. Montgomery, Mara Rockliff, Nancy Springer

Smokin’ Cigarettes and Writing Something Nasty on the Wall*

When most of us think of crimes, especially those featured in crime novels, we think of murder, rape, and other serious wrongdoing. And those are horrible things. But there are other crimes, too; and, although they’re usually considered less serious, they can be annoying at the least, and frightening at worst. One of those crimes is vandalism. If you’ve ever had your home or car spray-painted, you know what I mean. There are other forms of vandalism, too, that I’m sure you’ve seen, even if they haven’t happened to you.

Vandalism plays a role in crime fiction, too. Sometimes it’s meant to serve as a warning to the sleuth (or a victim). Other times, it’s separate, but related to the overall premise of a book. Either way, it can add tension (and sometimes clues) to a story.

For instance, in Dorothy L. Sayers’ Gaudy Night, mystery novelist Harriet Vane returns to her alma mater, Shrewsbury College, Oxford, at the request of the dean. It seems there’ve been some disturbing incidents of vandalism at the school, among other events. The school administrators don’t want to call in the police, but they do want the person responsible to be stopped. So, Vane agrees to see what she can do, and goes to the university under the pretext of doing research for a new novel. What she finds is that someone has a serious grudge, and is determined to commit sabotage. With help from Lord Peter Wimsey, Vane discovers who the person is, and how these incidents are connected to the past.

Gail Bowen’s A Killing Spring features her sleuth, Joanne Kilbourn. At the time this novel takes place, she’s an academician and political scientist. In one plot thread of the novel, someone has spray-painted anti-gay slogans and slurs on part of the campus of her university. Those areas have to be closed off so that they can be cleaned and repaired. And that means that some of the faculty members have to take up temporary residence elsewhere. So, Kilbourn agrees to share her office with her colleague Ed Mariani for the time being. That makes some real tension when both get caught up in the mystery surrounding the murder of another colleague, Reed Gallagher.

In Tony Hillerman’s The Dark Wind, Navajo Tribal Police officer Delbert Nez has been trying to catch the person responsible for a spate of spray-painting. He thinks he has his perpetrator one day and goes on the hunt. While he’s out on the road, he’s shot, and his car is burned. The most likely suspect is Ashie Pinto, who’s found nearby with the murder weapon and a bottle of alcohol (presumably used in the burning). Sergeant Jim Chee, who was a friend of Nez’, is determined to catch his killer, and sees no reason not to arrest Pinto. And in fact, Pinto does nothing to defend himself. But, he does have the right to a fair hearing, and Janet Pete, of the Navajo People’s Legal Service (Dinébe’iiná Náhiiłna be Agha’diit’ahii (DNA)) is sent to be sure that’s what happens. As it turns out, there’s much more going on here than it seems on the surface. Fans of Hillerman’s novels will know that The Dark Wind also includes some episodes of vandalism that end up being linked to a case that involves smuggling and murder.

In Christopher Fowler’s Seventy-Seven Clocks, a strange man dressed in Edwardian clothes visits London’s National Gallery. While he’s there, he throws acid on John William Waterhouse’s The Favourites of the Emperor Honorius.  It seems to be a deliberate choice of painting, too. To make matters worse, the damaged art was on loan from the Australian government, so the very tricky matter of international relations is also involved. It’s certainly a strange crime, so it’s handed to the Peculiar Crimes Unit (PCU) run by Arthur Bryant and John May. And it turns out to be connected to an equally strange murder they’re investigating.

In one plot thread of Peter James’ Not Dead Yet, Brighton and Hove Superintendent Roy Grace learns that a man named Amis Smallbone is about to be released from prison. He’s not too happy about it, because Smallbone is,
 

‘…the nastiest and most malevolent piece of vermin he had ever dealt with.’
 

But there’s not much he can do. Then, Grace’s partner, Cleo Morey, finds that her car has been sabotaged, and a taunting sign left on it. Grace assumes that Smallbone’s responsible, and he acts on that. But is he right?

Meg Gardiner introduces science fiction author and legal researcher Evan Delaney in China Lake. In that novel, Delaney goes up against a fanatic religious group called the Remnant. She’s shocked to learn that her former sister-in-law, Tabitha, is now a member of the group. She left Delaney’s brother, Brian, and their six-year-old son, Luke, and the loss was devastating for the whole family. Now, she’s back, and she wants Luke. And the Remnant is prepared to do whatever it takes to help her get the boy. The group tries to intimidate the Delaneys with threats and vandalism. When that’s not successful, they get more dangerous. And Delaney soon learns that they have plans that go far beyond taking Luke away from his father.

And then there’s D.S. Nelson’s Model For Murder. Blake Heatherington has retired from his London millinery shop to the village of Tuesbury, where he still makes the occasional special-order hat. One of the sources of pride in town is a model village that depicts the various businesses and other buildings. One day, newsagent Harold Salter is killed, and his body found in a local wood. Strangely enough, there’s a cross marked on the model newsagent’s, and figure that represents Salter goes missing. Then, there’s another murder, also of a local business owner. Again, the model business is marked with a cross, and the figure goes missing. It seems that these murders might be connected with the Vodou beliefs of many people from Haiti and Jamaica. But Heatherington learns that the killings have nothing to do with religion or spirituality. Instead, they’re linked to a past event.

Vandalism can take many different forms, and it’s distressing, no matter what sort it is. But in crime fiction, vandalism can add an interesting ‘wrinkle’ to a story. And it can serve as a clue or ‘red herring.’

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Stevie Wonder’s I Wish.

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Filed under Christopher Fowler, D.S. Nelson, Gail Bowen, Meg Gardiner, Peter James, Tony Hillerman

I Never Tire of Legends Grown*

As this is posted, it’s the 120th anniversary of the publication of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Of course, stories of vampires have been told since long before Stoker came along. And since that time, the vampire has become enshrined in popular culture.

What is it about folktales like the vampire that capture people’s imagination? I’m not a cultural anthropologist, so I can’t give a sophisticated, informed answer. But part of the explanation may lie in human curiosity. We like to understand our world, and certain folk tales may explain certain phenomena. Then, too, the scarier stories have been used as ways to discipline children and teach them the mores of their society (e.g. ‘You’d better come inside when I tell you or La Llorona will get you! [This refers to a South American/Mexican legend about a ghost who goes searching for her children. You can read a version of it here]).

Whatever the reason, those folk legends are woven into the history of many cultures. And we see them in crime fiction, too, and not just in speculative or fantasy stories. People’s belief in such folktales finds its way into more conventional stories, too.

For instance, in Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Hound of the Baskervilles, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson investigate the death of Sir Charles Baskerville, whose body was found in a park on the family property, Baskerville Hall. The legend in the area is that there is a phantom hound that haunts the Baskerville family, and has for many generations. It’s that hound that has caused Sir Charles’ death. But Holmes doesn’t believe in phantoms or other folktales. He is convinced only by logic and science. He’s unable to leave London at the moment, so he sends Watson to Baskerville Hall to start looking into the matter. Later, he joins his friend there. They find that there is a very prosaic explanation for Sir Charles’ death, and that it has nothing to do with legends or curses.

Some folktales are told about real people. For example, in Tony Hillerman’s Hunting Badger, there’s a robbery of a Ute casino, and the thieves get away with a large haul. Officer Teddy Bai is suspected of being an ‘inside operator,’ working with the gang. But Navajo Tribal Police Officer Bernadette ‘Bernie’ Manuelito doesn’t think so. She asks Sergeant Jim Chee to help find out the truth. And that truth turns out to be connected to a Ute legend about a man named Ironhand. It seems that Ironhand was able to almost magically steal Navajo sheep and escape without ever being caught. Stories were told among the Ute about him and his descendants, and those stories turn out to be quite useful to Chee and (now-retired) Lieutenant Joe Leaphorn as they look into the case.

Andrew Nette’s Ghost Money features Australian ex-cop Max Quinlan, who’s turned private investigator. Madeleine Avery hires Quinlan to find her brother, Charles, who’s gone missing from his home in Bangkok. Quinlan travels to Bangkok, and visits Avery’s apartment. There, he finds the body of Avery’s business partner, Robert Lee. There’s no sign of Avery, but Quinlan finds evidence that his quarry has gone on to Cambodia. With help from journalist’s assistant Heng Sarin, Quinlan traces Avery to the north of Cambodia. There, he learns of a legend about spirits who haunt that part of the country, and who capture humans. That folk tale helps Quinlan and Sarin find out the truth about what happened to Avery, and where he is now.

I’m sure you’ve heard legends of mermaids. One of Hans Christian Andersen’s most famous stories is about one. And there are all sorts of other mermaid stories told by sailors and other people who’ve been out on the sea. Mermaids even swim their way into Sharon Bolton’s A Dark and Twisted Tide. In that novel, Detective Constable (DC) Lacey Flint is working with the Marine Unit, where she’s looking forward to less-stressful police work, such as checking for boat licenses and warning people about unsafe conditions on the Thames, and so on. Everything changes, though, when she discovers the body of an unknown woman in the river. The victim is probably Middle Eastern or South Asian, but she has no ID, and it’s going to be very hard to trace her identity, let alone find out who killed her or why. Once the woman’s death is classified as a homicide, Flint works with Detective Inspector (DI) Dana Tulloch and her team at the Met to find out the truth about this murder. Mermaids aren’t responsible for murdering the victim. But the legend of people who are half-fish, half-human play a role in the novel.

And then there’s D.S. Nelson’s Model For Murder. Nelson’s sleuth is retired milliner Blake Heatherington, who lives in the village of Tuesbury. One of the sources of pride in town is a small model village that depicts the various businesses and buildings. One day, newsagent Harold Slater is murdered, and his body found in a local wood. Then it’s discovered that there’s a cross painted on the model newsagent, and the figure representing Slater is missing. And that’s just the first murder that’s marked in the model. There are signs that these murders might be connected with the Vodou beliefs of many people in Jamaica and Haiti. As it turns out, the murders are not caused by religion or even spirituality. They have a more prosaic motive. But there are some interesting discussions in the novel about the differences between traditional Vodou and many of the folk tales associated with it. For example, there’s a mention of Juju dolls, which have become the stuff of folklore. And there’s even a word or two about zombies. Nelson doesn’t go into any description, but I don’t have to tell you how folktales of ‘undead’ corpses have become a part of our culture.

Even people who absolutely don’t believe in the truth of any folktale sometimes enjoy going to see a ‘zombie film,’ or reading a story that involves werewolves or vampires. We humans do seem to enjoy those stories, even though we know a lot of them aren’t true. Little wonder they find their way into crime fiction.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Big Country’s Hold the Heart.

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Filed under Andrew Nette, Arthur Conan Doyle, D.S. Nelson, Sharon Bolton, Tony Hillerman

Bus Driver…Ambulance Man…Ticket Inspector*

occupationIt’s easy enough to imagine scenarios where fictional police detectives and PIs get involved in investigating crimes. So, a series that features a police officer or a PI makes sense and can be quite credible. It’s harder when the protagonist of a crime fiction series is an amateur detective.

Some professions do lend themselves to the role a bit more than others. For instance, there are lots of fictional academics who are amateur detectives. And it’s not hard to imagine scenarios where the sleuth is an academic (ahem – at least I hope it’s not…). The same might be said of fictional members of the clergy or their spouses/partners. Those people hear and see quite a bit, so it makes sense that they’d be involved in fictional investigations. There are also lots of fictional psychologists, medical professionals, attorneys and journalists who are also amateur sleuths. Again, it’s fairly credible that such people would be in a position to encounter and investigate a crime.

But there are some fictional amateur sleuths out there who have more unusual occupations. In those cases, the author has the challenge of creating a believable context for the sleuth. It’s not always easy to do, but some authors have achieved it.

One such sleuth is Rita Mae Brown’s Mary Minor ‘Harry’ Harristeen. When this series begins, Harry is the postmistress for the tiny town of Crozet, Virginia. She also runs a small farm. Later in the series, she steps aside as postmistress, and takes up cultivating a vineyard. This scenario – with Harry as postmistress, and also sleuth – works (at least for me) because it makes sense that, in a small town, people would gather at the post office, pick up their mail, and talk. This puts Harry in a very good position to know a lot about what’s going on. We also learn that her family has been in the area for generations. So, she’s ‘plugged in.’ There are some aspects of the series that aren’t as credible. But a postmistress as sleuth makes sense.

You wouldn’t expect a ticket-taker to be in a position to do sleuthing – at least not credibly – but that’s what happens in Denise Mina’s Garnethill, the first in her Garnethill trilogy. Maureen ‘Marui’ O’Donnell works in a low-paid job as a ticket-taker. She’s emotionally fragile (in fact, she spent some time in a mental health hospital). Still, she’s trying to get her life together. She even has a relationship with Douglas Brodie. He happens to be married, but she’s working on figuring out what she’s going to do. One morning, after a night of drinking, Mauri wakes to find Brodie’s body in her living room. As you can imagine, the police are not satisfied that she isn’t responsible. So, Mauri decides to clear her own name. And that’s the approach Mina takes to making Mauri a believable sleuth, although she’s neither a copper nor a PI.

Eleanor Kuhns’ historical (end of the 18th Century) series features Will Rees. He’s an itinerant weaver, who also has a small piece of property. On the surface of it, weaving isn’t the sort of occupation that would likely put someone in contact with murder. But in A Simple Murder, the first of this series, Kuhns sets up a credible context. In that novel, we learn that Rees is despondent over his first wife’s death. He puts his son, David, in the care of his sister, and goes off, working as a weaver where and when he can. Then, he finds out that David has been sent to a Shaker sect establishment, where he’s being mistreated. Rees rushes to do what he can for his son, only to be on the scene when there’s a murder. And, since the Shakers are a small and tightly-knit community, Rees can’t help but be drawn into the mystery as he tries to re-establish contact with his son. Slowly, as the series goes on, word gets around that Will Rees can find answers. So, he begins to build a reputation.

Kerry Greenwood’s Corinna Chapman is a Melbourne accountant-turned-baker, who lives and works in a large, Roman-style building called Insula. When the series begins (with Earthly Delights), Chapman has no desire to be a sleuth or to solve mysteries. But she gets drawn into investigating a series of heroin overdoses that might not be as accidental as they seem. It all starts when one overdose happens right outside Chapmen’s own bakery. Then, someone starts targeting the people who live in Insula. Chapman wants to find out who that person is, and her new lover, Daniel Cohen (he volunteers for a mobile soup kitchen), wants to find out what’s behind the overdoses. So, they agree to help one another.

There’s also D.S. Nelson’s Blake Heathington. He’s a retired milliner, who’s moved to the village of Tuesbury. You might not think that a milliner would likely come across a lot of bodies. But Heatherinton has a keen eye for his clients, and a good sense of what makes them ‘tick.’ So, in Hats Off to Murder, he becomes more than curious when two of his clients die. There’s no obvious evidence that they were murdered, but some things just don’t add up. Then, a new client, Delilah Delibes, asks for his help tracking down her mother, Flora, who’s gone missing. Heatherington is not a professional sleuth, and doesn’t pretend to have investigative skills. But he is compassionate. And he’s curious. So, he works with Delilah to find out what happened to her mother. And, in the process, he finds out how and why his clients died.

And then there’s Steve Robinson’s Jefferson Tayte, who is a genealogist. His specialty is tracing people’s ancestry, not finding killers. But sometimes, secrets from the past have a way of haunting modern families. So Tayte runs into more than one murder as he searches for his clients’ roots.

For authors who create amateur sleuths, it can be a challenge to create a credible context for those sleuths to ask questions and investigate. When it’s done well, though, it can work. And there really are some interesting occupations out there in crime-fiction land.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from the Clash’s Career Opportunities.

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Filed under D.S. Nelson, Denise Mina, Eleanor Kuhns, Kerry Greenwood, Rita Mae Brown, Steve Robinson