Category Archives: Geraldine Evans

If I Were Truly to Be Myself, I Would Break My Family’s Heart*

Many families have what you might call a family culture. Members are a part of that culture, and live by its values. Sometimes, though, a family member decides not to be a part of the family culture – to be a nonconformist. That can be difficult, since that can cause a rift in a family. But it can add richness to a group, too.

That plot point – the family ‘oddball,’ if you will – can add to a story, as well. There are all sorts of possibilities there for conflict, for a ‘whodunit’ plot, and so on. And there are plenty of examples in crime fiction. Here are just a few.

In Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot’s Christmas (AKA Murder For Christmas and A Holiday For Murder) we are introduced to the Lee family. Patriarch Simeon Lee is both malicious and tyrannical, so no-one in the family enjoys his company. Still, he is also very wealthy, and has a strong personality. So, when he invites his children and their spouses to spend Christmas at the family home, Gorston Hall, no-one refuses the invitation. On Christmas Eve, Lee is murdered in his private room. Hercule Poirot is in the area, spending the holiday with a friend, so he works with Superintendent Sugden to find out who the killer is. As he does, he gets to know the various members of the Lee family. One of them is David Lee, who’s an artist. In many ways, he’s a family nonconformist. He’s not in the family business, like his brother Alfred; and he’s not in a ‘respectable’ line of work, like his brother George, who’s an MP. He doesn’t even physically resemble his siblings, really. And his father makes it clear that he has little but contempt for David. All of this definitely makes David a ‘person of interest’ in the novel.

Leonardo Padura’s Havana Red features Havana police detective Mario Conde. It takes place in 1989, during the full heat of a Caribbean summer. Conde’s been in ‘exile’ in the police bureaucracy; but his boss, Major Antonio Rangel, gives him a reprieve when a delicate murder case comes up. The body of a young man dressed in a woman’s red dress has been discovered in Havana Park. The victim is soon identified as Alexis Arayán, son of powerful and well-connected diplomat Faustino Arayán. Because of Arayán’s position, this case will have to be handled very quietly and carefully. One possibility is that the victim committed suicide, and that’s not out of the question. At that time, and in that place, to be a homosexual (or even perceived as one) brings with it all sorts of awful social consequences. That’s especially true in a family like this one. There’s also the possibility that this was a murder – the hate crime that it seems on the surface. There are other leads, too. In the end, we learn who killed Alexis Arayán. As we do, we also learn about his life, and about what it’s like to be a nonconformist, especially in a high-profile family.

Larry Watson’s Montana 1948 is the story of the Hayden family. The Hayden name is very respected in Mercer County, Montana, and family patriarch Julian Hayden is proud of that. One of his sons, Frank, is a decorated World War II veteran, and the highly-esteemed local doctor. The other son, Wesley, is the local sheriff – also respected. With him live his wife, Gail, and his son, David. Everything changes for the Haydens during one terrible summer. Wesley’s housekeeper, Marie Little Soldier, falls ill with pneumonia. She refuses to have Frank called in, and at first, won’t explain why. Then, she finally admits the reason. For years, Frank has been raping his female patients at the Fort Warren (Sioux) Reservation. No-one ever spoke out because the family is too powerful. Besides, who would believe the story? Then, Marie suddenly dies. At first, it looks like a sudden relapse, although she had been doing better. But there are also hints that it might have been murder. And Frank was seen near the house on the day of Marie’s death. Now, Wesley’s faced with a terrible set of choices. If Marie’s allegations are true, then his brother is a serial rapist. He may be a murderer, too. At the same time, this is Wesley’s brother, and a well-respected doctor. What’s more, Julian Hayden strongly supports Frank. Wesley has to decide whether to conform to the family culture, or arrest his brother. It’s an awful dilemma, and it changes the family permanently.

There are also plenty of fictional sleuths who don’t conform to their family’s culture, and that can present real challenges for them. For instance, there’s Geraldine Evans’ Detective Inspector (DI) Joe Rafferty of the Elmhurst CID in Essex. He’s from a large, working-class Irish family, most of whom have no use for the police. Several, in fact, are involved in somewhat dubious ‘enterprises’ that wouldn’t stand up under scrutiny. Rafferty knows quite well that he’s a nonconformist, and that does make life difficult for him at times:
 

‘His family was the limit, especially as some of them were of the opinion that if they must have a copper in the family, he might at least have the decency to be a bent one.’
 

Unfortunately for his family, he’s not ‘bent.’

Sulari Gentill’s Rowland ‘Rowly’ Sinclair is a member of a very wealthy, ‘blueblood’ New South Wales family. At the time the novels take place (the 1930s), the worldwide Great Depression is in full force, and millions of people are out of work or worse. Families like the Sinclairs, though, are more or less insulated from much of the financial upheaval. They’re aware of what’s going on, and they’re certainly not unaffected. But they are in a good position, and families like that want to keep it that way. Rowly’s brother, Wilfred, has that attitude, and tends to be conservative in his thinking. He’s also conscious of the family’s name and reputation. But Rowly doesn’t conform to that view. He’s got friends in all social categories, and with all sorts of political leanings. It sometimes makes for conflict between the brothers. But it also makes for an interesting dynamic.

There’s also S.J  Rozan’s Chin Ling Wan-ju, who usually goes by the name Lydia Chin. She’s an American-born Chinese PI, who lives and works in New York’s Chinatown. Her mother and siblings live more or less traditional Chinese lives, and their family culture reflects those values. So, as you can imagine, Chin’s mother would like her to find a Chinese husband, marry, and settle down, like a ‘proper’ daughter does. On the one hand, Chin does love and respect her mother, and she appreciates her Chinese culture. She shares some of the beliefs, too. But she is a nonconformist. She is in no rush to find a husband, and she really likes the PI work she does. It all makes for some tense moments, but that nonconformity also adds both to Chin’s character and to the layers of plot.

Characters who don’t conform to the family culture can bring all sorts of trouble on themselves. But they can also be really interesting. And that sort of dynamic can add much to a story or series.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Matthew Wilder and David Zippel’s Reflection. 

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Geraldine Evans, Larry Watson, Leonardo Padura, S.J. Rozan, Sulari Gentill

Who Could Imagine I’d be Wandering So, Far From the Home I Love*

In yesterday’s post, I mentioned how important it is for a lot of parents and other adults to pass on traditions. And it is. That’s how cultures are perpetuated, and many families see those traditions as legacies.

As always happens on this blog, the discussion was a lot more interesting than the post itself. And one of the topics that came up was: what about children who don’t choose to carry on those traditions? It’s a good question, and certainly it’s a plot point in a lot of crime fiction. That makes sense, too, since that choice can add interesting layers of character development (to say nothing of plot threads) to a story.

In Agatha Christie’s After the Funeral (AKA Funerals are Fatal), for instance, we meet the members of the Abernethie family. As the novel begins, family patriarch Richard Abernethie has just died, and his family attends the funeral. Afterwards, they gather at the family home, Enderby, to hear the terms of Abernethie’s will. During the gathering, Abernethie’s younger sister, Cora Lansquenet, blurts out that her brother was murdered. At first, that suggestion is brushed aside. But when she herself is murdered the next day, it seems all too plausible. Mr. Entwhistle, the family attorney, asks Hercule Poirot to look into the case, and Poirot agrees. One of the main motives, of course, would be money, since Abernethie was a wealthy man. So, Mr. Entwhistle tries to find out the different family members’ financial situations. At one point, he has a conversation with Timothy Abernethie, brother of both victims. Here’s what Timothy has to say about the family:
 

‘‘Our father left us all a perfectly reasonable share of his money–that is, if we didn’t want to go into the family concern [a company that makes foot preparations]. I didn’t. I’ve a soul above corn-plasters, Entwhistle!’’
 

Timothy’s choice to break with the family company tradition means he and his wife, Maude, haven’t had as much access to the family fortune. It’s an interesting look at the later consequences of not staying in the family business.

S.J. Rozan’s Chin Ling Wan-ju, who usually goes by Lydia Chin, is a Chinese-American PI, based in New York City. Her family is very traditional, and her mother in particular would like her to settle down, marry a Chinese man, and raise a family, in the traditional Chinese way. But that’s not what Chin wants. For one thing, she hasn’t found a person she wants as a partner, and she would rather make that choice herself. For another, she likes what she does, although no-one in her family approves. She’s good at her job, too. Because she’s multilingual (mostly using English and Cantonese), she can work with a wide variety of clients. And she knows New York City very well. Breaking with family tradition isn’t always easy for Chin, but she’s almost always content with her choice.

Sulari Gentill’s Rowland ‘Rowly’ Sinclair is a member of a wealthy New South Wales family. At the time that this series takes place (the early/mid 1930s), the worldwide Great Depression is in full force, and millions of people are hard-hit.  Plenty of them want major changes in the government and economic systems; some even call for a revolution. The Sinclair family, now headed by Rowly’s older brother, Wilfred, is well-off and politically conservative. Rowly himself isn’t overly interested in politics, but he has plenty of friends on the left, even the far left. And he doesn’t really have a desire to take over the family businesses. Instead, he’s an artist, as are several of his friends. Wilfred doesn’t exactly approve of his brother’s lifestyle, companions, or choices, and he is concerned about the family reputation. Here’s what he says to Rowly about it in A Few Right Thinking Men:
 

‘‘Why can’t you just drink too much like everybody else’s wayward brother?’’
 

For his part, Rowly is mostly content with his choices. He can’t bring himself to agree with Wilfred on politics, and certainly won’t be lectured to about his life. The conflict sometimes leads to tension, and that adds to the plots in this series. It also adds to the characters.

Geraldine Evans’ Detective Inspector (DI) Joe Rafferty works with the Elmurst CID in Essex. He’s hardly perfect, but he’s good at what he does, and he likes police work. That career isn’t what his family would have liked, though. Rafferty comes from a large, Irish working-class family, some of whose members are involved in not-exactly-legal ‘enterprises.’
 

‘His family was the limit, especially as some of them were of the opinion that if they must have a copper in the family, he might at least have the decency to be a bent one.’
 

Rafferty’s career is tolerated, because it’s convenient to have a police officer in the family when you’re arrested. But in many ways, the family would prefer if he had a ‘regular’ sort of working-class job, ‘like everybody else.’

And then there’s Angela Savage’s Rajiv Patel. When we first meet him, in The Half-Child, Patel is helping out in his uncle’s bookshop in the ‘Little India’ section of Bangkok. His family’s plan is for him to spend some time there, then return to his native India, marry someone of whom his family approves, and settle down there. But that’s not what Patel wants. His dream is to see some of the world, to explore. And he wants to start by seeing a great deal more of Thailand than just the small part of Bangkok where others from India live. So, when he meets PI Jayne Keeney, he’s intrigued. She’s an ex-pat Australian who speaks fluent Thai, and who has had her share of travel experiences. And, when he helps her solve the mysterious death of a young volunteer at a children’s home, he sees an opportunity for the sort of interesting life he wants. He ends up becoming her business partner as well as her partner in life.

Sometimes, making the choice to part with family traditions and expectations has really positive consequences. But it’s never easy to do, even in the best of situations. And it can cause plenty of conflict.

Thanks to those of you who suggested this post: I appreciate the ‘food for thought.’

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Jerry Brock and Sheldon Harnick’s Far From the Home I Love.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Angela Savage, Geraldine Evans, S.J. Rozan, Sulari Gentill

Hold My Hand, Don’t Be Afraid*

Everyone feels a little awkward at times. That’s especially true for things like first dates, even if you’ve met the other person before. What will you talk about? What if you don’t enjoy the date? What if you don’t make a good impression? What if you do? That awkwardness and tension can really be unpleasant in real life.

It’s different in fiction. There, that sort of tension can add interest to a story. And we’ve all had that feeling, so it’s easy to identify with characters who face it. It’s possible, too, to weave that first-date awkwardness into a crime novel without detracting from a mystery, and making the story too ‘frothy.’

In Agatha Christie’s Death in the Clouds (AKA Death in the Air), for instance, we are introduced to Jane Grey. She’s a London hairstylist’s assistant who’s just won money in a sweepstakes. She decides to use her winnings for a trip to Le Pinet, as so many of her clients do. One evening at the casino, she happens to meet a young man who uses a bit of sleight-of-hand to be sure she wins at the roulette table. To Jane’s consternation, the same young man happens to be seated across from her on the flight back from Paris to London:
 

‘He was wearing a rather bright periwinkle-blue pullover. Above the pullover, Jane was determined not to look. If she did, she might catch his eye. And that would never do!’
 

Both Jane and the young man, whose name turns out to be Norman Gale, feel very awkward about this odd meeting, and both avoid the sort of eye contact that might lead to conversation. Still, they eventually work their way through it. And they soon find themselves mixed up in a case of murder when another passenger, Marie Morisot, is killed shortly before the plane lands.

Dorothy L. Sayers’ Lord Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane meet for the first time in, of all places, a prison cell. In Strong Poison, we learn that Vane is on trial for the murder of her former lover, Philip Boyes. She claims to be innocent, but there’s considerable evidence against her, and her prospects don’t look particularly good. Wimsey attends the trial and finds himself smitten with her. In fact, he decides to clear her name so that he can marry her. He gets permission to visit her in her cell, but the visit doesn’t exactly go smoothly. She appreciates his wanting to help, but doesn’t see how he can. And she certainly isn’t smitten the way he is. And, of course, there’s the fact that the two are in a prison cell, which isn’t exactly a relaxing place. Still, Vane consents to have Wimsey look into the case, and gives him some information that he needs. And, in the end, Wimsey and some of his friends find out the truth behind Philip Boyes’ death.

Faye Kellerman’s The Ritual Bath introduces her sleuths, Rina Lazarus and Los Angeles homicide detective Peter Decker. The two meet when Decker and his team investigate a rape in the Orthodox Jewish community of Yeshivat Ohavei Torah. It’s possible that this is the work of a serial rapist dubbed ‘The Foothill Rapist,’ but Decker can’t be sure. A security guard, Florence Marley, is hired to ensure everyone’s safety. Then, she is murdered. Now the case has taken on a new dimension, and Decker and his team have a much more complex problem on their hands. In the meantime, he and Rina Lazarus have found they enjoy each other’s company. However, Lazarus is a devoted Orthodox Jew who cannot be involved with anyone not Jewish. Decker, for his part, has no real religion, and Lazarus makes it clear that, to put it bluntly, he has no chance with her. But they do like each other very much. One day, he persuades her to meet him for lunch in a nearby park. It’s not to be a date; it’s simply so he can update her on the case, since she’s involved. It’s a little awkward, since the Orthodox custom is for women not to be alone with men unless they are marriage partners or family members. It takes time for both to get past the strain and awkwardness, but they do. And they find out the truth behind the tragic events in the community.

When Angela Savage’s Bangkok-based PI Jayne Keeney first meets Rajiv Patel (in The Half-Child), Patel is helping his uncle run a local bookshop. Keeney is a reader who especially enjoys crime fiction, so she stops into the shop. The two get to talking:
 

‘That smile again. Jayne looked once more at the letters on his business card. Rajiv Patel was becoming increasingly attractive. She decided to take a chance.
‘Would you like to have coffee with me?’
‘Yes’
They looked at each other, both surprised.’
 

It’s a little awkward for both of them. And it takes time (and some misunderstandings) for them to get to know each other. But that awkwardness adds an interesting layer to the story. And it turns out that Patel is very helpful as Keeney looks into the death of young Australian woman who volunteered at a children’s home before she jumped, or fell, or was pushed, to her death.

And then there’s Geraldine Evans’ Detective Inspector (DI) Joe Rafferty. For much of the series featuring him and his police partner Dafydd Llewellyn, Rafertty is single and wants it that way. If he ever does find a wife, he wants to be the one to decide about it. But that’s not what his mother has in mind. Fans of this series will know that her mission in life is to pair him up with a ‘good Catholic girl.’ And sometimes this makes for some very awkward moments for Rafferty. Still, it makes for an interesting and sometimes fun story arc in the series.

Those first meetings and dates can be very awkward and tense. But they are a part of real life. And they can add to a story.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Styx’s First Time.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Angela Savage, Dorothy L. Sayers, Faye Kellerman, Geraldine Evans

Boy, You’ll Be My Foil*

foilsOne interesting way to show what a character is like is by using a foil. Fictional foils contrast with other characters, so their personalities are more sharply defined. As with anything in crime fiction, foils have to be handled carefully. Otherwise, they can become too cartoonish. But when they’re well-crafted characters in their own right, foils can bring out other characters, and can add a layer of interest to a story. There are plenty of examples of foils in crime fiction; here are just a few.

In Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot’s Christmas (AKA A Holiday For Murder and Murder For Christmas), we are introduced to the Lee family. Family patriarch Simeon Lee decides that he wants his relatives to gather at the family home, Gorston Hall, for Christmas. No-one in the family wants to make the trip; Lee is a malicious, unpleasant old man who takes pleasure in others’ discomfort. But no-one dares to refuse the invitation. On Christmas Eve, Lee is murdered in his private room. Hercule Poirot is staying nearby, and works with the police to find out who the killer is. In this novel, there’s an interesting contrast between two of Simeon Lee’s sons: Alfred and Harry. Alfred’s always been ‘the good son,’ who went into the family business (which he never wanted to do), and who has stayed at the family home to help care for his father. Harry is the wild adventurer, who’s been all over the world, and in trouble more than once. Where Alfred is more reserved and cautious, Harry is extroverted, and he can be witty. Their father knows all too well that Alfred and Harry’s differences will likely lead to conflict; that’s a big part of the reason he invited Harry. And it’s interesting to see how these two serve as foils for each other. You’re absolutely right, fans of Five Little Pigs. There’s an interesting contrast between brothers there, too.

Fans of Reginald Hill’s Dalziel and Pascoe series will know that there are plenty of foils there. To take the most obvious example, we can look at the characters of Superintendent Andy Dalziel and Sergeant (later, Inspector) Peter Pascoe. Where Pascoe is educated, intellectual, and in some ways, highbrow, his boss is the opposite. Dalziel is a brilliant detective, but he doesn’t have a university background or gentrified tastes. They have other differences, too, and Hill used those differences to make them foils for each other. What’s interesting is that Pascoe’s wife, Ellie, also serves as a foil. In her political and social views, she often differs with Dalziel. She resents what she sees as his way of commandeering her husband, too. Part of what makes these characters work as foils is that all of them are well-developed and ‘fleshed out.’ They see one another’s positive traits, too, so their interactions are rich and complex.

Geraldine Evans’ DI Joe Rafferty and DS Dafyd Llewellyn are also police partners who serve as foils for each other. Rafferty has Irish, working-class roots. He’s outgoing, and sometimes tends to jump to conclusions (although he usually isn’t overly rash).  Rafferty sometimes gets drawn into his family’s drama, too. On the other hand, Llewellyn is more intellectual and long-headed, as the saying goes. He’s quiet, and his personal life isn’t complicated in the way that his boss’ is. They’re both smart detectives, and bring complementary strengths to their investigation. And that’s arguably why they make successful foils for each other. They highlight one another’s personalities, and respect each other despite their differences.

And, of course, I don’t think it would be possible to discuss foils in crime fiction without mentioning Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin. As fans know, they are, in many ways, a study in contrasts. Wolfe has a rigid routine and a taste for luxury, and can be both arrogant and temperamental. But he is a brilliant detective, and he has a compassionate side in his way. By contrast, Goodwin is energetic, pragmatic and down-to-earth. He does quite a lot of the ‘legwork’ for his boss, and is an accomplished detective in his own right. He sometimes gets himself into trouble by being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or by wisecracking when that isn’t the safest choice to make. But he is at heart a person of integrity. Wolfe and Goodwin often spar. But they do respect each other, and their skills are complementary. Again, that’s part of what makes them good foils for each other.

If you think about it, foils really don’t have to be characters. Other sorts of contrasts can work, too. For instance, in Daphne du Maurier’s Jamaica Inn, we are introduced to Mary Yellan. As the story begins, she’s on her way from her home village of Helford to stay with her Aunt Patience and Uncle Joss at their establishment, Jamaica Inn. Mary’s mother has recently died, and Mary’s fulfilling a last promise to her by going to her relatives. Du Maurier presents Helford as a start contrast – a foil – for Jamaica Inn:

‘How remote now and perhaps hidden for ever were the shining waters of Helford, the green hills and the sloping valleys, the white cluster of cottages at the water’s edge. It was a gentle rain that fell at Helford…

This was a lashing, pitiless rain that stung the coach, and it soaked into a hard and barren ground.’  
 

The contrast between the two places becomes even more pronounced when Mary arrives at Jamaica Inn. It’s eerie, dilapidated, and lonely. It’s out by itself on the moor, and certainly not the welcoming, friendly place that Helford is. And the differences add to the sense of place in the novel, and the sense of foreboding. And if you’ve read the novel, you know just how dangerous and creepy Jamaica Inn turns out to be.

That’s really one of the most important purposes of foils. They serve to highlight aspects of a place or a character, because they provide contrasts with other characters and places. And that can be an effective to show what a character or a place is like without a lot of verbiage. Which fictional foils have you liked best?

 

ps. The ‘photo is of Jim Hutton (L) and John Hillerman (R), who had the roles, respectively, of Ellery Queen and private investigator/radio host Simon Brimmer in the 1975-76 series. Brimmer sees Queen as a rival, and often serves as his foil in this series, and Hillerman played the role quite well, I think.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Driving With Andy’s Sugar, Sugar.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Daphne du Maurier, Geraldine Evans, Reginald Hill, Rex Stout

Everything She Wants is Everything She Sees*

High MaintenanceYou know the type, I’ll bet. The sort of person who has no problem sending a dish back to the kitchen three times. Or who insists on getting instant service, answers to questions, and so on. Or who absolutely must have the best in clothes, food, or wine (or all of the above). Yes, I’m talking about high-maintenance people. I’m sure we’ve all met folks like that.

High-maintenance people can be the bane of existence for anyone in any sort of service industry. And they don’t tend to endear themselves to others in personal life, either. But they can make for interesting fictional characters. And they can be a ‘gold mine’ of conflict and tension in a crime novel.

Agatha Christie included high maintenance characters in several of her novels. One of them is Timothy Abernethie, whom we meet in After the Funeral (AKA Funerals Are Fatal). He’s the younger brother of patriarch Richard Abernethie, who, at the beginning of the novel, has just died. Timothy is a hypochondriac who really does seem to relish the attention he gets due to his ‘ill health.’ He’s demanding, querulous and petulant, too. When his brother’s will is read, Timothy naturally assumes that he should inherit everything (and it’s quite a fortune), and be trusted to look after the other members of the family. That’s not what happens, though. Instead, the money is divided more or less evenly amongst Richard Abernethie’s relatives, and this infuriates Timothy. But that turns out to be the least of his problems when a suspicion is raised that this death might have been a murder. And when the youngest Abernethie sister, Cora Lansquenet, is murdered, it looks as though someone is determined to get that fortune. The family lawyer, Mr. Entwhistle, asks Hercule Poirot to look into the matter, and he agrees. It turns out to be a very interesting psychological case.

Barbara Neely’s Blanche White has to deal with high maintenance people in more than one of her investigations. She’s a professional housekeeper whose clients often make assumptions about themselves and about her because of their different social classes. They also often make such assumptions because many of them are white, and Blanche is black. On the one hand, she’s learned to manoeuver in that environment. She’s also learned that in subtle but real ways, she’s the one in control. On the other hand, that doesn’t mean she’s immune to the very natural irritation that comes from being treated in a demanding, high-handed way. In Blanche on the Lam, for instance, she ends up taking a temporary housekeeping job with wealthy Grace and Everett. From the moment Blanche begins her new job, Grace treats her with at best, condescension and at worst, complete disrespect. Both Grace and Everett are demanding, high-handed and very particular. The fact that they’re high maintenance isn’t the reason for the two murders that occur in the novel. But it makes for an interesting layer of tension.

In Geraldine Evans’ Dead Before Morning, DI Joe Rafferty and DS Dafyd Llewellyn investigate the murder of a young woman whose body is found on the grounds of the exclusive Elmhurst Sanatorium. Its owner, Dr. Anthony Melville-Briggs, is extremely concerned lest anything happen to the facility’s reputation, and he wants the case solved as quickly as possible. Soon enough, the body is identified as that of a sex worker named Linda Wilks. Once she is identified, the two sleuths trace leads that may link her to her killer. One very good possibility is that Melville-Briggs himself may be responsible, and Rafferty would like nothing better. Melville-Briggs is high-handed, demanding, and rude. He’s also quite high maintenance in that he expects instant results, instant call returns, and so on. It’s actually Llewellyn who has to remind Rafferty that there are other possibilities.

Toronto PI Sasha Jackson doesn’t have it much easier in Jill Edmondson’s Blood and Groom. One day, she gets a visit from Christine Arvisais, who wants to hire Jackson to solve a murder case. It seems that Arvisais’ former fiancé, Gordon Hanes, was shot on the day that would have been their wedding day had the engagement not been broken off. Everyone thinks Arvisais is responsible, but she claims to be innocent. From the beginning, Jackson doesn’t care much at all for this client. She’s rude, overly pampered, snooty, and very high maintenance. In fact, she doesn’t want the case solved because she cares who shot Hanes. She only wants to prove she didn’t. Still, a fee is a fee, and Jackson is just getting started as a PI. So she takes the case and gets started looking for answers. She finds that Hanes’ murder is linked to another murder, and in the process, digs up some shady secrets.

Sometimes, high maintenance goes beyond just spoiled and petulant. For example, in Patricia Abbott’s Concrete Angel, we meet the very high maintenance Eve Moran. From the time she was a small child, Eve has always wanted to acquire. And she’s never let anything, not even murder, get between her and what she wants, whether it’s money, jewels, men, or something else. Her daughter Christine has been raised in this toxic environment, so she and her mother have a very dysfunctional relationship. The more time goes on, the more trapped Christine is in her mother’s web. Then, she sees that her little brother Ryan is at risk of being caught in the same trap. She decides that she’s going to have to free both herself and Ryan if she’s going to save them.

And I don’t think I’d be forgiven if I discussed high maintenance people in crime fiction without mentioning Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe. Fans will tell you that he’s demanding, extremely particular, high-handed and sometimes very condescending. He definitely insists that the world run by his rules. And his partner, Archie Goodwin, is not afraid to tell him so. Wolfe gets away with what he does because he happens to be a brilliant detective. But that doesn’t make him a delight to be around at times…

And that’s the thing about high maintenance people. They are sometimes most unpleasant, and they’re not popular as bosses, potential partners or customers/clients. But they’re also a part of life. And they can add some interesting tension to a crime novel.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Wham! ‘s Everything She Wants.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Barbara Neely, Geraldine Evans, Jill Edmondson, Patricia Abbott, Rex Stout