Category Archives: Jill Edmondson

Show Me Don’t Tell Me*

Depicting MurdersOne of the questions I’m facing as I work on my new manuscript is whether or not to depict the murder featured in the story. On the one hand, including the murder, especially at the beginning of a story, can be a powerful way to draw the reader in. It really can be a solid ‘hook.’ Showing the murder can also give a novel a solid core around which a plot can be built, and it doesn’t require a gory description.

On the other hand, depicting the murder can be tricky. It requires thought to do it without identifying the murderer. For the whodunit author, for instance, that requires finesse. And even authors who write different kinds of crime fiction (i.e. not whodunits) need to handle the depiction carefully. Otherwise, the writer runs the risk of being melodramatic.

There are really arguments on both sides of this question. And of course, there are plenty of crime novels that are examples of each approach. And as I think you’ll see, it can work either way.

In Gail Bowen’s Deadly Appearances, political scientist and academician Joanne Kilbourn is attending a community picnic where her friend, Androu ‘Andy’ Boychuk is scheduled to make a speech. He’s an up-and-coming politician who’s just been selected to lead Saskatchewan’s Official Opposition party, so this is an important speech for him. He’s just gotten started when he suddenly collapses on stage and quickly dies of what turns out to be poison. Bowen doesn’t provide all of the details of his death, but the murder is depicted. As a way of coping with her grief at the loss of her friend, Kilbourn decides to write a biography of Boychuk. As she learns more about him, she also learns that his life was more complicated than she’d thought. And the closer she gets to an understanding of that life, the closer she gets to the truth about the murder.

In one of the main plot threads of Ian Rankin’s Black and Blue, Aberdeen-based oil worker Allan Mitchison is having some drinks with some companions. Mitchison’s drinking buddies take him back to their place, where they murder him. This killing is portrayed clearly. At first, there doesn’t seem to be a motive for the murder. Mitchison didn’t have obvious enemies, and he wasn’t important enough, if I can put it that way, to make a difference. As Inspector John Rebus discovers, though, he’d found out some secrets that it wasn’t safe for him to know.

Martin Edward’s The Cipher Garden begins with the murder of landscaper Warren Howe. He’s on the job one afternoon when he is murdered with his own scythe. This murder isn’t depicted in all of its detail. But readers are witnesses to what happens. At the time of the murder, everyone thinks Howe’s wife Tina is guilty, and she has plenty of motive. Howe is an abusive, unfaithful husband, and those are his good qualities. But the police can’t find enough evidence to pursue the case. Ten years later, anonymous tips suggest that Tina really was guilty. So DCI Hannah Scarlett, head of the Cumbria Constabulary’s Cold Case Review Team, decides to re-open the case. When she and her team do so, they find that this case is more complicated, and has deeper roots, than it seems. At the same time, Oxford historian Daniel Kind is working on a mystery of his own. He’s recently taken a cottage with an unusual garden, laid out in a cryptic shape. It turns out that the mystery of the garden is connected to the mystery of who killed Warren Howe, and why.

In all of these novels, the authors show the murders, but they do so in ways that don’t reveal the killers’ identities. What’s more, none of the authors revels in a gore-fest. So the murders aren’t depicted for ‘shock value.’

Still, there are plenty of authors who choose not to depict the murders at the core of their novels. And many readers prefer this style of mystery, as they don’t care much for a lot of violence. For those authors and readers, the ‘hook’ may be the discovery of a body. Or it may be something else.

For instance, in Colin Cotterill’s The Coroner’s Lunch, Dr. Siri Paiboun and his team face a strange case. Comrade Nitnoy, the wife of Senior Comrade Kham, suddenly collapsed and died during an important luncheon. This is 1970s Laos, where the Party is firmly in control, and where everyone knows better than to go against the wishes of a highly-placed Party member. In fact, Party instructions are the reason for which Dr. Siri has become Laos’ medical examiner in the first place. So when he is told that Comrade Nitnoy died of accidental poisoning by parasites in some raw food, he is expected to go along with that explanation, submit a cursory report and be done with the matter. But a few pieces of evidence suggest that something else caused the victim’s death. Now, Dr. Siri has to decide whether and how much to go against his superiors’ wishes to find out what actually happened. In this case, readers don’t see the murder committed. Rather, we learn about the death when Comrade Nitnoy’s body is wheeled into the mortuary. Readers find out more of the details as Dr. Siri talks to people who were at the luncheon, and as he does his own tests to find out how Comrade Nitnoy died.

Jill Edmondson’s Blood and Groom introduces Toronto PI Sasha Jackson. In that novel, she’s recently opened for business, and is eager to build a clientele. So when she gets a visit from Christine Arvisais, she’s hoping she’ll be able to help this new client. As Arvisais tells the story, she had been planning to marry Gordon Hanes. Their engagement ended, though, and Arvisais claimed she’d moved on. Hanes was shot on the day that was supposed to have been their wedding day, and plenty of people blame his ex-fiancée.  Arvisais is spoiled, rude, and malicious. But she claims to be innocent, and a fee is a fee, so Jackson takes the case. As she starts to look into the matter, she finds that more than one person could have had a good motive for murder. The murder of Gordon Hanes isn’t depicted. Rather, Jackson learns what happened as she asks questions and does research.

There are many authors who choose to have a character discover a body, rather than show the murder. That’s what happens in Christine Poulson’s Murder is Academic. Cambridge academic Cassandra James goes to the home of Margaret Joplin, who heads the English Literature Department at James’ college. She’s stopped by the house to collect some exam paper. Instead, she finds her boss’ body in the pool, and the papers scattered everywhere. At first, the death looks like a terrible accident. But soon enough, little clues suggest otherwise. As James looks into the death, she finds that the victim had a more complicated life than it seemed.

What do you think? Do you have a preference when it comes to the way authors present murders in the crime fiction you read? If you’re a writer, do you depict the murder, or allude to it? Why?

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Rush’s Show Don’t Tell.

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Filed under Christine Poulson, Colin Cotterill, Gail Bowen, Ian Rankin, Jill Edmondson, Martin Edwards

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

I Can Stand on My Own Without You*

SelfPerceptionSelf-perception plays a critical role in the way we live our lives. It impacts the way we dress, behave, speak, and interact. Often (not always) our view of ourselves is also affected by the way others treat us. And it’s fascinating to think about how much can change when our self-perception does.

In crime fiction, of course, that evolution of self-perception can have positive or negative (sometimes even tragic) consequences. And it’s interesting to see how it all plays out in terms of character development. Changes in self-perception can even form part of a plot line.

In Agatha Christie’s The Moving Finger, we meet Jerry and Joanna Burton, siblings who move to the village of Lymstock so that Jerry can recover from injuries he sustained in a plane crash. Soon after their arrival, they receive an ugly anonymous letter that suggests that they’re not brother and sister, but lovers. They quickly learn that they’re not the only targets, either. Someone’s sending vicious letters to several of the village’s residents. Then, there’s a suicide. And another death. The police look into the matter, but the local vicar’s wife thinks that Miss Marple will find out the truth more quickly. She knows the area and the people, and as she herself puts it, she knows human nature. In the end, Miss Marple discovers who’s behind what happens in Lymstock. One of Lymstock’s residents is the local solicitor’s stepdaughter, twenty-year-old Megan Hunter. She’s intelligent and interesting, but she is also awkward and unsophisticated. Certainly her self-perception isn’t very positive. Jerry, though, finds himself falling in love with her. In one scene of the novel, he goes to London and decides to take Megan along. While they’re in London, he arranges for her to have a makeover. Just those steps encourage Megan to begin to re-think the way she sees herself, and that ends up making a major difference in her. I know, I know, fans of The ABC Murders.

Stan Jones’ Nathan Active is an Alaska State Trooper. He is also Inupiaq. When we first meet him in White Sky, Black Ice, he has recently been assigned to the small town of Chukchi. Although Active knows that he is Inupiaq, he was raised in Anchorage by white adoptive parents. So he has little connection to his people, and no real self-perception as one of them. One of the story arcs in this series concerns the evolution of his view of himself as an Inupiaq, and his learning of what that means in terms of language and culture.

Many of Louise Penny’s novels take place in Three Pines, a small town in rural Québec. Several of the regular characters in this series are residents of that town. Two of those residents are artist Clara Morrow and her husband, Peter. As the series begins, Peter is acknowledged as the one with the real talent. Clara sees herself as being less talented and certainly less accomplished than her husband. But as the series moves on, Clara finds her artistic voice. She begins to get some notice, and her art begins to evolve. Now, she has to re-think her self-perception and see herself as the truly talented artist that she is. In some ways, it’s really empowering for Clara to see herself in that new way. But it also has serious unintended consequences.

Kerry Greenwood’s Corinna Chapman is a Melbourne baker who lives and works in a large, Roman-style building called Insula. When the series begins, she does the baking by herself, and has the assistance of Kylie Manners and Gossamer ‘Goss’ Judge in the shop itself. But then she meets Jason Wallace, a fifteen-year-old who’s just recently stopped using heroin. One day, he shows up at her bakery door asking for any work she might have. At first, he mops floors and does other cleaning tasks. He’s a tough street kid who doesn’t really see himself as having a place anywhere else. But before long, both he and Corinna notice something: he’s a natural baker. He’s got an innate sense of what goes into a good loaf of bread, a cake, and, especially, a muffin. In fact, he’s so good that before long, he’s put in charge of creating new varieties of muffins for the bakery. One of Corinna’s nicknames for him is the Muffin Man. As he begins to perceive himself in a new way, Jason starts to change. He becomes reliable, often getting to work in the bakery before his boss does. He takes pride in his work, and begins to see a future for himself.

Of course, the way we see ourselves can sometimes get us into trouble. Just ask Lewis Winter, whom we meet in Malcom Mackay’s The Necessary Death of Lewis Winter. He’s a small-time Glasgow drug dealer who’s never really ‘played with the big boys,’ as the saying goes. But he’s ambitious in his way, and sees himself as a soon-to-be major player in the underworld. On the one hand, that self-perception is empowering, and he begins have some influence. On the other, he also attracts the notice of Peter Jamieson and John Young, who are getting annoyed by Winters’ attempts to rival them. So they hire professional killer Callum MacLean to take care of the problem. MacLean is very good at what he does; and in the end, Winter’s self-perception as a dominant underworld figure turns out to have disastrous consequences.

Sometimes, even a title can make a difference in one’s self-perception. In Jill Edmondson’s Dead Light District, for instance, brothel owner Candace Curtis hires Toronto PI Sasha Jackson. One of Curtis’ employees, Mary Carmen Santamaria, has gone missing, and Curtis is worried about. One of the things Jackson needs to do, of course, is get a sense of the business. Here’s a short bit of a conversation she has with her new client about it:
 

‘‘You have a database of hookers?’… [Jackson]
‘Please, don’t call them hookers. Most of the girls use the term intimacy consultant, though some call themselves relaxation therapists. I know they’re euphemisms, but they’re important to the girls’ self esteem.’
‘Consultants. Right. Got it.’’

 

Curtis knows that self-perception is an important aspect of success, and she wants her employees to have a sense of empowerment.

And that’s the thing about the way we see ourselves. It really does impact a lot about what we do. Everything from dress, to language, to interaction style is affected by the way we view ourselves. And when that view changes, so does everything else.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Alan Jay Lerner and Fredrick Loewe’s Without You.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Jill Edmondson, Kerry Greenwood, Louise Penny, Malcom Mackay, Stan Jones

No One Messes With My Girls*

Brothel OwnersThe sex trade can be very dangerous, especially for those who work independently. Brothels can be a safer and healthier alternative to going it alone, especially if they’re owned and run by skilled and caring owners. Brothel owners have a vested interested in making sure their employees are healthy and safe. And in places where prostitution is illegal, they’re very helpful in terms of keeping the employees out of trouble with the law. Some of them are very particular about clients, too, so that their employees are at less risk. For the client, brothels can offer a more comfortable atmosphere. And if the brothel owner is doing the job well, there’s less risk of STDs.

Of course, real and fictional brothels run the gamut from elegant, upmarket places to seedy, very dangerous places where the employees are treated horribly. Either way, brothel owners can make very interesting characters in crime novels and series. On the one hand, what they are doing is illegal in a lot of places. On the other, they can be very helpful sources of information, and the police find that it’s often better all round to work with them than to make life too difficult for them.

Ed McBain’s Steve Carella knows that. In Cop Hater, he and his team are looking for a suspect they believe might be responsible for killing two of his colleagues, Mike Reardon and David Foster. They’ve traced this suspect to a local brothel owned by Mama Luz. Carella and Mama Luz have a very amicable relationship. Here’s how she greets him when he and his rookie assistant visit her establishment:
 

“You come on a social call?’ she asked Carella, winking.
‘If I can’t have you, Mama Luz,’ Carella said, ‘I don’t want anybody.’’

 

She’s helpful in directing him to the room where the suspect is, too.

In M.C. Beaton’s Death of a Nag, Hamish Macbeth has been having a difficult time lately. He’s been demoted from the rank of sergeant, and his engagement to Priscilla Haliburton-Smythe is now off. At loose ends and fed up with everything, Macbeth decides to take some time away. He stays at the Friendly House, a beachside inn. It’s not exactly the peaceful respite he’d hoped for, though. Many of the guests are at the very least annoying, and the innkeepers aren’t exactly the stuff of travel fantasy. Then, Bob Harris, who’s one of the residents, is murdered. Macbeth finds himself drawn into the investigation, and begins to trace Harris’ last days and weeks. That includes a follow-up on an incident in which he himself saw Harris leave a brothel. The brothel’s owner, Mrs. Simpson, is both candid and co-operative. It’s clear from their exchange that she’s used to being on what’s technically speaking the wrong side of the law, but at the same time working with the police. It’s also clear from this scene that she cares about the welfare of her employees.

So does Candace Curtis, whom we meet in Jill Edmondson’s Dead Light District. In that novel, she hires Toronto PI Sasha Jackson to find one of her employees, Mary Carmen Santamaria. The young woman’s gone missing, and Curtis is concerned that something might have happened to her. Jackson takes the case, and as she investigates, she learns quite a bit about the Toronto sex trade. She also gets to know her new client, and her client’s way of running her business. Curtis takes the well-being of her employees very seriously, so she’s quite particular about accepting clients. She insists, too, on ensuring her employees’ dignity and self-esteem. She’s also smart when it comes to business, and has done well for herself and the women who work for her.

In David Whish-Wilson’s Line of Sight, which takes place in 1970’s Perth, we meet Superintendent Frank Swann. He’s been away from Perth for a few years, but returns when he learns that a friend has been murdered. The victim is brothel owner Ruby Devine, whose body has been found in her car on a golf course. The official police explanation is that she was probably killed by her partner Jacky White. But the case is flimsy and Swann is sure that more is going on here than a case of domestic violence gone horribly wrong. He’s not going to get much help from his work colleagues, because he’s already a marked man, as the saying goes, for requesting a Royal Commission hearing regarding police corruption. The police he’s accusing are members of what’s known as ‘the purple circle,’ a group known for graft, corruption, and vicious brutality if they are crossed. The word on the street is that they are responsible for Ruby’s murder, so lots of people are afraid to speak up against them for fear of a similar reprisal. Swann perseveres, though, and we learn the truth about Ruby’s death. In the meantime, the Royal Commission hearing goes on, and there’s testimony from several witnesses. One of them, Pat Chesson, is, like the victim, a brothel owner. Here’s what she says about the relationship between the owners and the police before the ‘purple circle’ moved in:
 

‘When I first arrived to set up my business here, there was understandings between myself and the police. We kept our part of the bargain, they kept theirs. We made sure all our girls was clean and well behaved. We kept a quiet profile. You wouldn’t know, walking past one of my businesses, what it was. And anyone who went outside the rules was run out of town.’’
 

Among other things, this shows the role that brothel owners play in making sure their businesses fit into the community without causing the police a lot of trouble.

In Jussi Adler-Olsen’s The Purity of Vengeance, Copenhagen homicide detective Carl Mørck gets a visit from an old nemesis, Børge Bak. Bak is a former colleague who has since transferred, and Mørck is none too pleased to see him. This time, Bak has a request. His sister Esther, who owns a brothel, has been attacked with acid, and Bak thinks he has the right man in custody. He wants Mørck’s help in getting a confession. He’s also brought along another case: the 1987 disappearance of another brothel owner, Rita Nielson. Mørck’s secretary/researcher Rose Knudsen is sure that the Nielsen case was more or less passed over – ‘shelved’ – because of the woman’s profession, and at her insistence, Mørck looks into it. He and his team discover that this disappearance, and that of several others on the same weekend, all have to do with one woman, Nete Hermansen, and her desire for revenge, especially against a doctor who horribly abused his medical privileges.

We also see plenty of brothel owners – mamasans – in work like that of John Burdett and Timothy Hallinan. In Southeast Asia (although not in all of Asia), these are women (there are also papasans – the male equivalent) who manage bars that also provide prostitution services. Their roles aren’t identical to the roles played by Western-style brothel owners, but they bear some similarities.  Mamasans and papasans ensure that customers pay the ‘bar fine’ – the price for leaving with one of the bar’s employees. They also make sure that the bar runs smoothly, and, where necessary, they pay off the police and other authorities.

There are many cases of brothel owners who are vicious and predatory, both in fiction and in real life. But plenty of them are business people who make a living providing a service. And some of them care a lot about their employees, and want to make sure that they’re safe and that their clients have a good experience, too. They can also make very interesting characters in a crime story.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Carol Hall’s A Lil’ Ole Bitty Pissant Country Place.

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Filed under David Whish-Wilson, Ed McBain, Jill Edmondson, John Burdett, Jussi Adler-Olsen, M.C. Beaton, Timothy Hallinan

YYZ*

TorontoToronto is a beautiful, cosmopolitan city. It’s one of the most culturally diverse cities in the world, and it’s got a rich history. There’s politics (it’s a provincial capital), art, fine food, great music and sport. And murder. That’s right, murder. Don’t let Toronto’s peaceful and lovely surface fool you; plenty of crime fiction happens there. Little wonder the Arthur Ellis awards for this year – Canada’s highest award for crime writing – were given out in Toronto. Here are just a few examples of Toronto-based crime fiction. There are others that space prevents me from mentioning.

One of Eric Wright’s series features Inspector Charlie Salter of the Toronto Metropolitan Police. For political reasons, he got ‘sidelined’ and shunted to what amounts to desk duty. He begins to win back some notice in his first outing, The Night the Gods Smiled. In Smoke Detector, the second novel in this series, he investigates the murder of Cyril ‘Cy’ Drecker, who owned an antique/junk shop. Drecker’s body is found in the burned-out remains of the shop, and it’s soon revealed that he died of smoke inhalation. This is clearly a case of arson and murder, so Salter’s challenge is to sift through the victim’s past to find out who is responsible. It won’t be easy, either, as Drecker was an unfaithful husband and a somewhat unscrupulous businessman. Along with the mysteries in this series, it also features story arcs that focus on Salter’s family. He’s one of those detectives who actually has a bond with his wife and children…

John McFetridge has also set his work in Toronto. For example, Dirty Sweet is the story of down-on-her-luck real estate agent Roxanne Keyes. One afternoon, she witnesses a man get out of the passenger side of a Volvo, walk back to an SUV behind him, and shoot the driver. She tells her story to the investigating detectives and it’s accurate as far as it goes. But that’s not very far. She hasn’t told the police that the murderer looks familiar. Later, she remembers who the killer is: He’s a former prospective client, Boris Suliemanov, who’s with the Russian Mob. She figures that if she deals with Suliemanov rather than turning him in to the police, she can set herself up to benefit. But of course, when you deal with dangerous people, you get into trouble…

Robert Rotenberg’s series featuring police detective Ari Greene also takes place mostly in Toronto. In some senses, this is a police procedural series since Greene is with the Toronto Police, and he and his team do the investigating in these novels. But Rotenberg is a criminal lawyer, and these books are as much legal mysteries as they are anything else. Each one involves an important trial, and we follow several attorneys for both sides as these cases are prepared and play out in court. Rotenberg also depicts the cultural complexity of Toronto, too. As we get to know the characters in this series, we see that they’re from a wide variety of ethnic, geographic and cultural backgrounds. They’re all in the city for different reasons, too, and Rotenberg tells their stories without too much of a self-conscious focus on their diversity. It’s simply part of what this city is.

One of the important communities in Toronto is the Chinese and Chinese-Canadian community. Readers get a look at this community in Ian Hamilton’s Ava Lee novels. Lee’s mother moved her children from China to Canada when Lee was very small, so Lee considers herself Canadian. Yet, she maintains several aspects of her Chinese identity as well. She is a forensic accountant who works for a Hong Kong-based firm headed by Chow Tung, whom Lee refers to as Uncle. Her specialty is tracing hidden money, and her services are highly valued by clients who’ve been bilked out of money and are desperate to get it back. Lee travels quite a lot, since those who are trying to hide money tend to use offshore banks and other companies. But her home is Toronto.

There are also Jill Edmondson’s Sasha Jackson novels. Jackson is a former rock singer who’s become a private investigator. Her cases have shown her (and the reader) several different sides of Toronto, including various facets of the sex and porn industries; banking; music; and of course, good restaurants. Sometimes Jackson’s personal life gets a little complicated. But she can always count on her best friend Lindsey, her brother Shane (it helps that he and Lindsey are engaged), and her father. Thus far, there are four novels in this series: Blood and Groom, Dead Light District, The Lies Have It, and Frisky Business.

And no mention of Toronto crime fiction would be complete without a mention of the CBC’s Murdoch Mysteries, starring Yannick Bisson as Detective William Murdoch. The series takes place mostly in Toronto, at the end of the 19th Century and the beginning of the 20th Century. There’s a strong sense of the late Victorian/Edwardian era, and some of the main movements and events of that time find their ways into the plots.

As you see, Toronto is a city with a beautiful setting, fascinating history, rich culture, and great food. It has sport, intellectual life, interesting politics, and plenty to do. But peaceful? Not so much…

Stay dry, Torontonians!

 
 

In Memoriam…

Eric Wright

This post is dedicated to the memory of Eric Wright, one of the founding members of the Crime Writers of Canada, who died earlier this month. His work was prolific and influential, and he will be much missed.

 

ps  As you may know, I usually take my own ‘photos. But this one’s better than any one I could take. Thanks, City of Toronto.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is the title of a song by Rush. What’s YYZ? It’s the airport code for Toronto Pearson International Airport

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Filed under Eric Wright, Ian Hamilton, Jill Edmondson, John McFetridge, Robert Rotenberg