Category Archives: Maj Sjöwall

I Know That I Will Kill Again*

Second MurdersMany crime novels feature more than one murder. And if you think about it, this makes sense. For one thing, there’s an argument that once you’ve crossed the line and taken a life, it’s easier to do it again. Here, for instance, is what the murderer in Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile says about it:
 

‘It’s so dreadfully easy – killing people. And you begin to feel that it doesn’t matter!’
 

This fictional killer even acknowledges that it could happen again.

There’s also the fact that second murders in novels can be very effective plot devices. Second murders can add to the suspense and keep the reader engaged. They can also make for effective plot twists (e.g. the most likely suspect in a fictional murder becomes a victim).

Like just about any other element in a novel, second murders have to be handled carefully. They have to fall out logically from the plot (i.e. not be included just for shock value). Timing matters, too. If the second murder happens too abruptly, it can jar the reader. If too much time goes by, the reader’s interest lags. There has to be a logical reason for the second murder as well. After all, most of us are not habitual killers, so something credible has to drive a character to that act.

Perhaps the most frequent motive for the second murder is to keep the second victim quiet. Most murderers don’t want to be caught, and if they suspect that someone knows what they’ve done, it’s easy to believe they’d kill to prevent that person from speaking out. That’s what happens in Christianna Brand’s Green For Danger. Postman Joseph Higgins is admitted to Heron Park Hospital for a fractured femur. It’s supposed to be a routine operation; tragically, though, he dies during the procedure. At first it’s put down to a terrible accident, and Inspector Cockrill begins what’s expected to be a routine investigation. But Higgins’ widow is convinced he was murdered. Cockrill takes her very seriously when there’s a second death. This time, it’s a nurse, Sister Marion Bates, whose body is found only hours after she blurted out that she knew Higgins was killed, and by whom. There are, of course, myriad other stories where the killer strikes more than once to keep someone from going to the police.

Sometimes, killers strike more than once because their first victim is accidental. For example, in Colin Dexter’s Death is Now My Neighbor, Inspector Morse and Sergeant Lewis are assigned to investigate the shooting death of physiotherapist Rachel James. They don’t make much progress on the case at first, since there seems no obvious motive. Then, journalist Geoffrey Owens, who lives near the first victim, is murdered. Now it looks as though someone may have a grudge against the people who live in that particular area. But Morse and Lewis soon find differently. As it turns out, Owens was the intended victim the whole time; Rachel James was murdered accidentally.

There are also fictional cases where the murderer has more than one target. There’s a second victim (or more) because that’s part of the killer’s plan. That’s what happens in Carin Gerhardsen’s The Gingerbread House. Stockholm DCI Conny Sjöberg and his team are called in when the body of realtor Hans Vannerberg is discovered in the kitchen of a temporarily-unoccupied home. The homeowner, Ingrid Olssen, claims not to know the victim, and in any case couldn’t have killed him. So the team has to look elsewhere for the murderer. Then there’s another killing, this time of a prostitute who’s murdered in her seedy apartment. There’s another murder, too. In this novel, the second murder happens because the killer targeted a particular group of people.

There are also fictional cases where the murderer kills more than one person so as to ‘hide’ one particular death. The idea here is that that one murder will point more or less directly to the killer. It won’t be so easy to find the real murderer if there are several victims. That’s a plot point, for instance, in Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö’s The Laughing Policeman. In one story thread, a gunman holds up a public transit bus and shoots eight people. At first it seems that a madman has struck. But it’s not that simple. It turns out that one victim, a cop named Åke Stenström, was investigating the murder of a prostitute on his own, and that someone doesn’t want that case solved. Homicide detective Martin Beck and his team learn that in this instance, the killer really only had one target. The other deaths were used, if I may put it this way, as a disguise. There’s an Agatha Christie novel too that has that premise.

Sometimes, the fictional second murder is committed because the killer is after something that isn’t obtained after the first murder. In Aaron Elkins’ Loot, for instance, art expert Benjamin ‘Ben’ Revere gets involved in the case of a valuable Velázquez that was ‘safeguarded’ by the Nazis during World War II. When it turns up, decades later, in a Boston pawnshop, the store’s owner is murdered for it. Revere was a friend of the victim’s, and hopes that if he can trace the painting from the time it disappeared during the war, he can find out who the murderer is. As it turns out, more than one person is killed for this valuable artwork.

There are also plenty of cases where there are (at least) two murders that are committed by different people. I won’t give authors and titles, so as to avoid spoilers. But here’s one example. I read a novel where A kills B. Then C (who is in love with B) finds out that A is the murderer and kills that person. That sort of plot is tricky, because it’s a bit more of a challenge to keep everything coherent and keep the focus on the main plot. But it does happen in real life, and it does in crime fiction too.

You’ll notice I’m not mentioning any of the many novels where the second murder indicates a serial killer. It’s not that those stories can’t be well-written. There are certainly high-quality ‘serial killer’ novels out there. But there are also a great many that, well, aren’t of high quality. And in real life, the true serial killer – the psychopath or sociopath – is comparatively rare.

Whatever the motive for a second fictional murder, it has to be credible if the story is to hold up. It also has to fall out naturally from the plot (i.e. not be included merely for interest). When the author does that though, a second murder can add to a story.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Jarvis Cocker’s I Will Kill Again.

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Filed under Aaron Elkins, Agatha Christie, Carin Gerhardsen, Christianna Brand, Colin Dexter, Maj Sjöwall, Per Wahlöö

I’ll Be Out in Cyberspace*

OnlineMeetingsIt’s no secret that technology keeps moving forward, making it increasingly easier to keep in contact with people from all over the world. And it’s happened at amazing speed too. Here are a few facts to put this all in a bit of perspective. People have of course been writing messages, notes and letters for as long as there’s been writing, really. But for many thousands of years, two things hampered this kind of contact. First, lots of people weren’t literate, and there are many cultures that don’t have a written language. Second, there were logistical and geographical issues to take into account, so letters could take a very long time to reach their recipients. Local communication by note and letter was easier (and you see a lot of that in Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories), but it still left much to be desired.

The first transatlantic cable was sent in 1844, and the first telephone call was made in 1876. And within the next few decades, telephone and cable contact became more and more integral to people’s everyday communication. And you see it in crime fiction too. Agatha Christie fans can tell you about a number of cases that rely on cables for information (Death in the Clouds (AKA Death in the Air is just one small example). And of course, we can all cite dozens of classic and Golden Age crime fiction stories where telephone calls are important parts of the plot, whether as alibis, clues or something else. And if you think about it, that’s just a matter of about sixty years (for the telephone). It was really the first long-distance synchronous communication, and it was revolutionary.

What happened next is possibly even more revolutionary: computer communication. Online communication actually began with a very small group of people in the 1970’s (the first email was sent in 1971), but for most consumers, email didn’t become a fact of regular life until the late 1980s/early 1990s. Still, that was only about 60 or 70 years after the telephone became an important part of daily life. And it made a huge difference too. If you’ve read Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö’s Roseanna, for instance, you know that the victim in that case is identified as Roseanna McGraw through a series of transatlantic telephone calls. They take time, the connection is terrible, and there are other technical problems too. Imagine if there’d been email then. I know that there simply wasn’t at the time that novel was written, and of course including it would have made the novel not credible. But it’s interesting to think of what the story might have been like.

In the last 30 years or so, global communication has once again been tranformed and arguably transformative. Today, email, texts and social media commentary link people from all over the world in a matter of microseconds. And we see that all over crime fiction. I’ll just give a few examples. There are Facebook posts that figure into Michael Connelly’s The Fifth Witness. Another social media site, Campus Juice, is an important factor in Alafair Burke’s 212. Texts feature in C.J. Box’s Below Zero. And the list could go on. And today’s Internet allows for all sort of sophistication too. How often do you see videos, lots of them uploaded from telephones, posted on blogs and other sites? And if you’ve ever done an online workshop, course or seminar, you know that Internet communication has had a powerful impact on education. As a somewhat personal aside, a hat tip goes to the way Australia has led the way in distance learning. I could give you lots of dates and academic references, but I’ll spare you…

These developments have come at an astonishing speed. They’ve also had of course some very negative consequences. Both in crime fiction and in real life, there are all sorts of stories of online predators. Perhaps a little less dangerous but no less upsetting are the stories of online ‘trolls.’ There’s another negative consequence too, that sometimes gets less attention, but is important. As we communicate more and more via technology, what’s happening to our in-person communication? There are studies (again, I’m sparing you the details) that suggest that young people who spend too much time using online technology do have difficulty with in-person social skills (e.g. appropriate eye contact, listening skills and the like). And even more studies support the vital importance of in-person contact. There are also plenty of crime novels that portray characters like this (for a witty but at times painfully real example, check Kerry Greenwood’s Corinna Chapman series. There’s a small group of computer wizards and gamers Chapman calls Nerds, Inc. that personify this phenomenon).

And there’s the question of just how intrusive online communication is. Do we really want to know what people had for breakfast? Where they partied last night? And more to the point, do we want others to know what we ate, where we went, or whom we see? Today’s communication has meant a need to re-think privacy and how to maintain it.

There’s another issue, too. Even with videos and pictures, asynchronous communication has its drawbacks. It’s hard to gauge people’s non-verbal language that way, and it can take longer for ideas to develop. And that’s to say nothing of the social and emotional benefits that come with real-time, face-to-face interaction.

Enter one of the most recent technological developments: communication applications such as Skype, Zoom and Google Hangout. With those applications, people from all over the world can have a live conversation. These applications are used for employment interviews, meetings, and simply keeping in contact with faraway friends and loved ones. Just to give you one example, every month, UK crime novelist Rebecca Bradley facilitates an online meeting of the Crime Book Club, which has members from several different countries. Yes, this is in part a plug for that great group. It meets the third Wednesday of every month at 8pm GMT, and everyone’s welcome. But this is more than just a plug. The Crime Book Club is a really clear example of what a tremendous impact technology has had on communication. And all of this in 175 years! Amazing!

So what’s coming next? And what will the implications be? Now that young people can communicate with family and friends via live video applications, will this improve social skills? Is physical proximity really necessary for that? Will family bonds be stronger (because of the ease of keeping in contact) or will they erode (because of time spent online with other people)? And what about privacy? I don’t have the answers, but my impression is that it’ll be a bit of a proverbial mixed bag. Let me put it this way: I am flattered, honoured and always amazed by the friendships I’ve made with people from all of the populated continents. And it’s all because of online technology. I wouldn’t be without online capability. But nothing is the same as meeting people in person. I wonder how close technology can get to that.

ps. Talking of Rebecca Bradley, you’ll want to visit her excellent blog. It’s a rich resource for crime fiction readers and writers. And you’ll want to check out her debut novel Shallow Waters. It’s a very solid police procedural/suspense thriller featuring DI Hannah Robbins of the Nottingham CID (I love the fact that this one takes place in a part of the UK that isn’t as common in crime fiction).
 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from The Black-Eyed Peas’  Now Generation.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Alafair Burke, Arthur Conan Doyle, C.J. Box, Kerry Greenwood, Maj Sjöwall, Michael Connelly, Per Wahlöö, Rebecca Bradley

They Paved the Way For Generations*

Briding the GapThe Golden Age of detective fiction is usually thought to have come to an end during the 1940s, although people do disagree on exactly how long the era lasted. And we can all think of authors who represent that era and novels that reflect it.

Of course, the Golden Age didn’t end all of a sudden, and there are still highly-regarded novels being written today that maintain some of the Golden Age traditions. And, beginning in about the middle of the 20th Century, there was a group of authors who took some of those traditions and brought them into the modern age. There are several authors whose work falls into this category; I’ll just mention a few.

Colin Dexter’s Inspector Morse series is one example. As fans will know, these novels are mainly ‘whodunits’ in the Golden Age tradition. There’s a primary sleuth and his sidekick, and there’s a set of suspects. These are in many ways intellectual mysteries too. That said though, these really aren’t ‘pure’ Golden Age novels. For one thing, Dexter used more modern police procedure and the novels acknowledge then-contemporary social attitudes. So they have a more modern ‘feel’ to them. What’s more, there’s more character depth in this series than there is in some Golden Age series. To put it another way, one could argue that this series bridged the gap between the Golden Age and modern crime fiction.

So did Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö’s Martin Beck series. Beginning in 1965 with Roseanna, the ten-novel series offered intellectual puzzles and ‘whodunits,’ just as Goden Age series did. So in that sense, the novels preserve a bit of the Golden Age tradition. At the same time, the authors arguably bridged several gaps between Golden Age crime fiction and modern crime fiction. For example, the Martin Beck series includes story arcs that depict the police officers’ private lives as well as the cases they investigate. So instead of seeing just the ‘cop side’ of a detective (e.g. Agatha Christie’s Chief Inspector Japp), readers get a more complete perspective on the investigators as people. There’s also the fact that the authors use the series in part to discuss their own political agenda. Certainly one can spot political points of view in Golden Age crime fiction, but it’s made much clearer in this series.

Ruth Rendell’s work also bridges the gap between Golden Age crime fiction and contemporary crime fiction. Like Golden Age novels, the stories in her Inspector Wexford series focus a lot on the ‘whodunit’ of crime. And in other ways too, the mysteries have some aspects of the traditional sort of crime novel. And yet, this series also has the hallmarks of more modern crime fiction as well. There’s a great deal of emphasis on character development, and an interest in psychological as well as other kinds of motives for murder. There’s also a rich set of story arcs involving Wexford’s private life as well as his life as a detective. This series arguably has elements of both Golden Age crime fiction and contemporary crime fiction.

So does Evan Hunter/Ed McBain’s 87th Precinct series. In one sense, this police procedural series reflects the Golden Age ‘hardboiled’ novel. The endings of the stories aren’t always happy, and there is some blunt violence. Some of them do have a real ‘hardboiled noir‘ feel about them. But this series also reflects more contemporary crime fiction as well. We see more modern-style story arcs and attention paid to the personal lives of the members of the 87th. There are also more contemporary themes and underlying motives, which makes sense when you consider that the series continued into the early 21st Century. Among other things, this series arguably moved ‘hardboiled’ crime fiction into the modern age and more importantly, helped carve out the role that the police procedural would play in it.

These are of course just a few examples of series that bridged the gap between Golden Age crime novels and modern crime novels. I know you’ll have at hand many others. They’ve been responsible for a lot of innovation in the genre.

pdjames

One name that belongs on that list is P.D. James. She wrote many novels; I’ll just focus on her Adam Dalgliesh series. In one sense, we see Golden Age crime fiction reflected in her work. Dalgliesh for instance has sometimes been called ‘the last of the gentleman detectives.’ Beginning with Cover Her Face, this series has included many ‘whodunits,’ and a few mysteries that are reminiscent of the ‘impossible-but-not-really’ sort of crime. In other ways too we see the impact of the Golden Age. But James also helped give the crime novel a modern identity as well. We see that in the character development, the story arcs, the use of more modern police procedure and technology, the exploration of social issues and other factors.

Along with her Dalgliesh novels and other crime fiction, James was a strong force ‘behind the scenes’ as well. And her non-fiction book Talking About Detective Fiction is just one sample of her wealth of knowledge and experience. James passed away yesterday, 27 November 2014. Her loss is deeply felt. Her impact on crime fiction has been enormous, and her influence on other crime writers considerable. She will be sorely missed. This post is dedicated to her memory.
 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Chaka Khan, Arif Mardin, Dizzy Gillespie and Frank Paparelli’s And the Melody Still Lingers On (Night in Tunisia).

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Filed under Colin Dexter, Ed McBain, Evan Hunter, Maj Sjöwall, P.D. James, Per Wahlöö, Ruth Rendell

Imagine There’s No Countries*

GLobalismIt’s no secret that modern technology has dramatically increased the contact we have with people from, quite literally, all over the world. This globalisation has meant that more and more, we’re aware of and influenced by other cultures and ways of doing things. The global nature of communication certainly presents its share of challenges. Different cultures have of course different values, priorities and ways of looking at the world. So negotiating meaning can be a challenge. So can the personal preferences, biases and so on that we all have. There are other challenges too such as language differences. But the payoff can mean that some major issues that affect everyone can be addressed as a wealth of expertise and innovative perspectives can be brought to bear.

It can work in real life, and it does in crime fiction too. There are lots of crime fiction novels and series where the investigation crosses geopolitical borders, and even when there are challenges, the end result is often more productive than it would be without that kind of co-operation.

In Agatha Cristie’s Death in the Clouds, for example, Hercule Poirot is on a flight from Paris to London when a fellow passenger Marie Morisot suddenly dies of what turns out to be poison. The only possible suspects are the other passengers on the flight, so Poirot and Chief Inspector Japp sift through the various possibilities to find out who would have wanted to murder the victim. She was a well-known moneylender who did business as Madame Giselle, and more than one of the suspects might have had good reason to want her dead. Madame Giselle was French, so British and French authorities will have to work together to solve the case. And in this particular instance they do. There are a few moments of awkwardness, but in the main, the investigation is successful. And it’s clear that without that co-operation, it might very well not be. Fans of Christie’s work will know that The Murder on the Links presents a slightly different view of a joint effort between French and British police. And such ‘team efforts’ don’t always work smoothly. But when they work well, they lead to better investigation.

Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö’s Roseanna offers an interesting look at the way Swedish and American police work together to solve a case. When the body of a young woman is dredged up from Lake Vättern, it’s extremely difficult at first to find out who she is. But eventually she is identified as twenty-seven-year-old Roseanna McGraw, a native of the US state of Nebraska. She was touring Sweden when she was killed, and at first there seems no motive for the murder. Little by little though, we get a more detailed portrait of her personal life and of those who interacted with her. And that leads slowly to the killer. In the end, Beck and his team find out who the murderer is. But it would arguably have been impossible without the information provided by Detective Lieutenant Elmer Kafka of the Lincoln, Nebraska police. At the time the novel was written, this kind of global approach to crime solving involved cables, sometimes-unreliable international telephone calls and letters. It’s a lot easier with modern communication.

In Helene Tursten’s The Glass Devil, Göteborg police inspector Irene Huss and her team investigate the murder of schoolteacher Jacob Schyttelius and his parents. At first, the murders seem to be the work of a Satanist group. That’s not a far-fetched theory, as Schyttelius’ father is a member of the clergy. But it’s not long before that theory is disproved. Now the possibility arises that someone is killing the members of the family for more personal reasons. If that’s the case, then Schyttelius’ sister Rebecka could very well be the murderer’s next target. She lives in London, so Huss and her team will have to work with UK authorities to protect Rebecka Schyttelius and solve the case. Huss travels to London and works with Inspector Glen Thompson of the Met. Although Huss speaks English, Thompson’s knowledge of the local scene and his connections are essential to solving the case. Huss’ knowledge of the family background and of the murders themselves is just as important.

Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch deals with a global sort of a case in 9 Dragons. When Los Angeles liquor store owner John Li is shot, Bosch and his partner Ignacio Ferras investigate. Evidence suggests that Li was making protection payoffs to one of Los Angeles’ triads, or ‘protection groups’ with connections to Hong Kong. Bosch is starting to follow up that lead when he gets a call from his daughter Maddie, who’s living there with her mother (and Bosch’s ex-wife) Eleanor Wish. Maddie says that she’s been kidnapped, so Bosch immediately travels to Hong Kong to find her. In the end, we find out what happened to Maddie; we also find out the truth about John Li’s murder. And throughout the novel, we see how the global nature of today’s world impacts these cases.

Ian Hamilton’s Toronto-based sleuth Ava Lee is a forensic accountant. She works for a Hong Kong-based company whose specialty is recovering large debts. In The Water Rat of Wanchai, The Disciple of Las Vegas and The Wild Beasts of Wuhan, Lee travels to many different parts of the world as she traces lost money. This series takes a very global perspective on the way money is earned, stolen, managed, transferred and hidden. Because today’s technology allows transactions to be global, financial investigation has to be global as well.

Crime fiction also shows us globalism on a small scale too. For instance, Steve Hamilton’s Alex McKnight series takes place in and around Paradise, on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. That part of Michigan is of course very close to the border with the Canadian province of Ontario. So in several of McKnight’s stories, there’s a lot of communication and interaction between Canadian and American people, and that includes police authorities. As Hamilton shows, globalism has several facets. On the one hand, there are sometimes-subtle but distinct differences between the Canadian way of doing things and the American way. They’re different cultures. They see life differently and that’s portrayed in the series. And yet, we also see the easy communication, the overall willing co-operation, and the recognition that each side benefits from the other’s knowledge. What’s even more interesting (at least to me) is that that area of Lake Superior and Lake Michigan has its own unique culture, distilled from the Indigenous cultures, the Candian culture and the American culture. It’s a global way of looking at life at a very local level.

In today’s world, easy travel and even easier communication have arguably resulted in a more global perspective on life. Certainly crime has ‘gone global.’ So it makes a lot of sense that perspectives on investigation would do the same. I’ve only touched on a few examples here. So now, it’s over to the rest of you folks in the global crime fiction community…

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from John Lennon’s Imagine. He would have been 74 today as this is posted. Imagine…

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Ian Hamilton, Irene Tursten, Maj Sjöwall, Michael Connelly, Per Wahlöö, Steve Hamilton

There Doesn’t Seem to Be Anyone Around*

Remote LocationsCrime fiction fans like their stories to be believable. And in a real-life murder, one of the challenges the killer faces is what to do with the body of the victim. In some cases, the body can be left at the scene of the murder. But in other situations, doing so could point the proverbial finger right at the murderer. For example, if the victim is killed in the murderer’s home or office, suspicion usually falls fairly quickly on the culprit. So the body has to be moved. Modern police forensics testing can determine whether a body’s been moved, but even so, moving a body can make it more challenging in a lot of ways to catch a killer. So of course, fictional murderers take this into account too.

When it’s possible, a lot of killers (at least fictional ones) like remote and inaccessible places. Even if the body is discovered at some point, enough time usually has gone by to make the detection process very difficult. That’s what the killer counts on in Giles Blunt’s Forty Words For Sorrow. In that novel, Algonquin Bay (Ontario) police detectives John Cardinal and Lise Delorme investigate when the body of thirteen-year-old Katie Pine is discovered in an abandoned mine shaft on Windigo Island. She’s been missing for five months by that time, and as we learn in the novel, the trail has gotten cold. So Cardinal and Delorme face a difficult challenge in connecting her with her killer. In fact, it’s not until there’s another murder that they can really get some of the leads they need to find out the truth.

Donna Malane’s Diane Rowe is a Wellington-based missing persons expert. So she is consulted when the body of an unknown man is discovered in Rimutaka State Forest. The place where the body was found is in remote part of the forest, so it’s not surprising that it’s been there for a very long time. In fact, Rowe learns that the body has been there since the mid-1970s. At this point there’s vey little evidence to go on, but Rowe uses the little bits of information she does have to try to find out who the man was. The fact that the body was found in such an inacessible place certainly doesn’t make her task any easier, but Rowe eventually learns the truth about this ‘John Doe.’

In Alexander McCall Smith’s Tears of the Giraffe Mma. Precious Ramotswe meets a new client, American ex-pat Andrea Curtin. Ten years ago, she and her husband were living in Botswana with their son Michael. When his parents returned to the US, Michael chose to remain behind and join an eco-commune. Not very long after joining that community he disappeared and was presumed killed by an animal. Now Andrea has returned to try to get some closure and find out what really happened to her son. Mma. Ramotswe agrees to find out what she can. Little by little, she traces Michael’s last months and weeks and in the end, she discovers the truth. Throughout the investigation though, her efforts are made all the more difficult by the fact that the community is in such a remote area that just about anything could have happened, and no-one would know.

Some fictional killers opt for bodies of water as places to leave bodies. The advantage of that is that lots of evidence gets washed away or at the very least considerably altered. That can often include evidence like time of death. That’s what happens for instance in Peter Lovesey’s The Last Detective: Introducing Superintendant Peter Diamond. One evening, the body of an unknown woman is found at Chew Valley Lake, near Bristol. It’s difficult to discover who the victim is at first, in part because of having been submerged. After a few false starts, the woman is identified as TV personality Geraldine ‘Gerry’ Jackman. Because the body’s been left at the lake, it’s very difficult to trace the body back to the scene of the actual murder, and thus to the killer. Superintedant Peter Diamond and his assistant John Wigfull start of course with the victim’s husband. But there’s no clear evidence against him; nor is there an obvious motive. And there turn out to be other suspects too. As it turns out, the fact that the body was left in the lake add several complications to the case.

The first of Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö’s Martin Beck novels, Roseanna, begins with the discovery of the body of an unknown woman in Sweden’s Lake Vattern. By the time the body is discovered, it’s been several months since the murder, and that’s one reason for which it’s very difficult to find out who the woman is. But after some time, she is identified as Roseanna McGraw, an American who was visiting Sweden when she was killed. The water has not just hidden the body, but also obliterated obvious evidence. So it takes a great deal of time and effort for Stockholm police inspector Martin Beck and his team to connect the victim with her killer. In the end though, and after a lot of perseverance, the team solves the case. There are of course lots of other examples too of fictional killers who use water as a place to leave a body (I know, I know, fans of Dorothy Sayers’ Have His Carcase and of Angela Savage’s The Dying Beach).

For a different and darkly funny take on moving bodies, you may want to check out Rob Kitchin’s Stiffed. When Tadgh Maguire wakes one more morning after a night of drinking, he has much bigger problems than just his hangover. The body of local gangster Tony Marino is next to him in his bead. Maguire knows how short his life span will become if it gets around that he killed Marino, so he decides that the only thing to do is move the body. And that’s when the real trouble begins…

The less evidence there is, the harder it is for the police to link a murder victim to a killer. And the harder it is to find a body, the more time goes by and the less evidence is available. So it’s little wonder there are so many fictional examples of bodies left in remote areas or iin water. Ther are dozens of examples in crime fiction; which ones stand out for you?

 

ps. The ‘photo is of the Mojave Desert of Eastern California and Western Nevada. Lots of likely places there…
 
 

 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Ritchie Cordell’s I Think We’re Alone Now, made famous by Tommy James and the Shondells.

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Filed under Alexander McCall Smith, Angela Savage, Donna Malane, Dorothy Sayers, Maj Sjöwall, Per Wahlöö, Peter Lovesey, Rob Kitchin