Category Archives: Margaret Maron

Good Morning Judge*

Judges are a crucial part of the justice system. They have the very difficult task of presiding over trials, sometimes ugly trials, and are expected to remain impartial, relying on the evidence, the law, and precedent to do their jobs. Personal bias is not supposed to influence their rulings.

But of course, judges are human. They interpret matters one way or another. They like some lawyers better than others. They have preferences when it comes to how their sessions are run. And they have faults, just like the rest of us. Most of them work hard to do the best job they can, but that doesn’t mean they’re perfect. They can be, though, very interesting characters in crime fiction. One post isn’t enough to cover this topic thoroughly, but here are a few examples.

Robert Van Gulik’s protagonist is Dee Jen-djieh (Judge Dee), a Tang Dynasty (618-806 CE) Magistrate for the district of Lan-Fang, on China’s northwestern border. Dee’s job is to administer justice, and some of his punishments are harsh, or worse, by our current Western standards. But Dee does have a sense of compassion, and he considers things like motive and other factors when he pronounces sentence. He is also a clever person and finds inventive ways to get to the truth about the cases he handles.

One of Margaret Maron’s series features Judge Deborah Knott, who lives and works in North Carolina. She is the daughter of a moonshine peddler/bootlegger, but she chose to work on the other side of the law. She’s a district judge, so her cases take her to different parts of the state. This gives Maron the opportunity to explore North Carolina’s diversity. The novels do focus on the mysteries at hand, but they also frequently involve members of Knott’s family (she has eleven siblings and plenty of other relatives). And Maron uses the novels to address real-life issues (like racism, poverty, and the like) that impact the way justice is or isn’t served.

In Elmore Leonard’s Maximum Bob, we meet Robert Isom ‘Maximum Bob’ Gibbs. He’s earned that nickname because of the harsh sentences that he metes out. In fact, he usually assigns the stiffest penalty the law allows. This, of course, means that he’s made his share of enemies among the people he sentences. He also has a notorious reputation with women and has given more than one a good reason to resent him. And that’s to say nothing of his wife, who knows the kind of man he his. But Gibbs has a lot of clout, and he uses it to his advantage. One day, an alligator is found on his property.  The police are called in, and the animal is killed. Gibbs wants as little as possible to be made of the incident, but the police, in the form of Gary Hammond, suspect the alligator may have been put on Gibbs’ property deliberately. Then one night, shots are fired into the judge’s home. Now it seems clear that someone is trying to kill him. Hammond works to find out who the would-be killer is before Gibbs is actually murdered. And it’s not going to be easy, because there are quite a few people who’d like to be rid of Gibbs.

Aditya Sudarshan’s A Nice Quiet Holiday introduces readers to Justice Harish Shinde and his law clerk, Anant. The Judge has been invited to spend two weeks at the home of his friend, Shikhar Pant, who has a home in Bhairavgarh, in the Indian state of Rajasthan, and he and Anent are looking forward to taking a break from the Delhi heat. Pant has also invited several other house guests, including his cousin, Kailish Pant.  One afternoon, Kailish is found stabbed in the library. The police are notified, and Inspector Patel takes charge of the investigation. He soon settles on a suspect, but the Judge isn’t so sure that Patel has the right person. And there is most definitely more than one possibility in this case. So, the Judge and Anant start asking questions to get to the truth about this murder. And, because of the Judge’s status, Patel doesn’t react to their involvement in the same way he might if the Judge were a ‘regular’ person.

Nicole Watson’s The Boundary begins with a hearing.  Justice Bruce Brosnan is about to rule on whether or not the Corrowa people have the right to claim Brisband’s Meston Park. A development company wants the land, and the Corrowa have filed a land claim to prevent the company from getting it. Brosnan rules for the company, saying that the Corrowa people cannot prove uninterrupted use of the land. Hours later, he is murdered, and a red feather is found near his body. Then, others involved in the case are also killed.  The police, in the form of Jason Matthews and Andrew Higgins investigate. They are convinced that someone who took the side of the Corrowa people is responsible. At the same time, Miranda Eversley, who argued the case for the Corrowa, has gone into a tailspin after her loss in court. It’s not just her pride that’s stung, either. She is Aboriginal, and this loss is a very personal one. Still, she wants to know the truth about the killings. So, in her ow way, she starts to ask questions. Each with a different approach, she and Matthews work to find out who the killer is.

And then there’s Theresa Schwegel’s The Good Boy. In one plot thread of that novel, eleven-year-old Joel Murphy witnesses a drugs deal and a shooting at a party. He’s not hurt, nor is his sister (who’s at the party). But he’s badly frightened. He takes off, and, as soon as he calms down a bit, decides what to do. He will go in search of Judge Katherine ‘Kitty’ Crawford, whom he knows because his father, Pete, was assigned to protect her after a controversial ruling. At the time, she told Joel he could come see her if he was ever in trouble, and he takes her at her word. Needless to say, his parents are frantic when he doesn’t come home, and part of the novel’s focus is their search for Joel. Another is the shooting itself, and another is a case related to the controversial case that put Crawford’s life at risk. Among other things, it’s a reminder that judges sometimes make very unpopular rulings, and that their rulings sometimes have unexpected consequences.

Being a judge is sometimes a thankless task, and it carries serious responsibility. It’s interesting to see how that work fits in with the other roles people play in the criminal justice system. And it’s interesting to see how characters who are judges fit in in crime fiction. These are only a few. Over to you.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is the title of a song by 10cc.

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Filed under Aditya Sudarshan, Elmore Leonard, Margaret Maron, Nicole Watson, Robert Van Gulik, Theresa Schwegel

These Are the Stories of Edgar Allan Poe*

As this is posted, it’s 176 years since Edgar Allan Poe’s The Murders in the Rue Morgue was first published in Graham’s Magazine. This is the story that introduced the world to C. Auguste Dupin, Poe’s detective. In the story, Dupin solves the murders of Madame L’Espanaye, and her daughter, Mademoiselle Camille L’Espanaye. This is often said to be the first ‘real’ detective story, although there are some who argue otherwise.

Whether or not you’re a fan of Poe, it’s hard to deny his influence on crime fiction. Just a quick look at The Murders in the Rue Morgue offers glimpses of several tropes that we see in later crime fiction.

For example, Dupin’s adventures are narrated by a friend and sidekick. Although this particular narrator isn’t named, the approach to storytelling is reflected in lots of other, more modern, crime fiction. To offer just a few examples, fans of Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories can tell you that they are, by and large, told by Holmes’ sidekick, Dr. Watson. Several of Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot stories are narrated by his friend and sidekick, Captain Arthur Hastings. There are also a few in which the narrator is someone else.  And, much more recently, Chris Grabenstein’s John Ceepak/Danny Boyle novels are narrated in first person by Ceepak’s sidekick, Danny Boyle. In all of these cases (and they’re not the only one), we have a narrator who tells the story in first person, and gives the reader a different perspective on the main sleuth. This allows the author to share what the main sleuth is like without going into too much narrative detail. It also allows the author to share the sleuth’s thinking at a strategic point (more on that shortly).

In The Murders in the Rue Morgue, Dupin solves the murders through a process of logical reasoning and deduction. He doesn’t make claims based just on superficial evidence. Rather, he uses logic to put the facts together. In this, we see the beginnings of the sort of detective Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes turned out to be. Holmes might beg to differ – in fact, he does in A Study in Scarlet. He sees Dupin as not nearly as much of a genius as it may seem. That said, though, there are several parallels between Dupin’s way of putting evidence together, and that of Holmes. You might even argue that there are traces of this approach in some of the Ellery Queen stories.

Dupin doesn’t share his thought processes with the reader as he solves the mystery of the two murders in the story. Instead, he waits until the end to explain how he reached the conclusion. And we see that storytelling strategy in a great deal of crime fiction. For example, fans of Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot will know that he admits to liking an audience. Several of the Poirot novels (I’m thinking, for instance, of Mrs. McGinty’s Dead, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, and Five Little Pigs) include dramatic ‘big reveal’ scenes. The suspects are gathered, and Poirot names the murder, and then explains his thinking. Some of Patricia Wentworth’s Maude Silver novels are like that, and so are some of Ngaio Marsh’s Roderick Alleyn novels. That dramatic scene in the drawing room, or a lounge, or some other place, where all of the suspects come together, is a trope that’s closely associated with the Golden Age. But it’s in more modern crime fiction, too. For instance, Margaret Maron’s One Coffee With has a similar sort of scene.

One of the witnesses in The Murders in the Rue Morgue is a clerk named Adolphe Le Bon. Due to a series of circumstances, he’s arrested for the crime and imprisoned. He claims he’s not guilty, and Dupin clears his name. This trope – the innocent person who’s wrongly accused – has become an integral part of the genre. Golden Age/classic, police procedural, PI, cosy, just about all of the sub-genres include plenty of examples of stories where the wrong person is accused, if not actually convicted. There are far too many examples for me to list them here. But they all add tension to the story.

Does this mean that The Murders in the Rue Morgue is without problems? No. Many people have argued that the explanation – the real story of the murders – is too improbable. What’s more, neither Dupin’s character nor that of his narrator is what we would now call ‘fleshed out.’ The focus in the story is entirely on the intellectual mystery. Modern readers would certainly notice this, and might call the story lacking on that score. There’s also the issue of the way the police are portrayed in the story. Poe doesn’t treat them with a great deal of respect. And there are several ‘isms’ in the story that modern readers would notice.

All of this said, though, The Murders in the Rue Morgue laid the groundwork for the modern detective story. We have a set of murders, a sleuth who makes sense of the evidence, and an invitation to the reader to ‘match wits’ with that sleuth. On that score, Poe’s work arguably deserves recognition. And, if you haven’t read the story, you might want to, just to see how it all arguably started.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Lou Reed’s Edgar Poe.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle, Chris Grabenstein, Edgar Allan Poe, Ellery Queen, Margaret Maron, Patricia Wentworth

They’re Only Made of Clay*

PotteryFor thousands of years, people have merged beauty and practicality in many ways (blankets, clothing, furnishings, etc.). And in doing so, they’ve left behind real windows into their lives. We see this in a lot of ways; I’d never be able to do justice to it in a book, let alone a blog post. But we can get a hint just by looking at pottery.

If you have handmade pottery, then you know it really can be seen as a form of art. If you’ve made it, you may feel even more strongly about that. But pottery also serves lots of practical uses. Potters and pottery certainly turn up in crime fiction, and that makes sense. There are all sorts of possibilities for including interesting information, linking past and present in a mystery, and even creating conflict.

In Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Adventure of the Illustrious Client, pottery is used as a way for Dr. Watson to help Sherlock Holmes prevent a disaster. Sir James Damery is worried about his daughter, Violet, who’s fallen in love with Baron Adelbert Gruner. Both Holmes and Damery are certain that this marriage will end in disaster, since the baron is a philanderer who sees women merely as conquests. The problem is that the Baron has a way of getting a hold over people, so that they do anything he wants. That includes thuggery against anyone who tries to get in his way. Holmes learns from one of Gruner’s former mistresses that he has a book in which he’s chronicled his amorous adventures, and it’s hoped that, if Violet sees that book and learns the truth, she’ll break off the engagement. But getting the book proves to be harder than it seems. The Baron has one weakness, though: he is a renowned expert on and collector of Chinese pottery. So Holmes has Watson study up on Chinese pottery and go to Gruner’s home in the guise of someone wishing to sell a Ming piece. Watson’s visit has some unintended consequences, but it certainly plays a role in helping Holmes’ client.

Agatha Christie’s The Hollow (AKA Murder After Hours) introduces London potter and sculptor Henrietta Savernake. One weekend, she’s invited to the home of a cousin, Lady Lucy Angkatell. Among the other guests is Henrietta’s lover, John Christow, and his wife, Gerda. Also present are some of Lucy’s other relatives: Midge Hardcastle, Edward Angkatell (who is in love with Henrietta), and David Angkatell. As you can imagine, the weekend does not bode well. On the Sunday afternoon, Hercule Poirot, who has taken a nearby cottage, is invited to lunch. When he arrives, he sees what he thinks is a macabre sort of joke, set up for his ‘benefit.’ John Christow has been shot and is lying by the pool. His killer is standing nearby, holding the weapon. Within seconds, it’s clear to Poirot that this isn’t a tableau: it’s a real murder scene. But does it tell the truth? Poirot works with Inspector Grange to find out who really killed Christow and why. And it’s interesting to see how pottery plays a role in solving the crime. You’re quite right, fans of Murder in Mesopotamia and of The ABC Murders.

In Mary Kelly’s The Spoilt Kill, PI Hedley Nicholson is hired by Luke Shentall, of the Shentall Pottery Factory in Stoke-on-Trent. Someone’s been stealing pottery designs from the factory and selling them to foreign competitors. One of the main suspects is the firm’s top designer, Corinna Wakefield. On the one hand, she’s a likely possibility; she’s quite talented, and has access to everything she’d need to be ‘the mole.’ And, since she’s an ‘outsider,’ no-one knows much about her. On the other hand, there are other possibilities. And the very fact that she’s an ‘outsider’ could prejudice people against her. Then one day, Corinna is on the spot when a body is discovered in a kiln. She says she’s innocent, and Nicholson wants to believe her, especially since he’s fallen for her. But is she? And are the two crimes connected?

Margaret Maron’s Uncommon Clay introduces readers to the Nordan family, a dynasty with a long history of pottery-making. Now the family’s being torn apart by a messy, ugly divorce. James Nordan and Sandra Hitchcock, both highly skilled potters, are separating after twenty-five years. Judge Deborah Knott is in the Asheboro (North Carolina) area to visit the potters’ festival there, and see if she can find a piece that she wants. While she’s there, she’s also on temporary assignment; her role is to oversee the distribution of the Nordan/Hitchcock property and ensure that it’s as equitable as possible. Everything changes, though, when Nordan’s body is found in a kiln. Sandra is the natural most likely suspect, but this case turns out to be more complex than that.

And then there’s Stephen E. Stanley’s Pottery and Poets, which features his sleuth, Luke Littlefield. He is an academic who also writes crime fiction (hmm…). His specialty is cultural anthropology, so, in one plot thread of this novel, he is consulted when a major find is reported in the Cape Cod area. Littlefield is from Maine, so besides his academic credentials, he knows New England and a lot of its history. He is sent a collection of pottery and other relics, and uses it to establish that the dig may be a long-buried 17th Century village. Apparently, a fire swept through the village. It wasn’t a brush fire or a lightning strike, so one mystery concerns how the fire started. The other concerns the unexplained death of the village’s cleric, Reverend Josiah Babbage. It was believed he committed suicide, but did he? In this plot thread, it’s really interesting to see how Littlefield’s knowledge of pottery helps him to draw some conclusions about the village and its people.

And I don’t think I could do a post on pottery without mentioning Sulari Gentill’s Edna Higgins. She is a sculptor, potter, and sometime-model who is very much a free spirit. But she is quite loyal to her friends, among whom is Gentill’s protagonist, Rowland ‘Rowly’ Sinclair. In fact, she’s his muse. During the time when this series takes place (the 1930s), it’s a bit unusual for a woman to chart her own artistic and personal course, but that’s exactly what Edna Higgins does.

Pottery really is fascinating, and so are the people who create it. They have a unique perspective on the world, and the things they make reflect that world. Little wonder we see that perspective in crime fiction.

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from George and Ira Gershwin’s Love is Here to Stay.  

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle, Margaret Maron, Mary Kelly, Stephen E. Stanley, Sulari Gentill

I Know You Have Laid a Trap For Me*

Traps and StingsMost criminals don’t want to be caught. So when the police don’t have enough evidence to pursue a conviction, it can be difficult for them to get a confession from the guilty party. There are, after all, limits to what police are allowed to do to obtain a confession. That’s one reason for which police sometimes use ruses and other setups to get criminals to talk.

This is always a bit tricky for the author of a crime novel. As I say, there are limits to what police can actually do. And for authors who write about amateur sleuths, there are limits to what those sleuths can believably do. Still, if it’s credibly done, a ruse or ‘sting’ can build tension in a story, and serve as an interesting plot point.

Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes uses such means in several of his cases. For example, in The Adventure of the Dancing Men, Holmes and Dr. Watson investigate a series of strange, coded notes that have been left for Elsie Cubitt. Her husband Hilton is so worried about his wife’s panicked reactions to the notes that he’s asked Holmes to look into the matter. One challenge in this case is to decipher the notes. The other is to catch the person sending them. Before Holmes and Watson can do both, there’s a tragedy in which Cubitt is shot. Elsie is the prime suspect, but Holmes doesn’t believe she’s guilty. A few clues give him a very good idea of who is responsible for the notes, and he uses the very code in which those notes were written to ‘flush out’ the killer and solve the case.

Agatha Christie’s Cards on the Table features the stabbing death of the very enigmatic Mr. Shaitana. The only possible suspects in this murder are the four people, guests at a dinner party he hosted, who were playing bridge in the same room when he died. Each claims to be innocent, of course, although each had a powerful motive and the opportunity. Hercule Poirot is among four sleuths who were also at the fateful dinner party, and he works with the other sleuths to find out who was guilty. He doesn’t really have conclusive proof, even towards the end of the story, and he knows that a confession from the criminal will be the only way to prove his case. So he uses a bit of trickery to get that person to tell what happened. It raises an interesting question of what would be permitted in real life. And that’s not the only Christie novel in which ruses are used to get confessions (I know, I know, fans of 4:50 From Paddington).

The first of Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö’s Martin Beck novels, Roseanna, proves to be a very difficult case. It starts when the body of an unknown woman is pulled from Lake Vättern. She has no documentation, and there are no records of missing persons who match her description. After a great deal of time and effort, she is identified as Roseanna McGraw, an American who was on a cruise tour of Sweden. It takes another several months and a few strokes of luck to narrow down the possibilities to one prime suspect. But even then, Beck and his team know that this killer will not simply give in and submit to an arrest. So they arrange a difficult and (for one team member in particular) dangerous setup – a trap to catch the murderer. In the end, the ruse is successful, and the murderer is caught. But it raises an interesting question about cases where police go undercover to solve cases. How much danger is reasonable? More modern police procedurals show how important protecting the safety of operatives has become, and the developments in both procedure and equipment. But there is still danger.

Margaret Maron’s One Coffee With takes place mostly on the campus of Vanderlyn College, where Riley Quinn serves as deputy department chair of the Department of Art. One morning, department secretary Sandy Kepler goes as usual to the college cafeteria to bring back coffee for the members of the department. She returns with it and places the cups in their usual spot. Then there’s a buzz of activity as students and faculty go in and out of the main office where the cups are. One by one, various people get their coffee. Shortly after he takes his cup, Quinn dies of poison. NYPD Lieutenant Sigrid Harald and her assistant Detective Tildon take the case and begin the investigation. As they trace the events leading up to Quinn’s death, they find that just about everyone had motive for killing the victim. What’s more, enough people had access both the poison and to Quinn’s coffee that it’s very difficult to pin down exactly who was responsible. And even after Harald and Tildon deduce who the killer was, they haven’t enough conclusive proof to pursue the case in court. So Harald sets a trap for the killer, using one of the other suspects as ‘bait,’ if you will.

In Andrea Camilleri’s Dance of the Seagull, Vigàta Inspector Salvo Montalbano and his team investigate the disappearance of one of their own. Giuseppe Fazio was looking into a case of smuggling when he went missing, so his colleagues decide to follow the trail that he left. They believe that if they pick up where he left off, so to speak, they’ll find him. That turns out to be the right decision, as Fazio is found, wounded but alive. Getting him safely to a nearby hospital, and keeping him protected, is only part of the challenge the team faces. The other is catching the criminals he was after, especially when they end up being responsible for a brutal murder. Montalbano decides that the best way to catch the guilty party is to set up a trap, so with the help of one of the characters, that’s what he does. And in the end, he’s able to expose the murderer quite publicly.

Ruses, traps, and ‘stings’ can be very tricky. There are limits to what’s allowed and what’s feasible. They can be dangerous, and sometimes they don’t work. But they can add some interesting tension to a story. Which ones have stayed with you?

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Bic Runga’s Captured.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Andrea Camilleri, Arthur Conan Doyle, Maj Sjöwall, Margaret Maron, Per Wahlöö

She’s a Highly Specialized Key Component of Operational Unity*

SecretariesSecretaries and office assistants are often essential to the success of just about any business. The more competent they are, the better the business runs. If you’ve ever had either a very competent or a very incompetent one, you know what I mean.

We see secretaries quite a lot in crime fiction too. Where would Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot be without his secretary Felicity Lemon? Where would Erle Stanley Gardner’s Perry Mason be without Della Street? And where would Donna Leon’s Commissario Guido Brunetti be without Signorina Elettra Zorzi?

The thing about competent secretaries is that very often, they know a lot more about what goes on in a firm than you’d think. And that can make them very vulnerable. There are plenty of examples of this in the genre; here are just a few.

In Agatha Christie’s The Clocks, we meet Sheila Webb, who works for the Cavendish Secretarial and Typewriting Bureau in the town of Crowdean. One afternoon she is sent to Wilbraham Crescent, where her services have been specially requested. When she arrives at the house, she finds that there’s a dead man in the sitting room. Badly shaken, she rushes out of the house – straight into the arms of Colin Lamb, a special agent who’s in the area working on a case of his own. There are some odd things about this particular crime, so Lamb thinks it will interest his father’s friend Hercule Poirot. Poirot and Lamb, together with DI Richard ‘Dick’ Hardcastle, are looking into what happened when there’s another murder. Now Sheila Webb is mixed up in much more than she thinks…

In Dashiell Hammett’s The Thin Man, PI Nick Charles and his wife Nora are visiting New York City when Nick gets reluctantly drawn into a case. Businessman Claude Wynant seems to have disappeared, and his daughter Dorothy wants to track him down. At first, Nick is unwilling to get involved, but the next morning there’s a shocking new development. Wynant’s secretary Julia Wolf is found murdered. There are several suspects, too, including Wynant himself. Even Nick falls under suspicion, since the Wynant family members, Wynant’s business associates and other suspects seem to use Nick and Nora’s home as a gathering place. In the end, Nick untangles the web of secrets and lies and finds out who killed Julia Wolf and why.

Luiz Alfredo Garcia-Roza’s  The Silence of the Rain begins with the death of Richard Carvalho, an executive at the mineral exploration company Planalto Minerações. His body is found in his car, apparently killed by a thief who stole his briefcase and wallet. Inspector Espinosa of the Rio de Janeiro police is called to the scene and begins the investigation. One of the people he wants to interview is Carvalho’s secretary Dona Rose Chaves Benevides. But that turns out to be much more difficult than you’d think. First she’s out sick; then she abruptly disappears. It’s now clear that this death is much more than a case of a robbery gone wrong.

Margaret Maron’s  One Coffee With is the first in her series featuring NYPD Lieutenant Sigrid Harald. In this novel, murder strikes Vanderlyn College’s Department of Art. One morning, department secretary Sandy Kepler goes to the college cafeteria to get coffee for the various faculty members with whom she works. She puts the tray of cups on the top of a filing cabinet and soon, various people come into the department office to get their coffee. Not long afterwards, deputy department chair Riley Quinn dies of what turns out to be poisoning by potassium dichromate. As Harald and her team investigate, they learn that more than one person had a very good reason to poison the victim. Even Sandy herself is a suspect. At the very least, she’s now mixed up in a murder case, just when she was hoping to get her life settled.

In Qiu Xiaolong’s The Enigma of China, Chief Inspector Chen Cao of the Shanghai Police finds himself in an extremely difficult situation. He is a rising cadre in the Party with a bright future. He’s also a very well-respected detective, with a reputation for being ethical. So the Party is eager to have him as a consultant when Zhou Keng, Head of Shanghai’s Housing Development Committee, apparently commits suicide. Zhou became the subject of a Party investigation when evidence that he was corrupt was spread on the Internet. He had been placed in extra-legal detention and was at a secure hotel when he apparently hanged himself. That explanation makes sense considering Zhou was a high-level official who was about to be severely punished. Chen comes under a great deal of pressure to sign off on the suicide explanation, but he isn’t quite convinced. As he investigates, Chen finds that his role as a cop comes up against the realities that he discovers, and he has to make some difficult choices. One of the people he interviews is Zhou’s former secretary Fang Fang. She had a very responsible position and could have been privy to quite a lot of information. Even if she knows nothing about her boss’ fate, she may very well be helpful. That’s especially true given that she was also, by all accounts, Zhou’s ‘little secretary,’ which implies that she did more than just make his appointments and manage his office. As Chen interacts with Fang, we see just how vulnerable this case makes her. The same powerful people who want this case handled in a certain way are just as interested in keeping Fang quiet…

And that’s the thing about being a secretary/assistant. You often get to know a lot about what goes where you work. So when there’s shady business or worse, you get mixed up in it, no matter how innocent you are (or aren’t). These are just a few examples. Over to you.

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Frank Loesser’s A Secretary is Not a Toy.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Dashiell Hammett, Donna Leon, Erle Stanley Gardner, Luiz Alfredo Garcia-Roza, Margaret Maron, Qiu Xiaolong