Category Archives: Ngaio Marsh

Let’s Go Down to the Big Ranch*

RanchesIf you live in suburbia or in a city, you might not think a lot about what it takes to get your milk, cheese, and meat (for those who eat meat) to market. It’s not an easy process. Cattle and sheep ranching are expensive undertakings that require a lot of land, luck with the weather, and hard work. Even with today’s technology, ranching still means long days, especially when calves and lambs are born. It’s not a life for everyone, but it keeps the rancher close to the land.

Ranching is a central part of the economy for many cultures, and it’s certainly found its way into crime fiction. That makes sense, too. As we’ll see, there are lots of places to hide a body on a ranch, and anything can happen there.

In Ngaio Marsh’s Died in the Wool, for instance, New Zealand MP Flossie Rubrick is preparing an important speech that she’s scheduled to deliver. So she goes to an isolated sheep pen on her husband’s ranch to prepare. She doesn’t return, though, until three weeks later, when her body is found inside a bale of wool. The victim’s nephew writes to Scotland Yard’s Inspector Roderick Alleyn about the death; and, since this might be a matter of national security, Alleyn travels to New Zealand to investigate. In the end, the murder turns out to be related to an important secret that Flossie Rubrick had found out about one of her family members.

More than one of Arthur Upfield’s Napoleon ‘Boney’ Bonaparte novels are set on ranches. In The Bushman Who Came Back, for instance, Bony is sent to Mt. Eden, a ranch belonging to Mr. Wooten. Wooten’s widowed housekeeper, Mrs. Bell, is shot one morning, and her seven-year-old daughter Linda disappears. Fearing the worst about Linda, the ranch hands go on a search, and Bony starts to sift through the evidence. On the surface, it looks as though a bushman named Ol’ Fren Yorky was responsible both for the murder and for abducting Linda. No-one wants to believe this of him, since he’s well liked. But the evidence is what it is. Still, the more that Bony learns about the case, the more he comes to believe in Yorky’s innocence. But if he is innocent, then where is Linda? Now, Bony has to go in search of both Yorky and Linda to find out the truth. You’re absolutely right, fans of The Bone is Pointed.

Even Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe, who normally wouldn’t dream of leaving his brownstone home, let alone New York City, visits a ranch in Death of a Dude. Wolfe’s partner Archie Goodwin has accepted an invitation from Lily Rowan to be part of a house party at her ranch in rural Montana. Goodwin’s plan is to have a short visit with Lily and then return to New York. Everything changes, though, when Philip Brodell is shot, and Lily’s ranch manager, Roger Dunning, is accused of the crime. Lily is sure he is innocent, and wants Goodwin (and, by extension, Wolfe) to solve the murder. When Goodwin writes to Wolfe to explain why he’s changed his travel plans, Wolfe takes an interest in the case and makes the unusual decision to travel to Montana.

Steve Hockensmith has created an interesting historical (early 1890s) series whose protagonists are Gustav ‘Old Red’ Amlingmeyer and his brother Otto ‘Big Red.’ At the beginning of the series (Holmes on the Range) they are cowpokes who sign on to work at the Bar VR Ranch in Montana. They know that life as ranch hands isn’t going to be luxurious, but they’ll be able to indulge their pastime of reading Sherlock Holmes stories. Then, a ranch hand dies of a gunshot wound. Another dies after being trampled (but there was no cattle stampede that anyone can remember). Now, Old Red decides to use his ‘deducifyin’’ skills to find out the truth – just like Sherlock Holmes.

The Lone Elk Ranch is the scene for much of the action in Craig Johnson’s Dry Bones. It all starts when a large Tyrannosaurus rex skeleton nicknamed ‘Jen’ is discovered on the ranch. This is a very valuable find, both for the local museum and for science, and there are lots of people who want their hands on it. With stakes in the millions, there are plenty of suspects when the ranch’s owner, a member of the Cheyenne Nation named Danny Lone Elk, is found dead. Sheriff Walt Longmire (now Acting Deputy Attorney for Wyoming) looks into the matter to find out how and why Danny was killed.

And I couldn’t really do a post on cattle and ranching without mentioning Alexander McCall Smith’s Mma Precious Ramotswe. Fans will tell you that she got her start as Botswana’s first lady detective because her father, Obed, had a keen eye for cattle and owned a fine herd. When he passed away, the cattle went to his daughter, and it’s meant a great deal to her to have that security.

There are a lot of other novels that take place on cattle and sheep ranches. They really are effective contexts for a crime story if you think about it. Which ones have stayed with you?


*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Los Lobos’ The Big Ranch. 


Filed under Alexander McCall Smith, Arthur Upfield, Craig Johnson, Ngaio Marsh, Rex Stout, Steve Hockensmith

Is My Timing Right?*

TimingAn interesting post from FictionFan, at FictionFan’s Book Reviews, and the comments we exchanged, have got me thinking about timing. Many different sorts of things can affect what we think of a book we’re reading. There’s the obvious things such as plot, characters and so on. There’s also the matter of personal taste. We’re all different in the sorts of stories we enjoy.

But another, subtler, factor in how we feel about a book is arguably the timing of when we read that book. For the reader, timing can have an impact in several ways. For instance (and this is the sort of thing FictionFan and I were ‘talking’ about), if you read a book when it first comes out, it may feel fresh and new. That can add to your enjoyment of a novel. That’s especially true if the novel adds an innovation to the genre, or in some other way digresses from it. But if you read it later, after other, similar books have been released, you may feel quite different about it.

One example that comes to my mind is Thomas Harris’ The Silence of the Lambs. At the time the novel came out (1988), the psychotic-serial-killer motif wasn’t a major factor in mainstream crime fiction. That novel arguably made room in the genre for that sort of story. Since then, as I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, there’ve been many, many novels with crazed serial killers. Some are better than others. But it’s not a new and innovative theme any more. I wonder how that’s impacted readers who hadn’t previously read The Silence of the Lambs. Would they regard that novel as the trend-setter that it arguably is? Would they see it in a different way?

There’s also the sub-genre that’s recently (in the last few years) been called domestic noir. Of course, there’ve been many novels in which marriages fell apart, and people weren’t what they seemed. But novels such as Julia Crouch’s Cuckoo, S.J. Watson’s Before I Go to Sleep, and Elizabeth Haynes’ Into the Darkest Corner have brought the domestic noir novel to the forefront of current crime fiction. And that raises (at least for me) the question of what today’s readers might think of books such as Margaret Yorke’s Speak For the Dead, which was published in 1988. In that novel, Gordon Matthews marries Carrie Foster, and on the surface, all starts well. But each one has a dark past. Matthews was recently released from prison for killing his first wife, Anne. The way he and his lawyers tell the story, it was a case of manslaughter, and Anne was a promiscuous, alcoholic shrew who pushed her husband too far during an argument. But is that the truth? For her part, Carrie is a former prostitute who gets back on the game a few years after they marry. As the story of their marriage, and the tragedy that follows, goes on, we see a real example of domestic noir. Would readers who’ve experienced plenty of domestic noir see this as a taut, fresh look at a marriage? Would they see it as stale?

There are other ways to look at timing, too, of course. If you’ve just finished reading a series of bleak, ‘hardboiled’ crime novels, you might be ready for something lighter. So work such as Carl Hiaasen’s or Chris Grabenstein’s might appeal. Neither author writes ‘sugar coated’ crime fiction, but there is plenty of wit in it. At another time, though, you might think those very same novels too comic, and perhaps too absurd. The same is true for cosy mysteries. If you’ve just been reading a lot of light crime fiction, you might find work like Julie Hyzy’s White House Chef series too light. On the other hand, if you’ve been reading a lot of dark crime fiction, that same series might really appeal.

Timing matters for authors, too. For instance, after the commercial success of Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl, many other novels with a similar domestic noir theme were released. I’m sure you could list more than I could. On the one hand, the success of Gone Girl allowed those other novels more exposure than they otherwise might have had. Publishers were more willing to take a chance on them, and people were more interested in the themes. On the other hand, do readers think of those other novels as ‘me, too?’ Do they look at them with fresh eyes? This raises questions for the author. Is it a good idea to pick up on a theme that’s had some success, so as to hopefully get more exposure?  Is it a matter of ‘me, too,’ or is it a matter of ‘there’s a market for this sort of book?’ Or is it something else?

And then there’s the element of when in one’s life one reads something. Perhaps you started your crime-fictional journey with classic and Golden-Age crime fiction such as Ngaio Marsh, Agatha Christie, or Anthony Berkeley. Since then, let’s say, you’ve branched out and gotten very interested in the modern hardboiled PI novel (Timothy Hallinan, for instance). Would you still see the work of, say, Arthur Conan Doyle in the same way if you re-read it?

There’s a strong argument that timing has an effect on what we think of what we read. Do you see that with your own reading? Do you ever go back and re-read a novel at another time, just to see if your first impression was lasting? If you’re a writer, do you think about timing when you choose your themes, contexts and so on?

Thanks, FictionFan, for the inspiration. Now, may I strongly suggest that the next stop on your blog round be FictionFan’s excellent blog. There, you’ll find fine reviews, interesting observations, and real wit. And Mr. Darcy.


*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Foreigner’s Hot Blooded.


Filed under Agatha Christie, Anthony Berkeley, Arthur Conan Doyle, Carl Hiaasen, Chris Grabenstein, Elizabeth Haynes, Gillian Flynn, Julia Crouch, Julie Hyzy, Margaret Yorke, Ngaio Marsh, S.J. Watson, Thomas Harris, Timothy Hallinan

It’s a Bedside Mystery*

Crime Fictional Crime Fiction FansYou probably already know this, but there are a lot of crime fiction fans out there. What’s interesting, too, is that there are plenty of fictional crime fiction fans, too. That makes sense if you think about it, because the most talented crime writers are also avid readers. And many of them read crime fiction. So it’s only logical that their interest in the genre would find its way into their writing.

In Edumnd Crispin’s The Case of the Golden Fly, for instance, we are introduced to Oxford academic Dr. Gervase Fen. In that novel, journalist Nigel Blake returns to Oxford to do a story on Robert Warner’s new play Metromaina. He’s also there because, quite frankly, he’s an admirer of Helen Haskell, who has a part in the play. While he’s at Oxford, Blake visits his former mentor Fen. So he’s on hand when Yseut Haskell (Helen’s half-sister and a star in her own right) is shot. The case is a difficult one, since she was alone at the time, and no-one was seen leaving or entering her room. But Fen works out how the murder was done. Here’s what he says as he works out the answer:

‘Lord, Lord what a fool I’ve been! ‘And yes – it fits – absolutely characteristic. Heaven grant Gideon Fell never becomes privy to my lunacy; I should never hear the end of it.’’

That’s, of course, a reference to John Dickson Carr’s sleuth, Dr. Gideon Fell. It’s an interesting example of how crime-fictional detectives work their way into other crime fiction.

In Agatha Christie’s Murder in Mesopotamia, noted American archaeologist Eric Leidner hires a nurse, Amy Leatheran, to help look after his wife, Louise. Louise has been having difficulty with anxiety, and Nurse Leatheran is hoping to help ease her nerves. She soon discovers that her patient has been seeing faces at windows, and hearing hands tapping. It may be just a symptom, so to speak, but Louise is convinced that someone is trying to kill her. What’s more, she knows who: her first husband, Frederick Bosner, who was thought to be dead for many years. Nurse Leatheran isn’t convinced that’s the case, until one afternoon when Louise is murdered in her room. Hercule Poirot is in the area, and is persuaded to investigate the murder. On the afternoon of the killing, Nurse Leatheran is in her own room, resting:

‘I was reading Death in a Nursing Home – really a most exciting story… When I put the book down at last (it was the red-headed parlourmaid, and I’d never suspected her once!) and looked at my watch I was quite surprised to find it was twenty minutes to three!’

Fans of both Christie and Ngaio Marsh will know that this snippet is a veiled reference to Marsh’s The Nursing Home Murder. And no, Christie doesn’t give away the real killer in that novel.

Patricia Stoltey’s Sylvia Thorn is a retired Florida judge. She’s also a crime fiction reader. In The Prairie Grass Murders, her brother, Willie Grisseljon, is visiting their home town in Illinois. While he’s there, he discovers the body of an unknown man on the property the Grisslejon family used to own. When Willie reports the murder, he’s locked up as a vagrant and ordered to have a psychiatric evaluation. He calls his sister, and Sylvia travels to Illinois to arrange for his release. But when they go to the site where he found the body, there’s no sign that the body was ever there. Now, Willie is determined to prove he’s not crazy, that there was a murder. He and Sylvia get to the truth about the case, and Sylvia returns to Florida. But her troubles aren’t over…  At one point, she’s looking forward to taking a break from the events of this mystery:
‘…I could spend a few more hours on the balcony with my book and a glass of wine. If I finished the [Sue] Grafton paperback, I’d start right in on the latest Park Ranger adventures of [Nevada Barr’s] Anna Pigeon. Escapist reading at its best.’

Even a fictional sleuth enjoys spending time with…a fictional sleuth.

Angela Savage’s Jayne Keeney also enjoys crime fiction. In Behind the Night Bazaar, she travels from Bangkok, where she’s based, to Chiang Mai, to visit her friend Didier ‘Didi’ de Montpasse. Both are bibliophiles, but they have different tastes. So some of their time is spent trying to ‘convert’ each other with different sorts of crime fiction. Everything changes, though, when Didi’s partner Nou is killed. When Didi himself is killed (allegedly while he was resisting arrest for Nou’s murder), Keeney decides to clear his name. And in The Half Child, we learn that Keeney’s love of crime fiction leads her to a particular bookshop – and to Rajiv Patel, who is helping his uncle run the shop. Patel becomes her partner in business and in life. See where a love of crime fiction can take you?

And then there’s Rodeo Grace Garnet, whom we meet in C.B. McKenzie’s Bad Country. He’s a former rodeo star who now does occasional PI work. That’s how he meets Katherine Rocha, who wants him to find out the truth about the death of her teenage grandson, Samuel. According to the police reports, he was possibly shot, and knocked off a bridge; and his grandmother wants to know who’s responsible. So Garnet starts asking questions. At one point, he’s planning a bit of a ‘road trip.’ Here’s part of what he packs:
‘…his camera, eavesdropping and recording gear, binoculars, pepper spray, a sap, a Tony Hillerman…’

That choice seems particularly appropriate, since this novel takes place in the same Southwest region of the US that features in many of Hillerman’s novels.

There are plenty of other examples of fictional sleuths who read about fictional sleuths (am I right, fans of James W. Fuerst’s Huge?). It’s not surprising, considering the popularity of the genre, and considering that crime writers often read the work of other crime writers. Which fictional crime fiction fans have stayed with you?



*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Tavares’ Whodunit.


Filed under Agatha Christie, Angela Savage, C.B. McKenzie, Edmund Crispin, James W. Fuerst, John Dickson Carr, Ngaio Marsh, Patricia Stoltey

I Was Running For the Door*

Creepy PlacesI was reading an excellent review by Bernadette at Reactions to Reading, when I was struck by a comment she made about the setting of Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None. As you’ll see if you read her review (which you should!), the post itself wasn’t about that novel. It wasn’t even, really, about setting. But in the course of it, Bernadette mentioned that,

‘Insular settings can provide a powerful sense of place in their own right (I’m still having nightmares about the house in Dame Christie’s And Then There Were None) …’

She’s right. Settings such as that house can add a great deal to the tension in a story. In this particular novel, knowing that the people on the island can’t escape makes the story that much eerier. So I can see how that house would stay with a reader.

There are plenty of other crime-fictional novels, too, where we see the impact of the insular setting. Here are just a few that have stayed with me. I know you’ll have your own selection.

In Christianna Brand’s Green For Danger, Inspector Cockrill travels to Heron Park Hospital, which has been converted for wartime (WWII) military use. Local postman Joseph Higgins has died, apparently a tragic, but accidental, death on the operating table. But Higgins’ widow insists that he was murdered. Cockrill starts asking questions, particularly of the seven people most closely associated with Higgins during his hospital stay. He soon learns that this case isn’t at all as it seemed on the surface. As he starts to home in on the killer, he insists that all of his suspects stay together as much as possible. That, plus the fact that two people end up dead in the same operating theatre, makes the hospital a really insular setting that gets creepier and creepier as the story goes on – at least for me. There’s something about that sort of setting, isn’t there, fans of Ngaio Marsh’s The Nursing Home Murder?

In John Alexander Graham’s Something in the Air, Columbia University Professor of Law Jake Landau is on a flight from Boston to New York when a bomb goes off (this novel was written before today’s careful screening of passengers). Landau’s friend and attorney Martin Ross is killed in the tragedy, and of course, Landau wants answers. But the airline people aren’t very forthcoming. And, since he’s not a police officer, neither is anyone else, including the police who are investigating the incident. So Landau starts asking questions on his own. His questions get too close for comfort for the powerful international drugs ring that’s connected to this bombing, so they target Landau. Without giving away spoilers, I can say that there’s a really memorable scene at New York’s Grand Central Station that’s stayed in my mind. As it is, the station has a long history (it was built about 1871). It’s large, with lots of different passageways and so on. It can feel very creepy, and Graham takes advantage of that.

P.D. James’ Death of an Expert Witness has as its focus Hoggatt’s Laboratory in East Anglia. It’s a private forensic laboratory that performs different sorts of tests in cases of unnatural death. As such, it’s used by both sides when a murder case is tried in court. One night, Dr. Edwin Lorrimer, one of the senior staff at the laboratory, is working late on a recently-opened case when he is bludgeoned. Commander Adam Dalgliesh is assigned to the investigation. One thing he and DI John Massingham quickly learn is that Lorrimer had very strict security procedures, especially after normal working hours. So it’s unlikely that anyone ‘on the outside’ could be the killer. That leaves Lorrimer’s colleagues and subordinates, and that’s a wide field. Lorrimer was much disliked, and for good reason. As Dalgliesh and Massingham look into the matter, the lab itself comes under plenty of scrutiny (how many entrances, where are the windows, etc.). It takes on a sort of eerie personality of its own, especially at night.

There’s also Dennis Lehane’s Shutter Island. In that novel, U.S. Marshal Teddy Daniels travels to Ashecliffe Hospital for the Criminally Insane, which is located on Shutter Island, in Massachusetts’ Outer Harbor. With him is his assistant, Chuck Aule. They’re there because one of the patients, Rachel Solando, has escaped, and is loose somewhere on the island. She’s a dangerous person, and that alone is reason enough to want to find her. But as Daniels and Aule soon discover, there’s much more at stake here than just one escaped prisoner, and all sorts of things are going on in the ward from whence she escaped. Then a storm comes up, which makes the investigation even more difficult. Throughout the story (and the film, if you saw it), the hospital compound is depicted in a very eerie way. It’s a former wartime hospital, converted for postwar use. It’s old and, since it’s on an island, it’s isolated. And there’s the fact that it’s psychiatric facility for the most dangerous of criminals. It’s the sort of place that stays with many readers. And so does the island.

Of course, I couldn’t do a post on eerie, insular places without mentioning the Bates Motel, vividly depicted in Alfred Hitchock’s Psycho. The medium Hitchcock used to tell the story is especially effective at evoking that isolated, creepy place. It’s definitely not a welcoming stop for the night. I know, I know, fans of Daphne du Maurier’s Jamaica Inn

Bernadette’s right about some places in crime novels. They really can be insular, eerie, and frightening. And that can make them stay with the reader long after the novel’s finished.



*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from The Eagles’ Hotel California.


Filed under Agatha Christie, Alfred Hitchcock, Christianna Brand, Daphne du Maurier, Dennis Lehane, John Alexander Graham, Ngaio Marsh, P.D. James

Simply Having a Wonderful Christmastime*

Christmas PreparationAt this time of year, people often make plans to spend the holidays with family or with friends. Some take getaway holidays. Either way, it can mean a lot of planning, travel hassles and so on. And that’s to say nothing of the gift buying that’s usually involved. If all of that leaves you stressed, it might be a comfort to know that some people spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day in some very unusual (and sometimes quite dangerous) situations. At least they do in crime fiction.

Consider Agatha Troy, who spends a very unusual Christmas in Ngaio Marsh’s Tied up in Tinsel. She’s been commissioned by Hilary Bill-Tasman to paint his portrait, and agrees to spend Christmas at his home, Halbards, to complete the task. Since her husband, Chief Inspector Roderick Alleyn, is out of the country on a case, the timing works out perfectly. Troy soon finds, though, that this is a very unusual place. For one thing, Bill-Tasman believes firmly in the redemptive power of work and purpose. So he only hires former inmates; in fact, each of his employees has been convicted of murder. Still, Troy gets started on the portrait. Then, Bill-Tasman’s uncle, Fleaton ‘Uncle Flea’ Forrester and his wife arrive for Christmas, along with Uncle Flea’s longtime servant Alfred Moult. The plan is for Uncle Flea to dress up as a Druid (instead of the more conventional Father Christmas) to give out presents to the local children at a large party to be held at the house. On the day of the party, though, Uncle Flea is not well, so Moult takes his place. After he passes out the gifts, Moult disappears, and is later found dead. And it turns out that more than one person had a very good motive for murder.

In Michael Connelly’s The Black Ice, LAPD police detective Harry Bosch is ‘on call’ on Christmas Day, and spending the day at home. It’s ordinary enough to stay home at Christmas, but everything changes when Bosch hears news over the police scanner of a body found at a cheap motel. He’s surprised that no-one notified him, since he’s on call. He’s also surprised that one of the high-ranking department members has gone out to investigate. Bosch goes to the scene, only to find that the dead man is a fellow police officer, Calexico ‘Cal’ Moore. The official account of the death is that Moore was a ‘dirty’ copper who committed suicide. But there are hints that this was not a suicide, so Bosch decides to ask some questions. He’s immediately shunted to another set of unsolved cases that he’s tasked with closing before the end of the year. But of course, anyone who knows Harry Bosch will know that he doesn’t give up that easily…

Liza Marklund’s The Bomber begins a week before Christmas, when a major explosion rocks Stockholm. The city’s been chosen to host the next Olympic Games, and to everyone’s dismay, the bomb went off in Victoria Stadium, in Olympic Village. Annika Bengtzon, crime editor for Kvällspressen, goes to the scene only to learn that there’s been a death. Christine Farhage, one of Stockholm’s business and civic leaders, was in the building at the time of the explosion. There’s talk that this might have been an act of terrorism. But there are other possibilities, too. There’s soon evidence that this might have been an ‘inside job’ committed by someone connected with the upcoming events. So Bengtzon and her staff have a lot of ground to cover as they investigate. And the trail leads to a very unusual and dangerous place for Bengtzon to spend Christmas Eve.

Nicci French’s Blue Monday begins in late November, but people are already getting into ‘holiday mode.’ And that’s just what London psychotherapist Frieda Klein hates most:

‘She loathed Christmas, and she loathed the run-up to Christmas, the frenzied shoppers, the tat in the shops, the lights that were put up too early in the streets, the Christmas songs that belted out of shops day after day…’

Soon enough, Frieda’s got much more to think about than her dislike of Christmas. Four-year-old Matthew Faraday has gone missing, and police efforts haven’t turned up any leads. Then, Frieda begins to get a very uncomfortable feeling about one of her patients, Alan Dekker. Some of the things that he tells her suggest that her work with Dekker may be in some way connected to Matthew’s disappearance. One of the issues she has to face is how much to tell DCI Malcolm Karlsson, who’s investigating the case. What’s the role of patient/therapist privacy? And how useful is what she could tell, anyway? Each in a different way, she and the police follow up on this investigation. In the end, they find out what happened to Matthew, and how it connects with another disappearance twenty-two years earlier. Through all of this, and mostly because of her feelings about Christmas, Frieda hasn’t done anything to prepare. Still, she allows herself to be talked into having her sister Olivia and niece Chlöe visit. Through a series of plot events, she actually ends up having a group of people at her house for Christmas. One of them even says,

‘‘What a collection of left-behinds and misfits we are.’’

It’s a very odd and unusual Christmas for Frieda, especially given she doesn’t celebrate the holiday. But as she herself says,

‘‘We could do worse.’’

And they could.

Just ask Anthondy Bidulka’s Saskatoon PI Russell Quant. In Flight of Aquavit, Quant has a new client, Daniel Guest, who’s being blackmailed. Guest is a ‘respectably married’ successful accountant, who has also had some secret trysts with men. Rather than coming out, as Quant thinks he should, Guest is desperate to have the blackmailer found and stopped. In the course of that investigation, Quant finds himself looking into a case of murder as well, and ends up in an extremely dangerous predicament with his friend Jared Lowe. The two are stranded outside just before Christmas Eve – a life-threatening situation in Saskatchewan. They manage to find shelter just in time, but they are still trapped, with no way home. It’s an very unusual Christmas Eve for them.

So next time you’re feeling stressed because of house guests, gifts, travel, or the myriad other things that can ‘pile on’ at this time of the year, keep one thing in mind. It really could be a lot worse…


*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Paul McCartney’s Wonderful Christmastime.


Filed under Anthony Bidulka, Liza Marklund, Michael Connelly, Ngaio Marsh, Nicci French