Category Archives: Perri O’Shaughnessy

So Much We Take For Granted*

I’ll bet you’ve had this experience. You walk into a room, flick the light switch, and… nothing happens. Or you click to get online, only to get the message that there is no Internet connection. It’s a bit of a jolt when that sort of thing happens. Part of the reason is, of course, that you’re annoyed when the electricity, or the hot water, or the Internet, or…. isn’t available. But another part of it is that we take a lot of those things for granted. When something we take for granted suddenly isn’t there, this can be quite a jolt.

That jolt’s irritating at best in real life. But it can add interesting tension and even suspense to a crime novel. And the way in which characters cope with those jolts can add character depth.

In Agatha Christie’s Hickory Dickory Death, we are introduced to a group of young people who live in a hostel for students. Everyone begins to get unsettled when a strange series of petty thefts begin to occur. As one example, one of the residents, Sally Finch, is planning to go out to a party. Her outfit includes a new pair of evening shoes. But, when she gets ready for the party, she finds that one of the shoes is missing. There’s quite a search, but it’s not found. Sally took for granted that the shoes were both in her closet, but she was wrong. There are other jolts like that as well which add to the atmosphere and tension in the story. The manager, Mrs. Hubbard, tells her sister, Felicity Lemon, what’s happened. Miss Lemon tells her employer, Hercule Poirot, who agrees to look into the matter. When one of the other residents, Celia Austin, confesses to some of the pilfering, everyone thinks the matter is settled. Then, Celia is murdered two nights later, and it’s clear that something much more is going on.

In Gail Bowen’s Deadly Appearances, academician and political scientist Joanne Kilbourn is attending a community barbecue, at which the main speaker is to be Androu ‘Andy’ Boychuk. He’s an up-and-coming politician, and his speech is an important one. During his remarks, he suddenly collapses and dies of what turns out to be poison. Boychuk was a friend of Kilbourn’s, so she grieves his loss. In part to cope with that, she decides to write a biography of his life. And that’s how she begins to find out the truth about his death. In the meantime, something mysterious is happening. Kilbourn begins to show signs of illness. She’s losing weight rapidly, and there are other symptoms, too. As her health, which she’s always taken for granted, starts to fail, Kilbourn gets more and more anxious. And that sub-plot adds a layer of suspense to the story.

Alex Scarrow’s Last Light and Afterlight tell the story of the Sutherland family. Andy Sutherland, his wife, Jenny, and their two children are caught in the global upheaval that results when the world’s supply of oil is deliberately cut off. Now, millions of things that people have taken for granted are no longer available. Of course, that includes most forms of transportation. As it happens, the members of the family are in four different places when the oil supply is stopped, so a major part of the plot in Last Light is their attempts to reunite, and to find ways to make do without the oil they’ve always taken for granted. Afterlight takes up the story ten years after the events of Last Light. At this point, Jenny Sutherland is the leader of a small group of people who’ve made a home on an abandoned North Sea oil rig. One of the main plot threads here is the story of what happens when the group hears that another group, housed in London’s Millennium Dome, may have access to oil. Among other things, it’s an interesting look at how frantically people try to get back what they’ve taken for granted (ever kept flicking a light switch, even after you know the power’s off?).

In both A.S.A. Harrison’s The Silent Wife and Perri O’Shaughnessy’s Breach of Promise, there’s an important plot point of long-time couples ending their common-law marriages. In both cases, the couples never legally married, and that adds a real complication. Both couples lived together for many for many years, and that led to certain assumptions. When the relationships end, this puts the women (Jodi Brett in The Silent Wife and Lindy Markov in Breach of Promise) in jeopardy. For instance, they’ve taken their homes for granted for years, until the day that they are served with formal notices of eviction. And, since the US states they live in don’t have protection for common-law spouses, neither woman has much legal recourse. It all adds a great deal of tension to both novels, and it’s interesting to see how these characters react to suddenly not having the home they’ve taken for granted.

And then there’s Zoran Drvenkar’s You. In one plot thread of this novel, a 1995 snowstorm blocks the road between Bad Hersfeld and Eisenach. Suddenly, people who’d taken for granted a clear road and just over 35 minutes of driving time find everything changed. Many cars are stranded on the road, and even emergency vehicles can’t get through. People have to do what they can to stay warm and safe, and even finding food won’t be easy. A man named the Traveler takes advantage of this situation, and works his way among the stranded cars, killing twenty-six people. He then makes his getaway without being caught. His story later merges with other important plot points, and we learn more about him, and what he does after these murders.

It’s always a jolt when something you’ve taken for granted simply isn’t there. And it takes adjustment – sometimes a lot of adjustment. That tension can add much to a crime story.


*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Dave Matthews’ One Sweet World.


Filed under A.S.A. Harrison, Agatha Christie, Alex Scarrow, Gail Bowen, Perri O'Shaughnessy, Zoran Drvenkar

He Said, She Said, She Said, He Said*

One of the hardest things to do is sort out the truth when two people tell very different stories about something. The classic example of this can happen when there’s a possibility that sexual assault occurred. Each party may say something very different, and it all has to be sorted out. Was there sex? Was it consensual? Were both parties in a position to give consent? There are other questions, too, that have to be addressed in situations like this. And it’s sometimes quite difficult to find out what actually happened, especially when neither party may be telling the complete truth.  And this is only one sort of circumstance when two people might tell very different versions of the same story. You see it in certain civil cases, university or company grievance cases, and so on.

It’s also there in crime fiction, and that makes a lot of sense. There are all sorts of possibilities for plot development. And there are many opportunities for tension and suspense. And such plot elements are effective for creating an unreliable narrator.

In Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile, for instance, we are introduced to wealthy, beautiful Linnet Ridgeway Doyle. She and her new husband, Simon, take a trip through the Middle East as a part of their honeymoon trip, and all’s well except for one thing. Linnet’s former best friend, Jacqueline ‘Jackie’ de Bellefort seems to show up everywhere they go. Simon was engaged to Jackie before he met Linnet, and things are very strained between the former friends. In fact, matters get so bad that Linnet asks Hercule Poirot, who is in the same hotel, to get Jackie to stop following the newlyweds. Poirot speaks to Jackie and to Simon as well, and gets three different stories from the three people who are involved. Then, the Doyles leave for a cruise of the Nile. Poirot’s on the same cruise, and to everyone’s surprise, so is Jackie. On the second night of the cruise, Linnet is shot. Jackie is the most likely suspect, but it’s soon proven that she couldn’t have shot the victim. So, Poirot has to look elsewhere for the killer. And it’s interesting to see how the real truth about Simon, Jackie, and Linnet is woven into the story.

Gail Bowen’s A Killing Spring features her sleuth, academician and political scientist Joanne Kilbourn. In one plot thread of the novel, one of Kilbourn’s students, Kellee Savage, comes to her with a claim of sexual harassment. There’s evidence, too. Kellee says that the person responsible is another student, Val Massey, but that no-one believes her. At first, Kilbourn suggests that Kellee go to the university office that handles such grievances; Kellee says she’s already done that, but to no avail. Then one night, Kellee happens to be in a bar with a group of other people. She’s already had plenty to drink when Val walks in. She accuses him in a public, ugly way before she rushes out of the bar. Then, she goes missing. This turns out to be related to another incident, the murder of Journalism professor Reed Gallagher. And woven through the story is the question of what really happened between Val Massey and Kellee Savage. She was harassed, but was he responsible?

In A.S.A. Harrison’s The Silent Wife, we are introduced to Jodi Brett and Todd Gilbert, a successful Chicago couple who’ve been together twenty years. She’s a psychotherapist; he is a developer. Then, Todd begins an affair with Natasha Kovacs, the daughter of his business partner. He’s strayed before, but this time, it’s different. Natasha discovers that she’s pregnant, and she wants to get married and have a family. Todd goes along with the idea, saying that’s what he wants, too. And it ought to be straightforward, since he and Jodi were not legally married, and there’s no common-law marriage provision in Illinois. Todd’s attorney persuades him to send a formal eviction notice to Jodi, so as to protect his assets. And Jodi’s attorney tells her that there isn’t much that can be done. Since they weren’t married, she has no legal claim on the home they shared. Things begin to spiral out of control for both Todd and Jodi, and as they do, we see the way each perceives what happens. Without spoiling the story, I can say that neither is viewing things entirely honestly.

There’s a similar situation in Perri O’Shaughnessy’s Breach of Promise. Lindy and Mike Markov, who’ve been together twenty years, own a very successful Lake Tahoe business. Then, Lindy discovers that Mike’s having an affair with one of his co-workers, Rachel Pembroke. As if that’s not bad enough, Lindy is served with eviction papers, ordering her to vacate the home they’ve shared. She’s also removed from her company position, and will be given no compensation. In desperation, she turns to attorney Nina Reilly to help her launch a civil suit. It’s not going to be easy, though. For one thing, Mike’s attorney has the reputation of being a ‘courtroom tiger.’ For another, Reilly makes the shocking discovery that the Markovs were never legally married. This makes all of Lindy’s claims tenuous at best. Still, there’s a chance for a win, and Reilly takes the case. A jury is empaneled and the case is heard in court. Then, a shocking event changes everything, forcing Reilly to make new plans, and putting her in real danger. Throughout the novel, especially in the courtroom scenes, we see how ‘he said/she said’ plays an important role in what the jury hears.

And then there’s William Deverell’s Trial of Passion, the first of his novels to feature attorney Arthur Beauchamp. Beauchamp has recently retired from his successful Vancouver law business, and moved to Garibaldi Island, a quiet sort of ‘hippie’ refuge. He’s drawn, very reluctantly, back to the firm’s activity when Jonathan O’Donnell, acting dean of law at the University of British Columbia, is charged with rape. His accuser, Kimberley Martin, is a student in the school of law; she’s also engaged to wealthy and socially prominent Clarence de Remy Brown. O’Donnell swears he didn’t commit rape, and insists that Beauchamp take his case. Finally, Beauchamp agrees to get involved. As the story goes on, we learn what each of the parties to the case say about what happened. And, bit by bit, the layers are peeled away to reveal the truth about the night in question.

And that’s the thing about ‘he said/she said’ sorts of cases. It can be very difficult to get at the truth. And, even when you get there, it’s sometimes completely different to what either person says.


*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Richard Thompson’s Razor Dance. 


Filed under A.S.A. Harrison, Agatha Christie, Gail Bowen, Perri O'Shaughnessy, William Deverell

Pressure, Pushing Down on Me*

In the US, one of the last major hurdles for Ph.D. candidates is defending their dissertations. I understand it’s the same in many other places, too. If you have a Ph.D. yourself, or you’ve sat in on one of these events, then you know it’s a very intense experience. As this is posted, it’s my ‘dissertation anniversary,’ which has me thinking about the process. Candidates spend weeks or even months preparing their presentations of their material, as well as responses to possible questions they may get from members of their dissertation committees (and, at times, the audience). And, of course, those questions may be about any aspect of the dissertation, so the candidate needs to be thoroughly familiar with every bit of the material. It’s nerve-wracking, to say the least.

The thing about defending a dissertation is that it’s a bit difficult to describe, since it doesn’t have a lot of obvious parallels in other fields. But a look at crime fiction can help give a few insights.

Getting ready to defend a dissertation is a little like rehearsing for a performance. Just as actors must know their lines and musicians must know their pieces, Ph.D. candidates have to have their presentations well-prepared. We see the intensity of rehearsal in a lot of crime fiction. For instance, Christine Poulson’s Stage Fright sees her protagonist, Cassandra James, asked to adapt a Victorian novel, East Lynne, for a stage production. She’s Head of the English Department at St. Etheldreda’s College, Cambridge, and her specialty is Victorian literature. So, she’s the right choice for the job. All starts out well enough, and rehearsals begin. But then, Melissa Meadows, who is to take a leading role in the play, tells James that someone is stalking her. Then, she goes missing. This throws rehearsals into chaos, and, when she doesn’t return, leads to the investigation of a possible murder.

Fans of Ngaio Marsh, Simon Brett, and Deborah Nicholson, among others, will know that their novels also take the reader ‘backstage.’ In such novels, we see how many times material has to be prepared and how important timing is. We also see the suspense, nerves and tension that come out under so much pressure. It’s the same when one’s preparing to defend a dissertation.

Defending a dissertation isn’t really entertainment, though. Candidates need to be prepared to address challenges to everything about their work. They need to examine each aspect of their dissertations, from the topic, to the data collection, to the data analysis, and more. In that sense, preparing to defend a dissertation is a little like preparing for a trial. A good attorney prepares thoroughly for each trial. That includes working with witnesses and, possibly, the defendant. It also includes looking carefully at each aspect of the case, and addressing possible weaknesses. Attorneys know that any serious weaknesses in a case will be exploited by the other side. So, they do everything possible to prevent that. Admittedly, the Ph.D. candidate doesn’t risk prison. But it’s still quite a high-stakes process.

We see that sort of preparation in work by, for instance Scott Turow, John Grisham, Robert Rotenberg, and Paul Levine. The writing team of ‘Perri O’Shaughnessy’ also explore this sort of pre-trial work in their Nina Reilly novels.

Presenting one’s material before the dissertation committee, and fielding questions, isn’t exactly like a trial. The role of the dissertation committee is to support the candidate. After all, if the candidate doesn’t do well, this reflects on the committee, too – in particular on the candidate’s advisor/tutor, who generally chairs the committee.

In that way, defending a dissertation is a bit like a major sports competition. On the one hand, the player has to work very hard, and coaches can be difficult to satisfy. The Olympic Games, the World Series, the World Cup, and other such contests, all require discipline and focus. And coaches and trainers push and challenge players to get the most from them. At the same time, their role is to be allies and support systems.

Alison Gordon’s crime novels give readers a good look at what it’s like to play for a Major League baseball team. Readers see how important the actual games can be, and what the roles of coaches and trainers are. John Daniell’s The Fixer offers some similar insight into the world of rugby. And there’s Harlan Coben’s Myron Bolitar series, which takes the perspective of a sports agent. In all of these novels and series, we see how pivotal a game or series of games can be. That stress and tension is quite similar to what it’s like to defend a dissertation.

As I say, it’s a little difficult to describe getting ready to defend a dissertation. It’s a singular experience, and it challenges Ph.D. candidates to think about their work in ways they probably wouldn’t otherwise. But there is nothing quite like being informed you’ve passed, and having your committee address you as ‘Doctor.’ I often think it would actually be a solid context for a crime novel. There’s tension, intense preparation, possible ego clashes, and there’s no telling what the candidate might uncover in pursuit of that all-important data set. If you went through this process, I’d love to hear your experiences. I still remember mine, even after a number of years.


*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Queen and David Bowie’s Under Pressure.


Filed under Alison Gordon, Christine Poulson, Deborah Nicholson, Harlan Coben, John Daniell, John Grisham, Ngaio Marsh, Paul Levine, Perri O'Shaughnessy, Robert Rotenberg, Scott Turow, Simon Brett

I’ve Been Moved By Some Things That I’ve Learned*

Lessons From ReadingOne of the real pleasures of reading, at least for me, is the things that I learn about when I read. My guess is, that’s true of most book lovers. Of course a good plot and believable, interesting characters matter. Otherwise a novel becomes a textbook. But a well-written story can also offer readers insights and information that they didn’t know before. And perhaps it’s just my perspective, but I think that knowledge is a good thing. We all know different things and read different books, so for each of us, what we learn will also be different. But, speaking strictly for myself, here are a few things I’ve learned from the crime fiction that I’ve read.


Different Communities I Didn’t Even Know Were There


Of course people migrate all over the world. But I’ve still been surprised to learn about some of the communities there are in some unexpected places. For instance, in Craig Johnson’s Death Without Company, Absaroka County, Wyoming Sheriff Walt Longmire is faced with a very difficult crime. Mari Baroja, a resident of the Durant Home for Assisted Living, is found dead of what turns out to be poison. Longmire, his deputy Victoria ‘Vic’ Moretti, and new hire Santiago Saizarbitoria begin sifting through the evidence, starting with the members of the victim’s family. Bit by bit, we learn about Mari Baroja’s past, and how incidents from fifty years ago have influenced what happens in the present day. One of the interesting things about this novel is that the victim is a member of Wyoming’s Basque community. It turns out that Wyoming has a large Basque population, something I hadn’t known before. But Johnson weaves that into the story so that it comes up naturally, rather than feeling forced.

Another community I learned about through crime fiction is the Ukrainian community in Canada’s prairie provinces. We get a look at that community in Gail Bowen’s first Joanne Kilbourn mystery Deadly Appearances. Up-and-coming politician Androu ‘Andy’ Boychuk is poisoned during a speech that he’s giving at a Sunday School picnic. Kilbourn was a friend of Boychuk’s as well as being one of his political campaign workers. So she’s devastated at his loss. She decides to write a biography of Boychuk to help her deal with her grief. In the process of finding out about Boychuk’s life, she also finds out who murdered him. And readers find out about Saskatchewan’s Ukrainian community, to which Boychuk belonged. Anthony Bidulka’s PI Russell Quant is also a member of that community since his mother is Ukrainian, and readers learn about Saskatchewan Ukrainians in the novels that feature him. In those series and in Nelson Brunanski’s John ‘Bart’ Bartowski series, readers learn about the Ukrainian influence on the Canadian prairie. There are even Ukrainian language programs in some schools in that part of the country.

I’ve learned about other communities I hadn’t been aware of too. There just isn’t room to mention all of them.


Things About the Legal System


One of the things that I enjoy about well-written legal mysteries is that sometimes, they turn on an important point of law that isn’t always widely known. So besides solid characters and plotting, I’ve also learned some interesting legal precedents and facts.

For example, in Perri O’Shaughnessy’s Breach of Promise, the case of Lindy Markov hinges on what’s been called ‘palimony’ in the United States. Lindy and her common-law husband Mike have been together for twenty years when Mike has an affair with his company’s vice-president for financial services Rachel Pembroke. Very soon Lindy finds herself removed from the company position she’s held and ordered to evacuate the home she’s shared with Mike for their entire relationship. She hires Tahoe attorney Nina Reilly to sue Mike on her behalf for her share of the profits from the company she helped him build. In part, this case has to do with the rights that a common-law spouse has. The answer isn’t clear-cut, and it varies by jurisdiction. This novel also taught me a lot about the process of jury selection and the work involved in preparing for a major trial.

Martin Clark’s The Legal Limit features Virginia brothers Mason and Gates Hunt. The two share an unhappy childhood, but that’s about all they have in common. Gates squanders his athletic ability and ends up living on his girlfriend’s Welfare money and money he gets from his mother. Mason on the other hand makes use of every opportunity he gets, wins an academic scholarship to university and then goes on to law school. One night, he’s with his brother when an argument flares up between Gates and his romantic rival Wayne Thompson. Before anyone really knows what’s happened, Gates has shot Thompson. Out of a sense of duty, Mason helps his brother cover up the crime and the Hunt brothers move on. Years later, Gates is arrested for cocaine trafficking and begs his brother, now a Virginia commonwealth prosecutor, to help get him out of prison. Mason refuses, and Gates then threatens that if his brother doesn’t co-operate, he’ll implicate him in the still-unsolved Thompson murder. Mason calls his brother’s bluff and soon enough he’s indicted for a murder he didn’t commit. With the police targeting him and Gates willingly lying about the murder, Mason doesn’t have many options. But there’s one point of law that may be exactly what he needs. It’s a fact of law that I didn’t know until I read this novel. With help from his deputy prosecutor Custis Norman, Mason uses that legal point to his advantage.

Those are of course just two examples of novels where an important aspect of the law is explored. When they’re done well, such novels make points of law not just comprehensible to a non-attorney, but really engaging as well.


Politics and History That I Didn’t Know Before


Some political history makes international headlines, but there’s a lot that I didn’t know about before I started reading crime fiction. And sometimes, politics can be really interesting. For instance, in Kel Robertson’s Smoke and Mirrors, readers learn about Australia’s 1972-1975 Gough Whitlam government. In that novel, Australian Federal Police (AFP) officer Bradman ‘Brad’ Chen and his team investigate the murders of former Whitlam government official Alec Dennet and the editor of his memoirs Loraine Starck. Then it comes out that the manuscript they were working on has disappeared. Now it looks as though someone was afraid that Dennet might reveal some uncomfortable things about high-ranking people in the Whitlam government. The truth is both more complicated and simpler than that, but it leads to some interesting background on that government.

I also learned a lot about Australia’s women’s movement in Wendy James’ Out of the Silence. That’s a fictionalised account of the 1900 trial of Maggie Heffernan for the murder of her infant son. As the novel makes clear, it’s much more complicated than a mother who simply ‘snapped.’ As James gives readers the background on Maggie’s life and the circumstances that may have led to the death of her son, we also learn that her cause was taken up by leading members of the Australian movement for women’s suffrage. One character in the novel for instance is Vida Goldstein, the first woman to run for Parliament in the British Commonwealth. I didn’t know that. The novel also gives some really interesting background on the women’s movement that had a powerful effect on the Heffernan trial. I also didn’t know before reading this novel (and afterwards, doing a bit of looking on my own) that South Australia was the first state to grant women’s suffrage (in 1895). Australian women were given the vote at the federal level in 1902, nearly twenty years before it happened in the U.S.  The things crime fiction teaches you!

Those are just a few of the many things that I’ve learned about that I never knew before reading crime fiction. What about you? I’m not talking here of things like recipes or names of places, as interesting as those can be. Rather, I mean things going on, perhaps even in your lifetime, that you never knew. If you’re a writer, has something you learned inspired you to write a story about it?



*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Bill Staines’ River.


Filed under Anthony Bidulka, Craig Johnson, Gail Bowen, Kel Robertson, Martin Clark, Nelson Brunanski, Perri O'Shaughnessy, Wendy James

Having Been Some Days in Preparation*

PreparationIf you’re in the midst of final preparations for holiday parties or guests, then you know how important those preparations can be. Do you have enough food and drink? Are all the towels clean if you have guests? Has everyone on your gift list been crossed off? It can get hectic, but those last-minute preparations can make a great deal of difference. They matter a lot in crime fiction too. Now, before I go any further, let me say that this post will not mention novels where we follow a serial killer preparing for the next murder. Too easy and frankly, I’m a bit ‘over’ serial killers. But there are a lot of other crime fiction novels where preparations are highlighted. Here are just a few.

In Agatha Christie’s Dead Man’s Folly, detective story author Ariadne Oliver has been commissioned to create a Murder Hunt, along the lines of a scavenger hunt, for an upcoming fête. The big event is to be held at Nasse House, the home of Sir George and Lady Hattie Stubbs. Soon enough Mrs. Oliver begins to suspect that something more is going on here than a fête, and she asks Hercule Poirot to travel to Nasse House and investigate. His presence will be explained easily enough since he’ll be giving away the prizes for the Murder Hunt. When Poirot arrives, he’s witness to all of the last-minute preparations, including discussions about where the various booths will be, who will do what, and whether the leaflets describing the Murder Hunt are ready. On the day of the fête, everything is finally ready. The event is shattered though by the murder of Marlene Tucker, the young girl who’s serving as the ‘victim’ in the Murder Hunt. Poirot and Inspector Bland both work to find out who would have wanted to kill Marlene and why. In this novel we get a solid ‘inside look’ at all that goes into planning an event like a fête.

There are a lot of theatre-based novels in which we learn about what it takes to put on a play. I’ll just mention two. In Edmund Crispin’s The Case of the Gilded Fly, Oxford’s repertory theatre is getting ready for a production of Robert Warner’s new play Metromania. A group of people including Warner, the cast and repertory producer Sheila McGaw gear up for rehearsals and production. One night, one of the actresses Yseute Haskell is shot. The first explanation is that this is a suicide. The victim was alone, and no-one else had been seen going to or coming from her room. Chief Constable Sir Richard Freeman happens to be visiting his friend Oxford don Gervase Fen when the shot is fired, so he gets involved immediately in the case, as does Fen and journalist Nigel Blake. Although the main plot of this novel is the murder and its investigation, there’s also an interesting thread as we go ‘backstage’ (yes, pun intended 😉 ) to see what it’s like to get ready for a theatre production.

Of course it’s not just the cast that has to get ready for a play. So does the house. We learn about this in Deborah Nicholson’s House Report. Kate Carpenter is House Manager for the Foothills Stage Network (FSN), which is housed in the Calgary Arts Complex (the Plex). One evening during a run of Much Ado About Nothing, the body of Peter Reynolds is discovered in one of the men’s washrooms. Detective Ken Lincoln begins to investigate the case, and his first suspect is the victim’s ex-wife Gladys, who serves as one of FSN’s ushers. She claims to be innocent, and asks Carpenter to help clear her name since she doesn’t think she’ll get fair treatment from the police. Carpenter’s reluctant at first, as she and Gladys are not exactly friends. But Gladys is an employee. What’s more one of the other suspects is Carpenter’s lover Norman ‘Cam’ Caminksi, who’s a building engineer and whose hammer was used for the murder. As Carpenter investigates, we get to see all of the preparations that the building staff members of a theatre have to go through for every evening of a performance. Among many other things, there’s the matter of concessions, there’s the matter of making sure the theatre is clean and everyone’s ready, and there’s the matter of ensuring that all of the tickets are ready to be picked up. That includes keeping a list of complimentary ticketholders. It’s not any easy job to manage all of this…

We see a very different kind of preparation in Frederick Forsyth’s The Day of the Jackal. A far-right French terrorist group called Organisation de l’Armée Secrète (OAS) has determined to assassinate French President Charles de Gaulle. Because of an earlier attempt, OAS’ members are already known to the police, so none of the members of the group can take on this task. Instead, they hire an ‘outsider,’ an Englishman known only as ‘the Jackal.’ The arrangements are made, and Jackal begins preparations. Meanwhile, the French government finds out about the plot, but no-one knows who the Jackal is nor what this person looks like. So Detective Claude Lebel has very little to go on as he matches wits with the Jackal. The novel gives readers solid details about how an assassination is planned and what preparations are necessary. In my opinion (so feel free to differ with me if you do), Fred Zinnemann’s 1973 filmed version of the novel conveys the preparations even more effectively.

Any skilled attorney will tell you that preparing for a trial is at least as important as the actual trial itself. Certainly surprises happen during a trial; but the better prepared one is, but better one’s chances. We see that in many, many legal novels. For instance in Perri O’Shaughnessy’s Breach of Promise, Tahoe attorney Nina Reilly gets a chance at a major case when Lindy Markov hires her. Lindy lived with her common-law husband Mike for twenty years. She helped build the Markov’s successful business, and in every other way was Mike’s partner. Then, Mike fell in love with his financial services vice-president Rachel Pembroke. Now, Lindy’s been served eviction papers ordering her to leave the home she’s shared with Mike for their entire relationship. What’s more, she’s been removed from her position as executive vice-president of the business she and Mike built together. Faced with the possibility that she’ll be left with nothing, Lindy wants to sue Mike for her share of the business’ assets. This won’t be an easy case. Lindy and Mike were never legally married, so there’s a very sound legal argument that Lindy has no right to anything. Still, Reilly takes the case. The preparations for the trial take months, and readers follow along as the jury is selected, experts are gathered, and a consulting attorney and jury consultant join the team. The trial begins, and we see how all of those preparations lead up to it. Then, a shocking event changes everything…

No less complicated is the preparation for a major news story. We see this in Paddy Richardson’s Cross Fingers. Wellington television journalist Rebecca Thorne has been working on an exposé of dubious developer Denny Graham. In order to be responsible about the story she does, Thorne needs to talk to Graham’s victims, gather background facts about his company and also get information from people on his team. And she soon hears some tragic stories of people who were ‘sold’ by richly catered evenings, glossy ‘photos and videos of luxurious properties, and ‘testimonials.’ Many of the victims lost everything they’d saved, and Thorne is happy with the progress of her story, as this will be a major ‘scoop.’ Then, her boss asks her to put the Graham story aside temporarily and do a story on the 30th anniversary of the Springboks’ rugby tour of New Zealand. ‘The Tour,’ as it’s often called, was highly controversial because of South Africa’s then-in-place policy of Apartheid, and there were many protests and stories of police abuse. At first Thorne isn’t happy about this. To her way of thinking, the story’s been done and there isn’t really a fresh angle. Then, she happens to learn of an unsolved murder that took place at the time and she begins to investigate that. Again, we see how a journalist prepares for a story as Thorne talks to people who protested, to members of the police, and to other people. She also gets background information and in other ways marshals her facts for the story.

Sometimes, it’s all in the preparation, whether it’s a holiday, a news story, a legal case or something else…



*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from the Beatles’ Being For the Benefit of Mr. Kite! 


Filed under Agatha Christie, Deborah Nicholson, Edmund Crispin, Frederick Forsyth, Paddy Richardson, Perri O'Shaughnessy