Category Archives: Peter Temple

Clinging to Your Stocks and Bonds*

investmentThe ‘Roaring 20s’ came to a screeching halt in late October, 1929 with the crash of major stock markets. That crash was one of the main factors that led to the Great Depression of the 1930s, and, at least in the U.S., to fundamental changes in banking and stock market laws.

Of course, there’s a risk any time you speculate with your money. The company you think will do well may go under. Or, a company you decided not to invest in takes off and does well. Or, the person you thought you could trust turns out to be untrustworthy. Still, people do dream of making money from the market, and some people do well. So, it’s not surprising that so many invest.

And we certainly see investments and tension about them in crime fiction. That makes sense, too, when you consider what’s at stake. Someone who invests money (especially if it’s a considerable sum) expects a return. If things don’t go well, the consequences can be serious…

There’s a mention of investing in Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Adventure of the Dancing Men. One day, completely unexpectedly, Holmes says:
 

‘‘So, Watson,’ said he, suddenly, ‘you do not propose to invest in South African securities?”
 

That’s exactly what’s happened, but Watson doesn’t have any idea how Holmes knew – until he hears the explanation. It seems that Watson’s friend, Thurston, wanted him to invest in some South African property, but Watson decided not to do that. It’s hard not to wonder what would have happened if he had invested.

In Stuart Palmer’s The Penguin Pool Murder, we are introduced to New York homicide detective Oscar Piper. One day, he’s called to the New York Aquarium to investigate the murder of stockbroker Gerald Lester. Oddly enough, his body was discovered in the penguin pool by a group of schoolchildren who were there on a field trip. That’s how Piper meets their teacher, Hildegarde Withers. She takes an interest in the case, and she and Piper soon discover that more than one person could have had a motive for murder. This story takes place not long after the Great Crash, and many of Lester’s clients lost all their money. And then there’s Lester’s personal life to consider. He wasn’t exactly a faithful husband, and his wife wasn’t above reproach, either. It’s quite a complicated puzzle; in the end, though, Piper and Miss Withers find out the truth.

Several of Agatha Christie’s stories mention investing and its consequences. For instance, in the short story, The Lost Mine, Hercule Poirot and Captain Hastings are having a conversation about money. Hastings suggests that Poirot might want to invest some of his money in the Porcupine Oil Fields, which seems to have a promising prospectus. Poirot refuses, reminding Hastings of how important safe investment is. Then he goes on to say that the only risky investment he has is shares in Burma Mines, Ltd. And that’s only because those shares were a ‘thank you’ for solving a complicated case. It turns out that one of that company’s principals disappeared, and Poirot was able to find out exactly what happened to the man, and who was behind it all. So far, Poirot’s shares seem to have done well. I know, I know, fans of Dead Man’s Mirror and of Taken at the Flood.

At the beginning of Donna Leon’s About Face, Count Orazio Falier is thinking of investing his money in a business owned by Maurizio Cataldo. Before he does, he wants to be sure his investment will be safe, so he decides to have Cataldo ‘vetted.’ And there’s no-one better for that than Falier’s son-in-law, Commissario Guido Brunetti. Brunetti is accustomed to doing things in this informal way, and agrees to find out what he can about the man. With help from his boss’ assistant, Signorina Elettra Zorzi, Brunetti gets some information. But then, he’s pulled away to investigate another case – the murder of a trucking company owner who might have been involved in illegal dumping. In the end, Brunetti discovers that there’s a link between the two cases. Among other things, this novel shows how people sometimes go outside ‘official channels’ and don’t exactly use a prospectus to get background on companies they’re considering for investment.

And then there’s Peter Temple’s Black Tide, the second in his series featuring sometime-lawyer Jack Irish. In this novel, Irish gets a visit from Des Connors, an old friend of his father’s. He wants Irish’s help with two things. For one thing, he wants a will done that excludes his son, Gary. For another, he wants Irish to find Gary and get back sixty thousand dollars that Des says he’s owed. It seems that Gary had gotten his father to lend him the money for investing in shares of a ‘sure thing’ that was ‘going through the roof.’ Then, Gary disappeared, and so did Des’ money. Irish agrees to see what he can do. The will isn’t difficult, but finding Gary proves to be much more dangerous than Irish would have thought. And in the end, he learns that this disappearance is only the tip of the proverbial iceberg when it comes to corruption and fraud.

And that’s the thing about buying shares of stock, or otherwise investing in a company. You never really know what’s going to happen. Even safe investments vouched for by people you trust may not work out as planned. These are just a few examples. I know you’ll think of lots more.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Elton John’s Someone Saved My Life Tonight.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle, Donna Leon, Peter Temple, Stuart Palmer

Everybody Take Responsibility*

taking-responsibilityEver had the feeling that most companies and their representatives are only too happy to hide behind ‘company policy’ instead of providing good customer service? Yeah, me, too. And it can get disheartening.

But I’m here to say that it’s not always that way. Some people do take personal responsibility for what their companies do and what their customers need. Case in point: something that happened to me. Recently I had a situation with the auto insurance carrier I’ve had for decades. Without boring you with details, I’ll just say that there was a lapse in customer service – one that really disappointed me. But the story doesn’t end there. A few hours after dealing with the issue, I got a call from the representative who’d been working with me. She took personal responsibility for the choice her employer made, and took it upon herself to make things right. And she did. Among other things, it shows that there are people who do their jobs conscientiously and with integrity. It also made me an even more loyal customer. Thanks to that employee who had a sense of personal responsibility. Thanks, Liberty Mutual, for supporting that kind of integrity.

The whole situation got me to thinking about how integrity and conscientiousness can be woven through a genre such as crime fiction, in which we read about the horrible things people can do to each other. It’s got to be done deftly, or the result can be too ‘frothy.’ But it can be done.

Aaron Elkins’ Loot, for instance, introduces readers to Boston art expert Benjamin ‘Ben’ Revere. He gets a call one day from his friend, pawn shop owner Simeon Pawlovsky. It seems that Pawlovsky’s just gotten a painting he thinks might be very valuable, and he wants Revere to give him a sense of its worth. Revere agrees and goes to the shop. Much to his shock, the painting appears to be a priceless Velázquez. Revere is concerned about such a valuable item left in a pawn shop, and asks to take the art with him while he does some further investigation. This Pawlovsky refuses to do, and, in the end, Revere doesn’t fight him on the subject. He leaves for a few hours of research. When he gets back, he finds that Pawlovsky’s been murdered. Revere feels a real sense of responsibility that he didn’t work harder to keep his friend safe, so he decides to at least find out who killed him. The trail leads all the way back to World War II, when the painting was originally ‘borrowed for safekeeping’ by the Nazis.

In Giles Blunt’s 40 Words For Sorrow, Algonquin Bay (Ontario) Detective John Cardinal learns that a body has been discovered in an abandoned mine shaft on Windigo Island. It’s soon established that it’s the body of thirteen-year-old Katie Pine, who went missing five months earlier. Cardinal was assigned to that original case, and was never able to solve it. He takes personal responsibility for that, and goes himself to visit her mother and tell her the news – something that must be extremely difficult. He also takes responsibility for this new angle on the case, and follows the leads he gets. In the end, he’s able to discover who the killer is.

Peter Temple’s Bad Debts is the first in his series featuring sometimes-lawyer Jack Irish. He’s just coming back to life, so to speak, after the murder of his wife, and has been spending quite a bit of time at the bottom of a bottle. Unfortunately, that’s the state he was in when Danny McKillop was arrested for a drink driving incident that ended in the death of a Melbourne-area activist named Anne Jeppeson. Now McKillop’s out of prison, and wants to meet with Irish. But by the time Irish gets to it, McKillop’s been shot. Irish already feels responsible for McKillop’s imprisonment; he did a horrible job of representing him and he knows it. So he does what he can now to at least make things right for McKillop’s family. He digs into the case more, and finds that McKillop was framed for Jeppeson’s death, and that this ‘accident’ was quite deliberate.

In one plot thread of Vicki Delany’s In the Shadow of the Glacier, Trafalgar (British Columbia) Constable Moonlight ‘Molly’ Smith discovers that her best friend, Christa Thompson, is being stalked by Charlie Bassing. Smith advises her friend to swear out a complaint and get a restraining order, but that doesn’t go very well. What’s more, Smith’s dealing with a murder case at the moment, and it’s occupying her time. So she doesn’t really follow up. Then, the stalking turns very ugly. Smith feels responsible for what’s happened, and believes that the system (and she!) should have done a better job of protecting Thompson. So she takes it on herself to try to make things right. It’s extremely awkward and difficult, because the whole thing has ruptured the friendship. But Smith isn’t satisfied to just ‘put it in the files.’

Martin Edwards’ DCI Hannah Scarlett has a similar feeling in The Hanging Tree. One day she gets a call from Orla Payne, who wants her to investigate the twenty-year-old disappearance of Orla’s brother, Callum. Unfortunately, Orla’s drunk when she calls, and not particularly coherent, so Scarlett puts the matter aside. Then one day, she learns that Orla has committed suicide (or was it?). She feels a real sense of responsibility, especially since she’d brushed the victim off. Now Scarlett takes it on herself to dig into the mystery of Callum Payne’s disappearance, and find out what happened to him, and how that might be linked with his sister’s death.

And then there’s Annie Hauxwell’s In Her Blood, in which we meet London investigator Catherine Berlin. She’s been gathering background information on an illegal moneylending racket run by Archie Doyle. As a part of that, she’s been working with an informant who goes by the name of Juliet Bravo. One day, ‘Juliet’ is found dead in Limehouse Basin. Berlin knows that the victim’s safety was her responsibility, and she’s determined to try to make things right by at least finding out who killed her contact. That conscientiousness puts her at odds with her employer, and in very grave danger.

We all have stories, I’m sure, of people who didn’t have that sense of personal responsibility and integrity. I know I do. Once in a while, it’s nice to remember that there are people who act conscientiously – even in crime fiction…

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from The Nylons’ Human Family.

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Filed under Aaron Elkins, Annie Hauxwell, Giles Blunt, Martin Edwards, Peter Temple, Vicki Delany

So If You’re a Redhead, a Blonde or Brunette*

Physical AppearanceOne of the many benefits of reading is that it allows us to use our imaginations. In fact, I think most readers probably don’t want every detail provided to them. Not only does that get tedious, but it can also be insulting. So authors tend to leave some things to the reader’s imagination.

But what about physical descriptions? Should the author give a lot of detail about what a main character looks like? Do readers want to know whether a character is short or tall, heavy or slender, dark-haired or blond/e? Many people would say they want to know at least a bit about a main character’s physical appearance. But of course, there’s the risk of giving so much detail that it becomes burdensome.

Some authors have provided quite a bit of information about character appearance, and that has its advantages. It’s easy for the reader to conjure up the image the author intended. And the author can make a character distinctive (e.g. Dennis Lyndes’/Michael Collins’ one-armed PI Dan Fortune). And that sets a character apart from others.

For instance, Arthur Conan Doyle was quite specific about Sherlock Holmes’ physical appearance. Fans know that Holmes is,
 

‘…rather over six feet, and so excessively lean that he seemed to be considerably taller. His eyes were sharp and piercing, save during those intervals of torpor to which I have alluded; and his thin, hawk-like nose gave his whole expression an air of alertness and decision. His chin, too, had the prominence and squareness which mark the man of determination.’
 

This description and a few other details that come up in the stories has made Holmes as iconic a physical presence as anything else.

The same may be said of Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot. As Captain Hastings describes him,
 

‘He was hardly more than five feet, four inches, but carried himself with great dignity. His head was exactly the shape of an egg and he always perched it a little on one side. His moustache was very stiff and military. The neatness of his attire was almost incredible.’
 

Poirot’s luxurious moustache and his sense of the sartorial have also provided readers with a very clear visual image of what he looks like. So, casting directors have had a very specific ‘look’ they’ve wanted for those who’ve portrayed Poirot on the screen (with all due respect, David Suchet is Poirot. Just sayin’). Christie’s Miss Marple isn’t described in quite as much detail, but Christie makes it clear what she looks like.

There’s also Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe. Fans will tell you that he’s well-known for his bulk, his large head, and his yellow silk pyjamas. Of course, Wolfe has linguistic idiosyncrasies, too, that make him distinct. But even if you consider just his physical attributes, it’s easy for readers to develop a solid mental image of what he looks like and how he moves. I know, I know, fans of Gladys Mitchell’s Mrs. Bradley.

On the other hand, though, there are plenty of fictional sleuths whose appearance isn’t described, or is only briefly alluded to, with few details. One of the most famous is Sarah Caudwell’s Hilary Tamar. Tamar is a former Oxford don, who now serves as a sort of mentor to a group of young London lawyers. Granted, this series is only four books long. But within that span, we are never even told Tamar’s sex, let alone other physical details. It’s left completely up to the reader’s imagination what this character really looks like.

There’s also little given about Peter Temple’s Jack Irish. We can get a very rough approximation of his age (not in his first youth, but at the same time, not in late middle age, either). We also know that he’s a ‘regular guy,’ so he’s not a formal dresser. But we’re not given detailed information about what he looks like.

We aren’t told an awful lot about what Michael Dibdin’ Aurelio Zen looks like, either. We know that he’s Italian, and that he’s based in Rome. And we can make a few probably logical guesses as to his general appearance. But we don’t really get a lot of information about it. So it’s left up to the imagination.

And some readers like it that way. They prefer to make up their own minds as to whether a character is tall or short, has long or short hair, is heavy or not, and so on. Other readers want more detail than that. In fact, on an interesting note, when I was planning this post, I found there were many more instances of characters who are described, at least somewhat, than of those who are not. That makes sense, when you consider how much we rely on physical appearance to help us identify people. In fiction, physical appearance can also be an important element of character development.

Where do you stand on this? Do you like to have a lot of detail about what a character looks like? Do you prefer no detail at all? Perhaps you’re the sort of reader who’s happy with vague description (e.g. tall and middle-aged, with a slight beer gut). If you’re a writer, how much detail do you provide?

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman’s (It’s) Hairspray.

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Filed under Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle, Dennis Lynds, Gladys Mitchell, Michael Collins, Michael Dibdin, Peter Temple, Rex Stout, Sarah Caudwell

When You’re Down and Out, When You’re On the Street*

ShelterWhere do you go if you have to escape a domestic abuser in the middle of the night, with nothing but car, keys and kids (if you even have a car)? What if you’ve run out of money and have no place to live? What if you’re a teen who’s been thrown out of your home, or who’s had to escape an abuse situation? Your first thought might be to go to the home of a friend or relative. But if that’s not an option, what other choice have you got?

For many people, the answer is a shelter. There are different kinds of shelters, of course. Some are municipal, some are run by charities, and others by individuals. And they vary greatly in safety and quality. But they’re all integral parts of a system where people sometimes fall through the proverbial cracks. And they can, quite literally, mean the difference between life and death for those who live there.

It’s easy to see, too, why such places are woven through crime fiction. Consider the disparate people who live and work in shelters. And there’s the myriad stories of the residents. That, too, can create conflict, tension, and all sorts of plot points. So it’s little wonder we see shelters in the genre.

For example, Denise Mina’s Exile is the second in her trilogy featuring Maureen ‘Mauri’ O’Donnell. In this novel, she has a job in a Glasgow women’s shelter called Place of Safety. While she’s there, she meets one of the residents, Ann Harris. When Ann goes missing, Mauri begins to get concerned. On the one hand, the residents aren’t required to report on where they go and what they do. Still, as this is a women’s shelter, there’s always the concern that someone might return to an abusive situation. When Ann’s body turns up in the Thames two weeks later, all signs point to her husband, Jimmy, as the killer. But his cousin Louise, who runs the shelter, doesn’t think he’s the murderer. So she and Mauri start to ask questions to find out what really happened to Ann Harris.

Peter Temple’s Bad Debts sees Melbourne PI and sometimes-lawyer Jack Irish trying to find out who killed a former client, Danny McKillop. The trail seems to lead to a man named Ronnie Bishop, who very likely knows more than he’s said about the murder and the past circumstances that led to it. But Irish soon discovers that Bishop has gone missing. As he tries to trace the man, Irish learns that he once worked for the Safe Hands Foundation, a charity group that supports homeless children. And it turns out that Bishop recently telephoned Father Gorman, who runs the foundation. So Irish visits the place and talks to Father Gorman. The visit doesn’t solve McKillop’s murder, but it does give Irish important background information.

The real action in Robert Barnard’s No Place of Safety begins when teenagers Katy Bourne and Alan Coughlan go missing on the same day. Leeds PC Charlie Pearce looks into the case and soon learns that the two young people attended the same school, but had nothing else in common. They didn’t even really know each other. Still, he suspects their disappearances may be related. Sure enough, he finds them both at a hostel for runaways. Usually called The Centre, it’s run by an enigmatic man named Ben Marchant. For various reasons, Pearce thinks at first that the best choice for both young people is to stay at the hostel for the time being. But little by little, questions arise about the place. For one thing, very little is known about its owner. For another, the relations between Marchant (and the hostel’s residents) and the people who live nearby are not good. Tensions are high, and could lead in any number of directions. Then a young girl, Mehjabean ‘Midge’ Haldalwa, shows up at the refuge, claiming that she’s running away from an arranged marriage. As things at the hostel get more and more dangerous, Pearce is going to have to contend with more than just two runaway teens.

In Gail Bowen’s The Wandering Soul Murderers, academician and political scientist Joanne Kilbourn gets an early-morning call from her daughter, Mieka, who’s just discovered the body of seventeen-year-old Bernice Morin in a trash bin near her catering shop. At first, the police think Bernice is the latest in a series of murders they’re calling the Little Flower murders. But this murder turns out to be different. Then there’s another death. The trail in this case leads to the Lily Pad, a Regina drop-in refuge for homeless teens. On the surface, it seems to be a safe place for young people, with hot meals, showers, counseling, and mentoring. But as Kilbourn learns, there’s more going on there than it seems. And some people are carrying secrets from their pasts.

Sara Paretsky’s Tunnel Vision features Arcadia House, a women’s shelter where Chicago PI V.I. Warshawski volunteers, and also sits on the board. One of the plot threads in this novel concerns one of the other board members, Dierdre Messenger. Since the shelter’s focus is survivors of domestic abuse and their children, there are several people – some in very high places – who don’t want it known that anyone in their family is there. And that plays its role when Messenger is murdered and her body left in Warshawski’s office…

And then there’s Sarah Hilary’s Someone Else’s Skin. DI Marnie Rome is assigned to try to interview Ayana Mirza, whose brothers attacked her with acid. The police are hoping that if she’s willing to testify, her brothers can be prosecuted successfully. At the moment, Ayana is living in a women’s shelter in Finchley, so Rome and DS Noah Jake go to the shelter to try to convince Ayana to speak out. When they get there, though, they find a shocking surprise. Hope Proctor, another resident, has stabbed her husband Leo. On the one hand, all of the witnesses and all of the evidence suggest that Hope was defending herself. On the other hand, there’s a big question of how Leo Proctor got into the shelter in the first place. The more Rome and Jake learn about the shelter and the people there, the more past history and secrets people are keeping play their roles.

Shelters of all kinds are vital resources in many communities. They can literally save lives, and are usually staffed by tireless, deeply committed people. They’re also really interesting contexts for novels, including crime novels.

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Simon and Garfunkel’s Bridge Over Troubled Water.   

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Filed under Denise Mina, Gail Bowen, Peter Temple, Robert Barnard, Sara Paretsky, Sarah Hilary

Hear the Salvation Army Band*

Non-ProfitsGovernments can’t do it all. Even if people were willing to be taxed enough to offset the costs of every undertaking, there are a lot of needs that governments can’t meet. So non-profit agencies and NGOs have very important places in many societies. Governments know this, and in some cases, they offer tax breaks, financial support, or other ‘goodies’ to non-profit agencies.

That support is almost never enough, though, to do the job. So these agencies also depend on generous donations and volunteerism. Sometimes they hang by a proverbial thread. But they persevere and many of them do really fine work. They’re woven through the fabric of a lot of societies, and we see them a lot in crime fiction.

For instance, in Deborah Crombie’s In A Dark House, a fire at a Southwark warehouse brings out the local fire brigade. As they’re going through the place, they find the body of an unknown woman in the ruins. It’s possible that she may have lived nearby, so the police and fire officials start locally with their questions. One of the places they visit is Helping Hands, a shelter for victims of domestic abuse and their children. They’re especially interested in the place because one of its residents reported the fire.  Funded primarily by the local council, it doesn’t have a large budget. But Kath Warren, the director, is proud of what her agency accomplishes. And the fact that one of residents may be the unknown woman is upsetting. There are other possibilities, though – three, as it turns out. So Met Superintendent Duncan Kincaid and his partner Gemma James have to work through several records of missing women and find out what happened to them before they can determine who the dead woman is and how she came to be in the warehouse.

In Peter Temple’s Bad Debts, sometime-lawyer Jack Irish gets a message from a former client, Danny McKillop. McKillop wants to see Irish as soon as possible, but Irish doesn’t take it seriously at first. He finds out too late that he should have, when he learns shortly afterwards that McKillop’s been murdered. Irish feels enough guilt about his former client, anyway. He did an unprofessional job defending McKillop in a drink driving hit-and-run case, and the case ended up with jail time. Now Irish comes to believe that McKillop’s murder may be related to the other case, the killing of local activist Anne Jeppeson. So he starts to ask questions. He soon learns that it’s very likely that McKillop was framed for the murder, and later killed to prevent any of it coming out. As Irish tries to track down possible witnesses, he finds that most people don’t want to say much to him. But he does pick up the trail, which leads to the Safe Hands Foundation, an agency dedicated to helping the homeless. The agency isn’t the reason for the murders, but his visit there gives him important information.

Sylvie Granotier’s The Paris Lawyer introduces us to Catherine Monsigny. She is a newly-minted attorney who’s trying to get some experience and make her name. As the story begins, she works for Rights For All, an agency that helps undocumented workers. Her role there is to help defend them in court hearings. Then, she gets a chance to really start her career. Myriam Villetreix has been arrested for killing her wealthy husband Gaston, and wants Monsigny, whom she met through the agency, to defend her. The case itself is high-profile, and could get Monsigny a lot of attention. So she works hard to prepare herself. As she does so, though, she finds herself haunted by a tragedy that occurred when she was a toddler, and drawn back to the place where it happened. She begins to ask questions about that, and about the case she’s preparing, and finds out that both cases are much more complex than she’d thought.

In Aditya Sudarshan’s A Nice Quiet Holiday, Judge Harish Shinde and his law clerk Anant travel from Delhi to Bhairavgarh, in the Indian state of Rajasthan. They’re hoping to enjoy a peaceful holiday at the home of Shinde’s old friend, Sikhar Pant. Pant has invited other houseguests, too, among them Ronit and Kamini Mittal. The Mittals run a rather controversial NGO which is dedicated to sexual and reproductive health education. In fact, they’ve recently gotten into trouble with a pamphlet they circulated about AIDS prevention. Some people in the rural areas they serve believe that the material is obscene. Others see it as personally offensive. The debate spills over into mealtime conversations at the Pant home. Pant’s cousin, Kailish, supports what the Mittals are doing, while other guests, especially Avinash Anand, are very much against it. When Kailish Pant is found stabbed one afternoon, Inspector Patel is assigned to the case and begins asking questions. His first theory is that someone who hated the victim’s stand on the Mittals and their NGO took that anger too far. But there are other possibilities, and the Judge and Anant begin to explore them. In the end, and after another murder, they find out who killed the victim and why.

There’s an interesting discussion of what NGOs do in Angela Savage’s The Half Child. Jim Delbeck has traveled to Bangkok to find out what happened to his daughter Maryanne. She was volunteering at the New Life Children’s Centre when she fell (or jumped, or was pushed) from the roof of the building where she lived. The police report is that she committed suicide, but Delbeck is sure his daughter did not kill herself. So he hires Bangkok-based PI Jayne Keeney to find out what really happened. She travels to Pattaya, where the death occurred, to investigate. Maryanne was in Pattaya with a group called Young Christian Volunteers, an Australian-based NGO. Since Maryanne had to go through the interview process with that group, and they have background information about her, Keeney makes the NGO one of her stops as she looks for answers. The information she gets doesn’t tell her how and why the victim died. But it does give her an important perspective.   

You may not think much about it unless you work for this kind of agency, or you’ve benefited from one. But NGOs and similar agencies fill important gaps in society. Wanna do some good yourself? Find an ethical non-profit agency or NGO whose goals and work you support, and help out. Donate, volunteer, spread the word. Give a little back.

 

 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Simon and Garfunkel’s A Hazy Shade of Winter.

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Filed under Aditya Sudarshan, Angela Savage, Deborah Crombie, Peter Temple, Sylvie Granotier