Will You Give All You Can Give*

risking-to-helpWe’ve all read and heard stories of those who risked everything, including their lives, to right a wrong and/or to help others. While some of them are well-known, others are not so well-known. For instance, do you know who Miep Gies was? She was a secretary for the Dutch offices of the German firm, Opekta. She was also one of those who helped to hide Otto Frank (who worked for Opekta), his wife, Edith, and their daughters, Margot and Anne, among others, from the Nazis. Miep and her husband Jan (who was a member of the Dutch Resistance) took grave risks to help the Frank family and the others who hid with them. What makes this story especially remarkable is that neither Gies was what you call a ‘superhero.’ They were ordinary people who did extraordinary things.

They aren’t the only examples of such courage, of course. We’ve seen them in real life, and we see them in crime fiction, too. It’s a bit tricky to create such a character, because it’s so important that the character be believable. But when they’re well-drawn, characters who risk everything to help others, or to do good, can add much to a story. They can be interesting in and of themselves, and the risks they take can add tension to a plot.

In Agatha Christie’s short story, The Theft of the Royal Ruby (AKA The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding), Hercule Poirot is persuaded against his better judgement, to spend Christmas at Kings Lacey, the home of Colonel Horace Lacey, his wife, Em, their grandchildren and great-niece, and some other house guests. Poirot is ostensibly there to experience an old-fashioned English Christmas. But the real reason for his visit is to recover a valuable ruby that was stolen from an Eastern prince. On Christmas Eve, Poirot finds a note on his pillow, warning him not to eat any of the Christmas pudding. He’s puzzled, but doesn’t ignore the note. The pudding becomes important in the recovery of the jewel, and Poirot discovers that the author of the note is the family maid, Annie. It’s not spoiling the story to say that she didn’t steal the ruby. But she does take quite a risk, especially considering her position, in warning Poirot of what she sees as real danger to him.

Rebecca Cantrell’s Hannah Vogel series takes place mostly in Berlin, just before and during the Nazi era. As the series begins (with A Trace of Smoke), Vogel is a crime reporter for the Berliner Tageblatt. The Nazis are rising to power, and it’s getting more and more dangerous to oppose them. This makes it challenging enough for Vogel (and for many other Germans). But she’s got another challenge. She and her brother Ernst lent their identity papers to two Jewish friends who needed them to escape Berlin. Those friends have promised to return the papers, but the Vogels took a real risk. When Vogel discovers that her brother has been murdered, she has to be extremely cautious in finding out why and by whom. If she’s caught without papers, her doom is sealed. As the series goes on, she takes other risks, too. Fans of the novels will know that, more than once, she goes up against the Nazis as she finds out the truth of what they’ve been doing.

Ernesto Mallo’s Needle in a Haystack introduces Buenos Aires police detective Venancio ‘Perro’ Lescano. He lives and works in the late 1970s, a very dangerous time for most people in Buenos Aires. With the military government firmly in control, any whisper of dissent is brutally put down, and anyone who is considered to have ‘the wrong’ sympathies simply disappears. Against that backdrop, Lescano is called one morning to a riverbank where three bodies have been dumped. Two of them look like regular ‘army hits,’ and Lescano knows better than to question them if he can possibly avoid it. The third, though, is a little different. It turns out that this is the body of a moneylender named Elías Biterman, and Lescano doesn’t think he was killed in the usual way. So, very quietly, he begins an investigation. The trail leads to the very highest levels, and Lescano himself takes risks as he looks into the matter. He’s not the only one. When a court office boy named Marcelo discovers some very incriminating documents, he risks his life to get them to Lescano, and they play an important role in the case. Lescano is also helped by the medical examiner, Dr. Fusili, who risks his life to get to the real cause of Biterman’s death.

Malla Nunn’s DS Emmanuel Cooper has to take real risks, as well. This series takes place in the early 1950s, not long after South Africa’s apartheid laws were enacted. In the first novel, A Beautiful Place to Die, Cooper (who is white) is sent from Johannesburg to the small town of Jacob’s Rest to investigate the murder of Willem Pretorius. During the course of this investigation, we see the way the apartheid laws impact every aspect of life. Breaking any of them causes trouble; opposing them can be a fatal decision. Cooper, though, is determined to find out who killed the victim and why. In the course of doing so, he finds himself up against some very dangerous odds. And anyone who helps him faces risks, too. As the series goes on, we see that Cooper risks his life more than once to do the right thing.

So do several characters in David Whish-Wilson’s Line of Sight. This novel, which takes place in late-1970s Perth, features Superintendent Frank Swann. Swann left Perth several years earlier, but returns when he learns that a friend, Ruby Devine, has been murdered. He’s taking a risk looking into the case, as he’s already a ‘marked man.’  That’s because he convened a Royal Commission investigation into the activities of a group of corrupt police known as the ‘purple circle.’ They’ve got plenty of power, and aren’t afraid to use it, as brutally as necessary. Going against them can amount to a death sentence, so not many people are willing to help Swann. But a few brave people are. And in the end, we learn what happened to Ruby.

It takes a great deal of courage to risk everything in order to help others, or to right a wrong. But those who do make all the difference in the world. And they can serve as interesting characters in a crime novel.

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Michel Schönberg and Herbert Kretzmer’s Do You Hear the People Sing?

28 Comments

Filed under Agatha Christie, Rebecca Cantrell, Ernesto Mallo, David Whish-Wilson, Malla Nunn

Just a Little Smile is All it Takes*

nonverbalsWhen most people think of communication, they think of language. But there are plenty of ways in which we communicate non-verbally. Winks, smiles, and of course, that famous one/two-fingered wave, are all examples of the way people send messages without using words. And research shows that we tend to be quite attuned to those non-verbals. In fact, we pay more attention to them than we do to the words people use, or the signs they use, in signed languages.

The police and other investigators know the value of paying attention to non-verbals. That’s how they often get clues as to whether a person is lying. It’s also how they pick up on whether someone is afraid, would like to say more but doesn’t want to, and so on. It’s no wonder, then, that we see those all-important non-verbals in crime fiction.

For instance, in Agatha Christie’s The Mysterious Affair at Styles, John Cavendish invites his old friend, Captain Arthur Hastings, for a visit to his (Cavendish’s) home, Styles Court, in the village of Styles St. Mary. Hastings accepts, happy to renew his acquaintance with Cavendish, his brother Lawrence, and their stepmother, Emily Inglethrop. All is not well with that family, though. Neither Cavendish brother can tolerate Emily’s new husband, Alfred. There are other tensions, too. Still, all goes smoothly enough until the night that Emily is poisoned. There are several suspects with different sorts of motives, but neither Cavendish wants the investigation to be made public. So, when Hastings learns that another old friend, Hercule Poirot, is living in the area, it seems like a very good solution to have him look into the crime. Poirot agrees; Emily Inglethorp was his benefactor, so he feels a sense of obligation. Hastings, of course, tells Poirot everything that he knows about the night of the victim’s death. And one thing he mentions is the ‘ghastly expression’ one the face of one of the characters. Without knowing it, that character has revealed something, and it’s interesting to see how Poirot uses that one non-verbal communication to put one of the pieces of the puzzle in place.

Very often, facial expressions and other non-verbals are important forms of communication when people don’t speak the same language. That can be risky, though, because different cultures have different ways of using non-verbals. For example, in Kate Grenville’s The Secret River, we are introduced to the Thornhill family. In 1806, bargeman William Thornhill is convicted of taking a load of wood. From his perspective, he needed to sell the wood in order to feed his family. There is a certain amount of sympathy for him, so instead of being executed, he is sentenced to transportation to New South Wales. He, his wife, Sal, and their children make the long voyage and start life again in Australia. But it’s not going to be easy. There’ve been people in Australia for many thousands of years, so one major challenge is going to be interacting with them. The Thornhills, and many of the other immigrants, speak English. The Aboriginal people have their own languages. So, verbal communication is limited at best. In fact, Thornhill sees their words as,
 

‘between them like a wall.’
 

When Thornhill does encounter Aborigines, there is an attempt to communicate non-verbally. Pointing, pictures drawn in dust, and holding things out with a hand are some of the ways both sides try to communicate. And in some ways, they’re successful. But that doesn’t prevent tragedy. There’s already been bloodshed as the two groups have clashed. Thornhill himself has no desire for butchery, unlike some of the other settlers. But, he’s expected to support his own. Besides, he’s found a piece of land he truly loves, that’s perfect for him and his family. He soon learns that he’ll have to get his hands bloody, too, if he’s going to keep that land.  

As I mentioned, most non-verbals are culturally contextual. One of those is the wai, which is a Thai greeting. Like the Japanese bow, the wai is nuanced, and, among other things, reflects the relative social status of the people involved in the interaction. It’s got several meanings, too, besides greeting. It’s used in thanks, in apology, in farewells, and in other situations, too. It is a very useful gesture, and communicates quite a lot without a lot of fanfare. To see the wai in action, may I recommend Angela Savage’s Jayne Keeney, PI, novels. Keeney is an Australian ex-pat who’s now based in Bangkok. She’s been there long enough that she’s fluent in Thai, and that includes the non-verbals that are used in that culture. In more than one situation, Keeney finds that that simple-but-nuanced gesture is very helpful in easing tensions and in getting her out of difficult situations. John Burdett’s Sonchai Jitpleecheep novels, and Timothy Hallinan’s ‘Poke’ Rafferty novels also include this simple gesture that can mean so much. A note is in order, too, about the ‘Thai smile,’ which is also woven into these authors’ books. There are dozens of situations in which a smile is used in the Thai culture, and the context often determines what the person who is smiling is communicating. The smile can mean many different things, including, ‘Hello,’ ‘Thank you,’ ‘I’m sorry,’ ‘No harm done,’ and ‘I’m embarrassed.’

As this is posted, pitchers and catchers are reporting to their training camps to get ready for this year’s Major League Baseball season. It won’t be long now, baseball fans! So, as we’re thinking about non-verbals, and what they mean, it’s also worth mentioning Alison Gordon’s series featuring sports writer Katherine ‘Kate’ Henry, who works for the Toronto Planet. She follows baseball most especially, and Gordon’s novels often feature scenes from games, where pitchers, catchers, coaches and batters often communicate without using any words at all. Henry is thoroughly familiar with what those non-verbals mean, as was her creator, and it’s interesting to see how that knowledge comes through in Henry’s writing and in the stories.

Whether we’re aware of it or not, we do communicate a great deal through facial expressions, eye contact (or lack of it) and other non-verbal means. When detectives pay attention to those messages, they can learn a lot. And it’s always interesting to see how people use non-verbals, especially when they can’t, or don’t choose to, use spoken language.

 

ps. The ‘photo is of Raymond Teller, one half of the famous illusionist duo, Penn and Teller. If you’ve seen these guys in action, you’ll know that Teller doesn’t speak during the show. Instead, he uses non-verbals to get his meaning across, and he’s quite good at it, too. If you’re reading this, Mr. Teller, Happy Birthday!

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Billy Joel’s Everybody Loves You Now.

22 Comments

Filed under Agatha Christie, Angela Savage, Kate Grenville, John Burdett, Timothy Hallinan, Alison Gordon

In The Spotlight: Robin Blake’s The Hidden Man

>In The Spotlight: Rex Stout's Fer de LanceHello, All,

Welcome to another edition of In The Spotlight. Well-written historical series don’t just give information about a particular time and place (although they do that). They tell a story, too, that just happens to take place during a particular era. In this way, the reader learns about a period of time without it seeming like reading a textbook. To show you what I mean, let’s take a look at Robin Blake’s The Hidden Man, the third in his series featuring Coroner Titus Cragg and Dr. Luke Fidelis.

It’s 1742, in the English town of Preston. One morning, attorney and town Coroner Titus Cragg gets a note from Phillip Pimbo, who’s a local pawnbroker and would-be banker. Pimbo indicates a legal matter, and asks Cragg to come to his establishment as soon as possible. By the time Cragg gets there, though, it’s too late. Pimbo’s been shot. On the surface of it, it looks like a suicide. But when Cragg asks his friend, Dr. Luke Fidelis, to look into the matter, Fidelis isn’t so sure that Pimbo killed himself. There is a great deal of pressure to let the matter rest as a suicide, mostly because of the upcoming festival, the Preston Guild. The festival always brings in a lot of money, and the town’s leaders don’t want anything to spoil that. Still, Cragg has enough respect for his friend to start asking a few questions.

One possibility is that someone in Pimbo’s household was behind the murder. But there are other leads, too. For instance, Pimbo had recently backed a ship called The Fortunate Isle. A few weeks before Pimbo’s death, his business partner, Zadok Moon, launched a claim against the company that insured the ship, saying that the ship and all its cargo were lost. But when Cragg tries to track Moon down to talk to him, he finds that the man has disappeared. And then there are Pimbo’s various other business transactions, that might have made him enemies. What about his assistant, who has good reasons to want to take over the business? And why is the town’s mayor so eager to have the death declared a suicide and be done with the matter?

It turns out that Pimbo had a few secrets, and so do some of the other characters in the novel. As Cragg burrows deeper into the case, there’s another murder. And it’s clearly linked to the first. Now, Cragg and Fidelis have a pair of cases, and have to work quickly to find out the truth. In the end, they learn that the deaths are connected to the insurance case, to the African slave trade, and to connections among some of the characters.

The story takes place in 1742, and Blake depicts that era. For one thing, we learn a bit about the way banking and insurance worked in the days before large, commercial firms took over those businesses. Pimbo, for instance, wants to set himself up as a banker. As the story begins, he’s a goldsmith and pawnbroker, but wants to ‘branch out.’ Insurance, too, worked differently to the way it does today. There’s also some discussion of the important topics of the time, including the morality of slavery (for those wondering, both Cragg and Fidelis oppose it strongly).

Lifestyles and customs of the times are also depicted. As one example, Cragg learns that Fidelis’ mother lives with him. She has what would probably now be called dementia, and is cared for by Pimbo’s housekeeper, Ruth Peel. The housekeeper has no medical background of any kind, and no experience; she simply does the best that she can. It’s a look at the way the elderly were cared for in a time before care homes, modern medical knowledge, and so on.

It’s worth noting, though, that the language used is more contemporary. Readers who prefer more modern language, even in a novel that takes place so long ago, will appreciate this.

Cragg is the town Coroner, and as such, presides over inquests. So, parts of the novel take place in the local courtroom. Readers who are interested in the way court proceedings were conducted in the mid-Eighteenth Century will appreciate those scenes. Fidelis, being a doctor, makes use of the medical knowledge there was at that time; that, too, will of interest to readers who want to know about the role of the doctor in that era.

The story is written from two perspectives, both past tense. One, told in the first person, is Titus Cragg’s. So, we learn about Cragg’s home life. He is happily married to Elizabeth, an intelligent, well-read companion who turns out to be quite helpful in this case. The other, told in third person, is Luke Fidelis’. Readers who prefer just one point of view, and just one voice, will notice this. The two protagonists do compare notes, meet at the local inn or coffeehouse, and otherwise investigate together. But they also have separate lines of enquiry, and the reader follows both.

The mystery itself is ugly, as is the motive for the killings. But the story, while not light, is not particularly grim or gritty. There’s a sense at the end that life will go on, and that things will be all right.

The Hidden Man is a story of life in an English town in the mid-1700s. It features a complex mystery, and two sleuths who make use of their different, but complementary, skills to solve it. But what’s your view? Have you read The Hidden Man? If you have, what elements do you see in it?

 
 
 

Coming Up On In The Spotlight

 

Monday, 20 February/Tuesday, 21 February – China Lake – Meg Gardiner

Monday, 27 February/Tuesday, 28 February – River of Darkness – Rennie Airth

Monday, 6 March/Tuesday, 7 March – In the Cold Light of Mourning – Elizabeth J. Duncan.

18 Comments

Filed under Robin Blake, The Hidden Man

Nobody Was Really Sure if He Was From the House of Lords*

legislatorsWatch (or read) any news reports, and you’ll be reminded of something interesting about democratic governments. They are often led by presidents, prime ministers, or their counterparts. But in reality, a lot of political power rests with legislators. They may be members of Parliament, members of Congress, or of some other legislative body. Whatever their position, these people often have quite a lot of power.

It’s interesting to see how they’re treated in crime fiction, too. Legislators are natural fits for crime fiction, if you think about it. There’s power, money, status – and vulnerability. Just a quick look at the genre should show you what I mean.

In Agatha Christie’s Appointment With Death, we are introduced to Lady Westholme, MP. She and her friend, Miss Pierce, join an excursion to the famous Middle East city of Petra. With them on the trip are several other people, including newly-minted doctor Sarah King, and the members of the Boynton family, who are also touring the Middle East. From the moment that we meet her, Lady Westholme is assertive (some might even say aggressive) and quite clear in her views. There’s an interesting scene, for instance, where she has an argument with a representative from the travel company about the size and amenities of the car that’s to take the group to Petra. Needless to say, Lady Westholme wins the day. On the second afternoon of the trip, Mrs. Boynton (matriarch of the Boynton family) suddenly dies of what looks like heart failure. That’s not surprising, considering her age and health. But Colonel Carbury, who’s the investigator in the area, isn’t entirely convinced. He asks Hercule Poirot, who’s also in the Middle East, to look into the matter, and Poirot agrees. It turns out there are several suspects, too, as Mrs. Boynton was tyrannical, manipulative, and cruel to the members of her family. In the end, though, Poirot gets to the truth about the murder.

Ngaio Marsh’s The Nursing Home Murder is the story of Sir Derek O’Callaghan, MP. He’s written a controversial Anarchy Bill that specifically targets leftist revolutionaries and their activities. There’s no guarantee that the bill will be accepted, but it does have support. Sir Derek believes firmly that it will help keep the country safer. Others claim it squelches free speech. Whatever the bill’s fate, it seems clear that it’s going to spark fierce discussion. One day, Sir Derek is giving a speech when he suddenly collapses from a ruptured appendix. He’s rushed to a nearby nursing home run by his longtime friend, Sir John Phillips. There, he undergoes an emergency operation, which he survives. Later, though, he dies of what turns out to be hyoscine poisoning. Sir Roderick Alleyn and his assistant, Inspector Fox, investigate. And one important avenue they explore is the bill that Sir Derek had written. It’s not the only possibility, though, and the two end up with several suspects. I see you, fans of Died in the Wool.

P.D. James’ A Taste For Death introduces us to Crown Minister Paul Berowne. As a close advisor to the Prime Minister, he’s got plenty of power and ‘clout.’ One day, he’s found dead in a church not far from his home. Also found there is the body of a local tramp, Harry Mack. Commander Adam Dalgliesh, DCI John Massingham, and DI Kate Miskin investigate the deaths. They do, of course, look into Berowne’s political life. People in a position of power often make enemies. They also look into his personal life, and there are plenty of suspects there, too. It turns out to be a complex case that challenges the team.

As you’ll know, Margaret Truman was the daughter of US President Harry S. Truman. She was also a crime writer who wrote the well-regarded Capital Crimes series. More than one of those novels involves crime, corruption and murder in the US Congress. For instance, in Murder at the Kennedy Center, US Senator Ken Ewald is making a bid for the presidency. He has a very good chance at being elected, too, as he’s politically astute. He has an egalitarian agenda, but he also knows how to play the ‘power game.’ One night, at a glittering fund-raiser, Ewald staffer Andrea Feldman is shot. Georgetown University Law School professor Mackensie ‘Mac’ Smith discovers the body – or, rather, his dog does – during a late-night walk. Soon enough, he’s drawn into the case, because he knows the Ewalds. Ewald himself is a suspect, since his gun was used in the murder. But so is his son, who was having an affair with the victim. Those aren’t the only possibilities, though. For as many friends as Ewald has, he has enemies, too, and some of them would be only too happy to see his campaign in ruins. It’s an interesting look at the ins and outs of legislative politics. So, by the way, is Truman’s Murder in the House.

In Robin Cook’s medical thriller, Seizure, we meet US Senator Ashley Butler. He’s a conservative, who’s staunchly opposed to stem-cell research and other, similar, medical advances. He’s also a strong proponent of ‘traditional family values.’ He’s used his constituents’ concerns about the economy, social change, and other issues to cement his role as one of the most powerful senators in Congress. His next goal is the US presidency. But even as it is, he has an awful lot of ‘clout.’ The, he is diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. If the truth about this comes out, Butler knows he’ll never be elected, and may not even keep his Senate seat. So, he reaches out to Dr. Daniel Lowell, who’s been doing exactly the sort of research Butler has publicly opposed. He offers Lowell a deal: if Lowell will perform the controversial procedure he’s been studying on Butler, then Butler will withdraw his opposition to this sort of research. And that isn’t trivial. Millions of dollars ride on whether the government will or will not support medical and other scientific research. Lowell agrees, unable to resist the opportunity to try his new procedure. The two make their plans, and surgery is scheduled. It doesn’t work out the way either plans, though, and the result involves real danger.

And then there’s Gail Bowen’s Deadly Appearances, the first of her Joanne Kilbourn novels. As the series begins, Kilbourn is a political scientists and academician. She’s been working on the campaign of Androu ‘Andy’ Boychuk, who’s just been selected to lead Saskatchewan’s Official Opposition party. He’s got a very promising future as a provincial political leader, but it all ends one afternoon at a barbecue, where he’s scheduled to give an important speech. He’s just about to start, when he suddenly collapses and dies. Kilbourn is devastated at the loss of her friend, so, partly as a way to deal with the grief, she decides to write a biography of Boychuk. As she does, she gets closer and closer to the truth about his death. In fact, she could very well be the next victim…

Just because someone has a lot of power, as legislators often do, doesn’t mean one’s safe from harm. And it’s interesting to see how that combination of power and vulnerability is treated in crime fiction. Which examples have stayed with you?

 
 
 

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from the Beatles’ A Day in the Life.

28 Comments

Filed under Agatha Christie, Gail Bowen, Margaret Truman, Ngaio Marsh, P.D. James, Robin Cook

I’m Free*

nmandelaAs this is posted, it’s 27 years since Nelson Mandela was released from prison. People around the world watched as he walked out of the prison and into a new life that led to the top of South Africa’s leadership.

It’s all got me to thinking about what it’s like for people who’ve been imprisoned, and are set free. That’s a common plot point in crime fiction, of course, and it’s interesting to see how it’s handled. Of course, a lot of fictional characters haven’t been wrongly imprisoned in the same way that Mandela was. But that plot point can add an interesting layer to a story.

Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables isn’t usually thought of as a crime novel. Still, there’s a crime in it, and Jean Valjean is imprisoned for twenty years because of it. The novel, of course, tells, among other things, the story of what happens after he leaves prison, and his reaction to being freed:
 

‘…when Jean Valjean heard in his ear the unfamiliar words, ‘You are free,’ the moment seemed improbable and extraordinary, and a ray of bright light, of the true light of the living, penetrated to him…’
 

His joy is short-lived, as you’ll no doubt know. But it’s no less there at first.
 

There’s the same sort of wonderment when Elinor Carlisle is freed in Agatha Christie’s Sad Cypress. She’s been imprisoned for the poisoning murder of Mary Gerrard, lodgekeeper’s daughter at Elinor’s family home, Hunterby. There’s good reason to suspect Elinor, too. For one thing, her fiancé, Roderick ‘Roddy’ Welman has become infatuated with Mary, to the point where their engagement has been broken off. For another, Elinor’s wealthy Aunt Laura has very much taken to Mary, and there’s a good chance that she might bequeath all of her fortune to her, and not Elinor or Roddy. Still, local GP Peter Lord wants Elinor’s name cleared, mostly because he’s fallen in love with her. He asks Hercule Poirot to look into the matter, and Poirot agrees. At the end of the trial, Elinor is freed. Here is what Poirot says about it:
 

‘‘When one has walked in the valley of the shadow of death, and come out of it into the sunshine – then, mon cher, it is a new life that begins…’’
 

And, although Christie isn’t specific, she does hint at exactly that.

Ngaio Marsh’s Tied Up in Tinsel takes an interesting perspective on release from prison. In that novel, artist Agatha Troy is commissioned to do a portrait of Hilary Bill-Tasman. The plan is for her to spend the Christmas holidays at his home, Halbards, while she does the work. Troy soon learns that Halbards is a bit unusual. All of the people who work there are people who’ve served time for murder. Bill-Tasman believes that these are not, by nature, violent people who are a threat to society. His view is that they killed once, but aren’t likely to again. He also believes in the redemptive power of honest work and a chance to start life over. For the staff members, it’s an opportunity that very few others would have been willing to give them, so they are grateful. The house runs smoothly enough until Christmas Eve. On that night, a special event is planned, in which Bill-Tasman’s Uncle Fleaton ‘Uncle Flea’ Forrester is to dress up as a Druid and distribute gifts to the local children, who’ve been invited for a party. Uncle Flea takes ill, though, and his valet/servant Aflred Moult takes his place. Right after the gifts are distributed, though, he disappears, and is later found dead. Bill-Tasman’s staff members come under quite a lot of suspicion, especially given their prison records. But Troy isn’t so sure any of them is guilty. Her husband, Inspector Roderick Alleyn, is concerned, anyway, about his wife’s staying in a house where a murderer is likely staying. So, partly for that reason, he visits Halbards and investigates the crime. Together, he and Troy discover what really happened to Moult and why.

In one plot thread of Roger Smith’s Dust Devils, former journalist Robert Dell, his wife, Rosie, and their two children are taking a drive one afternoon near Cape Town. They’re ambushed, and their car goes over an embankment. Rose and the children die in the tragedy, but Dell survives (albeit with injuries). The police accuse Dell of murdering his family members (and it’s not spoiling the story to say that he is innocent). And it’s soon clear that nothing he says is going to make any difference. He’s imprisoned, framed for murder. Unbeknownst to Dell, his father, Bobby Goodbread, has learned of his situation, and finds a way to free him from jail. The two have been estranged for years, mostly due to their differing views on race, apartheid and politics. But Dell is extremely grateful to be free, and he and his father, each for a different reason, go in search of the person who really killed Dell’s family.

And then there’s Angela Savage’s short story The Teardrop Tattoos. A woman has recently been released from prison for murder. She’s given a place to live not far from a local child care facility, and settles in with her beloved companion, a bit bull named Sully. One day, the woman gets a letter from the local council. It seems that one of the parents associated with the child care facility has complained about Sully. Since he’s a restricted breed, his owner will have no choice but to get rid of him. Sully means everything to this woman, so she plots her own kind of revenge. As the story goes along, we learn why she was in prison, and what happened. It’s not as clear-cut a case as it seems in the beginning of the story. So, the reader is left to determine whether she was unjustly imprisoned.

It’s very interesting to see how crime writers approach that topic of people who’ve been released from jail. They have all sorts of reasons for being there, and all sorts of experiences after their release. And it can make for very interesting plot points and characters.

 

This ‘photo is iconic; it shows Nelson Mandela leaving Robben Island. Thanks, NPR.

 
 
 

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

20 Comments

Filed under Agatha Christie, Angela Savage, Ngaio Marsh, Roger Smith, Victor Hugo