Warning! Toxic! Do not ingest

Murders tend to have distinct signatures. The kind of murder that’s committed often (‘though of course, not always) gives a clue about how well-planned the murder was, how well the murderer knew the victim, and sometimes, something about the murderer’s characteristics and background. The signature that’s most often associated with a poisoning murder is that it’s preplanned, and by someone who knows the victim and has a personal reason for the murder. Poison is also often a clue that the murderer knows at least a little about poison and chemicals. So in a poison murder, it’s not easy for the killer to “hide behind” theories such as self-defense, an unpremeditated killing (which might result in lesser charges than first-degree murder), or a claim that the killing was impersonal (e.g. a burglar who’s surprised by the homeowner). Since poisoning murders are rather risky in that they can point quickly to the murderer, why is the poisoning death so popular in crime fiction? Is it realistic that someone, knowing the risks, would poison another person?

One reason for which poison’s such a popular kind of crime in mystery stories may be that, with comparatively little knowledge, it’s easy to disguise poison as accidental or natural death. That’s what happens in Agatha Christie’s Appointment With Death, in which Hercule Poirot investigates the murder of a tyrannical matriarch while she and her family are on a trip to the ruins of Petra. Mrs. Boynton has a weak heart, and is taking digitalis. When she suddenly dies, her death is at first put down to her weak heart, combined with the effects of the heat and the stress of travel. It’s really the investigating officer’s sense that “something isn’t right” that suggests anything else. That’s also what draws Poirot into the investigation. As a matter of fact, several of Christie’s novels deal with poisoning; during World War I, she worked in a dispensary, and the knowledge she gained from that experience is often reflected in her writing.

In Kaitlyn Dunnett’s Scone Cold Dead, the second of her Liss Maccrimmon mysteries, there’s an attempt to pass a death off as an accident. Macrimmon’s former Scottish dancing troupe is on a tour, and she’s invited the group to make a stop in her hometown, to which she’s retired after an injury. In honor of the group’s visit, Macrimmon arranges for a cocktail party with some traditional Scottish dishes. At the party, the troupe’s manager, Victor Owens, suddenly dies when he eats a scone with mushrooms, to which he’s fatally allergic. At first, it’s believed that his death is a tragic accident – he didn’t realize what he was eating until it was too late. However, it’s not long before the police – and Liss – realize this was murder.

Poison is also passed off as an accident in Elizabeth George’s Missing Joseph, in which Inspector Thomas Lynley and Sergeant Barbara Havers try to find out who killed Robin Sage, the vicar of small-town Winslough. Deborah St. James met the vicar when the two of them happened to be viewing the same painting at London’s National Gallery. Distraught about being childless, Deborah’s comforted by what the vicar says about the painting, and persuades her husband, Simon, to take a holiday in Winslough, so that she can see the vicar again and find some peace. When they arrive, they find out that the vicar is dead – apparently of accidental poisoning by hemlock. Simon doesn’t believe the death was accidental, and calls in his old friend, Inspector Lynley, to find out the truth behind Sage’s death. Lynley and Havers find that Winslough is full of deeply-hidden secrets, and that more than one person had a motive for killing the vicar.

Ruth Rendell’s To Fear a Painted Devil is based around a poison murder that’s passed off as a natural death. Patrick and Tasmin Selby are a young, wealthy, but unhappily married couple who live in exclusive Linchester. One evening, they host a birthday party for Tasmin. At the party, Patrick is stung by several wasps that have built a nest in the Selby roof. Although it seems that Patrick will be all right, he suddenly dies. At first, his death is attributed to the wasp stings. After all, everyone at the party witnessed the wasp attack. But Dr. Max Greenleaf, who’s attended the party – and Patrick – doesn’t think so. He becomes a very reluctant sleuth as he tries to figure out who killed Patrick Selby and why.

Even when poisoning can’t be disguised as a natural death or an accident, it can sometimes be disguised as suicide. That’s what the murderer attempts in Agatha Christie’s Hickory Dickory Dock (AKA Hickory Dickory Death), in which Hercule Poirot is called in to investigate some strange disappearances in a hostel for students. He visits the hostel and encourages the hostel’s matron to call in the police as soon as possible. When one of the residents confesses to being responsible for most of the disappearances, everyone thinks the matter is settled – until she’s found dead two days later. At first, her death is put down to suicide. She was upset about the thefts, and she’s left a suicide note. Soon, though, the alert matron realizes what’s wrong with the supposed suicide note, and Poirot realizes he’s investigating a murder.

Gentleman detective Charles Lenox comes to the same realization in Charles Finch’s debut novel, A Beautiful Blue Death. Lennox is a “well-born” man whose ambitions in life are travel and reading. However, as it turns out, he’s a very talented amateur detective who’s been called in more than once by Scotland Yard. When Lennox’s close friend, Lady Jane Grey, asks him to help her find out the truth behind her former housemaid’s death, Lennox can’t refuse her. Prudence Smith, who now serves in the home of George Barnard, has apparently committed suicide by poison. There’s an empty glass, apparently used, and a suicide note, apparently addressed to her fiancé who works in the same home. Lennox, though, notices right away that something’s amiss, and begins to believe that Prudence was murdered. His suspicions are confirmed when he finds out that several members of the household had reasons for wanting Prudence dead. Then another murder occurs, and Lennox is sure that he’s dealing with a killer.

Poisoning is also popular in crime fiction because the murderer can arrange the death to make it seem that anyone could have committed the crime. For example, in Agatha Christie’s Dumb Witness (AKA Poirot Loses a Client), Hercule Poirot investigates the death of Emily Arundell, a wealthy spinster with poor relations. Her death is originally put down to natural causes; however, it’s not long before Poirot realizes that she was poisoned. The manner of her poisoning, though, cleverly hides the real killer – at first. All of the suspects (and there are several, since Miss Arundell had a large fortune to leave) had an opportunity to administer the poison, and it’s difficult to prove – at least at first – which one of them actually committed the crime.

We also see this kind of poisoning in Dorothy Sayers’ Strong Poison, in which Lord Peter Wiimsey meets Harriet Vane. As the story begins, Harriet’s on trial for poisoning her former lover Philip Boyes. The case seems clear-cut, too; Boyes and Harriet had quarreled, and Harriet had arsenic (the poison used in the death) in her possession (ostensibly to do research for a mystery novel she was writing). To make matters worse, Boyes was known to have gone to Harriet’s home on the night of his death, where she served him a cup of coffee. Wimsey attends Harriet’s trial and promptly falls in love with her. When the jury can’t reach a verdict, Harriet is given a new trial, and Wimsey swears he will clear Harriet’s name. With the help of his friend, Miss Climpson, Wimsey finds out that the real killer has cleverly “hidden behind” Harriet.

Of course, murder mysteries that feature poison are often not as dramatic and “action-packed” as are mysteries that feature, say, shooting or a more graphic kind of murder. But they can be very compelling, and allow for lots of “red herrings” and supposedly-innocent suspects. What are your favorite poisonous mysteries?

FYI

Hello, All,
Welcome to this edition of FYI. I hope that you’ll find these links and other information interesting. As always, I’m not endorsing particular authors or books – just passing the word along.

Locked Room Mysteries

Several people were kind enough to let me know they’d enjoyed our discussion of “locked room” mysteries. If you’d like a thorough and well-organized resource for more “locked room” stories, you can visit author Hal Smith’s website here.

Hal’s got a new book of short stories, The Mysteries of Reverend Dean, all featuring “locked room,” almost-supernatural mysteries that you may find interesting.

There’s a very helpful link of several other books and short story collections featuring this motif.


Michael Palmer

Michael Palmer Emailed me inviting me to review his new book, The Last Surgeon. In exchange for a review, he’s offering blog owners who review his book a signed copy of the book to use as a giveaway. He’s also offering readers of blogs that review his book a free digitized copy of the prologue to the book.

Here’s his description of The Last Surgeon:

“…the terrifying tale of Army trauma surgeon Captain NickGarrity, working on a mobile medical van caring for vets and the homelessin D.C. while he tries to conquer the fallout from the suicide bomber whokilled everyone in Nick’s field hospital in Afghanistan except Nick andhis best friend, Umberto. When Umberto, whose PTSD is even more virulentthan Nick’s, disappears, Nick is brought into the crosshairs of brilliantpsychopath Franz Koller, the remorseless master of the non kill—murderthat does not look like murder."

As you folks know, Confessions of a Mystery Novelist isn’t really a book review site; however, I have great admiration and respect for those of you who do book reviews. If you keep a crime fiction book blog, are interested in taking Michael Palmer up on his offer, and you’d like to review The Last Surgeon, you can Email him at: michael.palmer@michaelpalmerbooks.com
If you’d like to learn more about Michael Palmer’s books, you can visit his website


Dan Brown - The Lost Symbol

I received an Email from Buckingham Books, letting me know that they have a limited number of signed copies of Dan Brown's newest novel, The Lost Symbol. Here's the description:

"BROWN, DAN. THE LOST SYMBOL. New York: Doubleday, 2009. First edition. Signed by the author. Fine in fine dust jacket. Washington DC: Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon is summoned at the last minute to deliver an evening lecture in the Capitol Building. Within moments of his arrival, a disturbing object - artfully encoded with five symbols - is discovered at the epicenter of the Rotunda. It is, he recognizes, an ancient invitation, meant to beckon its recipient into a long-lost world of hidden esoteric wisdom. When Langdon's revered mentor, Peter Solomon, philanthropist and prominent mason, is brutally kidnapped, Langdon realizes his only hope of saving his friend's life is to accept this mystical invitation and follow wherever it leads him. Langdon is instantly plunged into a world of Masonic secrets, hidden history, and never-before-seen places-all of which seem to be dragging him toward a single, unbelievable truth. $125.00 (28201)"

If you'd like a signed copy, here's the contact information:

Nancy Anderson
Buckingham Books, ABAA
8058 Stone Bridge Road
Greencastle, PA 17225
(717) 597-5657
Email: sales@buckinghambooks.com
Website: www.buckinghambooks.com



Introducing… John Locke

John Locke is the author of the Donovan Creed mystery series. Creed is a former CIA assassin with a contract-killer business who’s got close ties to organized crime, but at the same time, wants a “normal” life. John was interviewed this week by Holly Christine; here is the interview.

Here is John’s Website

About Lethal People:

“While pursuing a budding romance with the beautiful Kathleen Gray, Creed stumbles upon a plucky—but horribly burned—little girl named Addie Dawes. Creed's suspicion about the fire that killed Addie's family puts him on a collision course with crime boss Joe DeMeo, in what soon becomes an issue of kill or be killed. DeMeo, a relentless killer who will stop at nothing to protect his empire—targets Creed and his loved ones for death. But Creed has plans of his own. Employing a bizarre cast of characters including a giant, a rival crime lord, an angry midget bent on world conquest—and a team of circus clowns—Creed goes on the attack, with hilarious results.”

About Lethal Experiment:

“Donovan Creed, former CIA assassin, is a smart-aleck tough guy who can't resist a noble cause. Despite a ton of baggage and a penchant for call girls, he always finds a way to beat the bad guys. In this sequel to Lethal People, Creed is forced to choose between his thriving contract-killer business and his desire to live a normal life with the beautiful Kathleen Gray and her newly-adopted daughter, Addie. Before that can happen, he has to take care of some lethal business involving a former lover. Lethal Experiment is a breezy, fun page-turner, featuring grisly humor, outrageous characters and sexy dialogue”



An (admittedly off-topic) Idea or Two for Charity

First, a caveat that this particular note is off-topic as regards mystery and crime fiction. However, it’s for a good cause, so I thought I would pass it on.

My Strategic Books colleague, Cheryl Lee Howard, has written two children’s books, Duster Dustbunny (which teaches days of the week and months of the year) and Mikhael the Mighty (which teaches self-esteem and being true to oneself). She’s donating most of the proceeds from the sales of these books towards global warming research and wild fire prevention research, and she asked me to pass the word along that these books are available. If you’re book-shopping for small children and you’d like some of what you spend to go to those causes, you can check out her book sites at:

Duster Dustbunny
and
Mikhael the Mighty

Also, for the rest of the year, author Ingrid King is donating a portion of the direct-purchase proceeds of her book, Buckley's Story: Lessons from a Feline Master Teacher to Casey's House, an organization dedicated to finding homes and caring for elderly and hard-to-place cats in Northern Virgnia. Here's the description of Buckley's Story:

"Buckley’s Story is the story of how one small cat changed the author’s life in ways she never could have imagined. In this warm-hearted memoir, Ingrid King shares the story of Buckley, a joyful, enthusiastic and affectionate tortoiseshell cat she meets while managing a veterinary hospital. Buckley challenges Ingrid to overcome long-held emotional patterns and teaches both the author and the reader universal lessons about opening the heart, following intuition, and living a life filled with joy. When Ingrid leaves her job at the veterinary hospital to start her own business, Buckley comes home to live with her and Amber, another tortoiseshell cat who had adopted the author several years earlier."

If you're book-shopping for a pet-lover, and you'd like some of your money to go to Casey's House, please contact Ingrid directly at consciouscat@cox.net, so that she can arrange for it.

Whoops! When the Sleuth Slips Up...

The more that crime fiction reflects real life, the more that most mystery lovers enjoy it. We want to identify with the characters, and we want to believe that they could exist. In real life, people make mistakes and are wrong sometimes. It’s the same in well-written crime fiction. When the sleuth is sometimes wrong, and comes to the wrong conclusion, this makes the story that much more believable. It also makes the sleuth more human and therefore, more interesting and engaging. It can also add an interesting level of suspense as the sleuth realizes his or her mistake and at least tries to correct it before it’s too late.

Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot is not known for his humility about his deductive powers. Nonetheless, he’s sometimes led to the wrong conclusion – at least at first – and it makes him a more human character. Here are just a few examples. In The Mysterious Affair at Styles, in which Poirot makes his debut, his friend, Captain Hastings, is visiting an old friend, John Cavendish. While he’s there, Cavendish’s stepmother, Emily Inglethorp, is poisoned. Hastings unexpectedly runs into Hercule Poirot, and asks him to help investigate. Mrs. Inglethorp was a wealthy woman, so there are plenty of suspects, including her husband, her two stepsons, and her stepson’s wife. At first, all of the clues and all of the evidence lead Poirot towards a particular suspect. Then, Poirot realizes he’s made a mistake, and is soon on the track of the real killer. Two important plot twists later, Poirot reveals the killer in a dramatic dénouement.

In Lord Edgware Dies (AKA Thirteen at Dinner), Jane Wilkinson, wife of the 4th Baron Edgware, asks Poirot to help her find a way to get rid of her husband, who refuses to give her divorce. Poirot isn’t sure how he can help, but he agrees to see Lord Edgware. During his visit, Lord Edgware claims that he has no objection to a divorce. Completely surprised, Poirot agrees to take this news to his client, who is elated at the outcome of Poirot’s visit. All seems well, but Poirot is suspicious that there’s more going on here than a misunderstanding about a divorce. His suspicions are justified the next day, when Lord Edgware is murdered. There are plenty of suspects, including Edgware’s daughter, whom he’s tyrannized; his nephew and heir to the title, who’s desperate for money; his wife, who wants to marry someone else; and Carlotta Adams, an American actress who may have reasons of her own for wanting to kill Lord Edgware. Poirot investigates each of the suspects, and comes to a conclusion, but he’s not satisfied, and he knows he must be wrong about at least something. In the meantime, one of the suspects is arrested for the murder, and Poirot reluctantly thinks this might be the killer. A chance remark that Poirot overhears, however, puts him on the right track at last, and he realizes who the killer must be – just in time to save the other suspect.

The Chocolate Box, a short story that appears in Christie’s Poirot’s Early Cases is perhaps the most famous example of Poirot being wrong. In that story, which takes place while Poirot is still on the Belgian police force, Paul Deroulard, a French deputy and widower who’s living in Belgium, dies suddenly one evening after dinner. At first, his death is put down to heart failure, but his wife’s cousin is convinced the death was not natural. She asks Poirot’s help, and he investigates. He finds out that one suspect, Deroulard’s friend and neighbor M. de Saint Alard has a motive (he and Deroulard are on opposite sides of a very controversial political issue regarding the separation of church and state). He had no opportunity, though, to poison Deroulard. John Wilson, another friend of Deroulard, had the opportunity, and evidence is found that he had access to the posion. He, however, has no motive. Thus matters stand as Poirot continues to investigate the case and the other suspects. In the end, he names the wrong killer. It’s then that the real killer confesses to the crime, and Poirot realizes the mistakes that he’s made. Later, he asks Hastings to mention the case if ever he believes that Poirot has gotten too conceited. Needless to say, Poirot does not appreciate it when Hastings takes him at his word.

In several Ellery Queen novels, we also see examples of stories where the sleuth is wrong. In The Fourth Side of the Triangle, for example, Queen and his father, Inspector Richard Queen, investigate the strangling death of Sheila Grey, a famous clothing designer. The major suspects are her lover, wealthy Ashton McKell, his wife Lutetia, who’s found out about her husband’s affair, and their son, Dane, who himself has fallen in love with Sheila. One by one, each of the three suspects’ alibis are found to be unreliable. Moreover, another suspect arises when the Queens discover that Sheila had another lover. The evidence leads Queen towards one of the suspects, and that person is arrested. Then, at the end of the novel, Queen looks at one of the clues again, with proverbial fresh eyes, and realizes he’s made a mistake. The real killer is then named, and confesses to the crime.

A similar thing happens in Ten Days’ Wonder, in which Queen tries to help his friend, Howard Van Horn, get to the bottom of some troubling blackouts he’s had, during which he may have been involved in some horrible crimes. As a part of his investigation, Queen travels to Van Horn’s hometown of Wrightsville, a small New England town. He stays with the Van Horn family, and begins to get to know Van Horn’s father, wealthy Diedrich Van Horn, and Diedrich’s wife Sally, Howard’s stepmother. There’s also Howard’s Uncle Wolfert Van Horn, who’s also involved in the family business. One night, Sally is strangled during one of Howard’s blackouts. Queen investigates the crime, and finds out that there were several suspects, including all of the members of the household. Queen comes to exactly the wrong conclusion about the murder, and that person is arrested. It’s only after a year that Queen realizes how wrong he was, and confronts the real killer.

Colin Dexter’s Inspector Morse series also features cases where the sleuth is wrong. In fact, in several Morse novels, he draws the wrong conclusion - at first. For instance, in The Jewel That Was Ours, Morse and Lewis investigate the theft of a famous jewel, the Wolvercote Tongue, and the murder of Dr. Theodore Kemp, curator of the Ashmolean Museum, who was scheduled to accept the jewel from its donor on behalf of the museum (my review of the book is here). Morse and Lewis find that there were several people who wanted Kemp dead, and Morse’s reasoning leads him in exactly the wrong direction. In fact, it’s not until Lewis ‘phones Morse with conclusive evidence that Morse accepts that he’s got the wrong suspect. Later, Morse re-thinks the case and realizes who the real killer is, and confronts the killer in an almost Christie-like revelation.

In Martin Edwards’ The Cipher Garden, Oxford history don Daniel Kind and DCI Hannah Scarlett, each in a different way, become involved in investigating the murder of landscaper Warren Howe. Howe’s wife, Tina, was originally suspected of the murder, but she had an alibi, so the police couldn’t make an arrest. Scarlett gets her Cold Case Review Team involved when the police receive an anonymous note years later that accuses Tina of the crime. Howe was an abusive and unpleasant philanderer, so there is a list of suspects. Scarlett and Kind piece together the past, and each comes up, at least at first, with the wrong solution to the crime. It’s a realization of Kind’s that finally puts the sleuths on the right track, but not before other deaths occur.

In M.C. Beaton’s Death of a Bore, Lochdubh Constable Hamish Macbeth investigates the murder of John Heppel, a successful television screenwriter who’s offered writing classes to the local residents. Heppel belittles and humiliates all of the members of the class, and each one’s furious with him. So when he’s murdered one night after the second class, Macbeth’s got more than one suspect to investigate. The forensic evidence points towards one of the suspects, and Macbeth tries unsuccessfully to get that person to confess to the crime. Then, he realizes that there’s a very important piece of evidence that’s been overlooked. Calling himself an idiot, he rectifies the error just in time to catch the real killer before there’s another death.

As always, I’ve only been able to mention a few examples of cases where the sleuth is wrong. What’s your view? Do you think this sort of scenario adds unnecessary twists to a story, or do you enjoy it when the sleuth blunders?

Locked Rooms and Other Impossible Mysteries

Well-written crime fiction offers the reader more than just engaging characters and a suspenseful plot. High-quality mystery novels also offer the reader an intellectual challenge. Sometimes that challenge is figuring out who, among the many suspects, killed the victim. Many police procedurals present that kind of challenge. The police look for evidence that leads them to the murderer, and the reader’s challenge is to put the clues together before the police do. Another kind of challenge, though, is figuring out how a crime could have been committed. There are several variations on what’s sometimes called the “locked room” motif, and they provide both the sleuth and the reader with a fascinating kind of challenge. How, exactly, could the murder have been committed? Since all of the suspects (if there are any) are accounted for, how did one of them manage the crime?

Sometimes, the victim appears to have been alone, sometimes even literally, in a locked room, when the crime is committed. That’s what happens in Agatha Christie’s Dead Man’s Mirror, a short story that appears in her Murder in the Mews collection. Sir Gervase Chevenix-Gore, an eccentric and very family-proud patriarch, is afraid that someone in his family may be cheating him. He summons Hercule Poirot to his family home for the week-end to find out if his suspicions are correct. On the night Poirot arrives, Sir Gervase is found in his study, the apparent victim of suicide. The study is locked, and the key to the door is found in Sir Gervase’s pocket, so the murderer couldn’t have used the door. The French windows that give on the garden are also locked, so the murderer couldn’t have used the window, either. Chevenix-Gore’s family and friends agree, too, that while it’s highly unlikely, given Sir Gervase’s high opinion of himself, that he would have committed suicide, he was also slightly mad, so everyone believes that Sir Gervase has committed suicide. Two clues, though, lead Poirot to the conclusion that Sir Gervase was murdered.

Ellery Queen’s The King is Dead has a similar “locked room” motif. In that novel, Queen and his father, Inspector Richard Queen, are brought to Bendigo Island, the private property of munitions tycoon “King” Bendigo. Bendigo’s received threatening letters, and he wants the Queens to find out who’s been sending them. One night, Bendigo is shot while he and his wife, Karla, are alone in his hermetically-sealed private office. The room is locked, and a thorough search of both it and the two Bendigos yields no sign of the gun. Moreover, Karla claims that her husband didn’t shoot himself, and the evidence shows that he didn’t. There’s no gunpowder on Karla’s hands or clothes, so she couldn’t have fired the gun, either. Bendigo’s brother Judah had threatened his brother’s life, and actually fired a gun at the same moment that Bendigo was shot. However, Judah was with Queen in another room the entire evening, including the time of the murder, so Queen knows that he didn’t enter his brother’s office. As if that weren’t enough, Judah’s gun had no bullets in it. This intellectual puzzle is almost as interesting as the truth behind why Bendigo was threatened and shot.

Edward D. Hoch’s short story The Oblong Room is another classic example of a locked-room mystery. Again, this story features a victim found within a room that is literally locked up. In that story, Captain Leopold, a Connecticut police chief, is called to the local university campus, where the body of Ralph Rollings has been found with stab wounds. His roommate, Tom McBern, is found in the room, too, and has apparently been there with the body for two days. Captain Leopold tries to unravel the mystery behind McBern’s odd behavior, but at first, nobody’s talking, including a girl they both liked, and friends of both young men. When Leopold finally unravels this “locked-room” mystery, the motive for the murder, and the story behind it, provide the real surprise.

Shelly Reuben’s Spent Matches is another interesting example of a “locked room” or impossible mystery. This novel focuses on Zigfield’s Folly, a New York art gallery. Wegman Zigfield, the gallery’s owner, is upset when his son arranges for the gallery to display the work of Sarkin Zahedi, an artist for whom Zigfield has nothing but contempt. One night, five of Zahedi’s pieces go up in flames in the gallery, and arson investigator Wylie Nolan is called in to investigate the crime. What he finds is that the paintings were destroyed, but the frames were left more or less intact. Moreover, despite the fire, the smoke and fire sensors were never activated. To make matters more challenging, the state-of-the-art security system shows that no-one entered the gallery that night. This novel also features two other fire investigations, but this is the one that’s the most challenging for Wylie. He’s got several suspects, including Zigfield, Jiri Hozda, the Zigfield's associate director, and Jiri Hozda, the Zigfield's associate director, and museum assistant Camden Kimcannon. All three have reasons for objecting to Zahedi’s show.

Sometimes, the “locked room” scenario is more figurative than literal. In those cases, there’s a limited number of suspects and the circumstances of the murder make it hard to see how the murder could have been committed without someone seeing. That’s the case in several Agatha Christie novels. I’ll just mention three of them. In Death in the Clouds (AKA Death in the Air), Hercule Poirot is on a flight en route from Paris to London. During the flight, one of his fellow passengers, French moneylender Madame Giselle, is murdered by what turns out to be poisoned thorn. The only possible suspects are the other passengers in the cabin, and none of them was seen aiming a dart at Madame Giselle, nor even approaching her. The method that the killer used, and the way in which Poirot finds out how and by whom the murder was committed are both fascinating.

That’s also true in Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express, in which a wealthy American businessman is murdered while traveling to London on the famous Orient Express train. Because the cars are locked at night, and because the conductors are on twenty-four hour duty, the only suspects are the other people traveling in the same coach as the murdered man. What’s particularly complex about this puzzle is that each of the suspects has an alibi that’s corroborated by at least one other person, and many of the suspects are complete strangers to each other. So at first, it seems that some outsider must have gotten on board the train at one of its stops. However, since the murder occurs while the train is snowbound between stations, that doesn’t seem possible, either. This is one of Christie’s most challenging puzzles, and still one of her most popular works.

There’s a similar challenge in Christie’s And Then There Were None (AKA Ten Little Indians). That novel takes place on Indian Island, a bleak island off the Devon coast. Ten people have been lured to the island through different means. Shortly after they arrive, the guests realize that they’ve been brought to the island for another purpose. When, one by one, the guests are killed, it becomes clear that one of them is a murderer. Since they’re marooned on an island, there are very few places to hide, and it’s very unlikely that an outsider is doing the killing. Figuring out which one of the people on the island is the killer is one of Christie’s most challenging puzzles, and in fact, this story is said to have been Christie’s favorite of her novels.

My own B-Very Flat also takes up the question of how a murder could have been committed. In that novel, violin virtuosa Serena Brinkman dies suddenly of anaphylaxis on the night of a major music competition. Former police detective-turned-professor Joel Williams works with the local police to find out how and why Serena died. What they find is that there are only a few people who could have had the opportunity to poison Serena, and even fewer who could have removed the epinephrine she always carried.

There are, of course, many other "impossible" mysteries; I've only had space to mention a few. What’s your opinion of the “near impossible” or “locked room” scenario? Do you enjoy the intellectual challenge? Or do you find them too implausible?

The Alphabet in Crime Fiction - The Jewel That Was Ours by Colin Dexter

This week’s stop on the alphabet in crime fiction meme’s perilous journey is the letter “J.” Thanks to the leadership of Kerrie at Mysteries in Paradise, we’re all still safe – thus far ; ). My choice for this letter is Colin Dexter’s The Jewel That Was Ours. Published in 1991, it’s the ninth of his Inspector Morse series.

As The Jewel That Was Ours opens, we meet three hosts who are preparing to welcome a group of American tourists to Oxford. Sheila Williams is a liaison and event organizer for the university. Dr. Theodore Kemp is the philandering curator of the Ashmolean Museum who, as the novel begins, abruptly breaks off his relationship with Sheila, who’s been his mistress for a few months. John Ashendon is the tour’s leader. With everything in readiness, the busload of tourists arrives on schedule, and the visitors are settled into the elegant Randolph Hotel. Among the tourists are Eddie Stratton and his wife, Laura, Phil Aldrich, Janet Roscoe, Howard and Shirley Brown, and Sam and Vera Kronquist. The high point of the group’s tour of Oxford is to be Laura Stratton’s presentation of the Wolvercote Tongue, part of a jeweled Saxon belt buckle, to the Ashmolean. Late in the afternoon of the group’s arrival, Laura Stratton suddenly dies of a heart attack while she’s in her bathtub, and her handbag, in which she’s been keeping the Wolvercote Tongue, is stolen. Inspector Morse and Sergeant Lewis are called in to look into the theft.

At first, Morse and Lewis treat this investigation as a routine incident. Statements are taken from all of the tourists and their hosts, and the detectives begin to sift through what’s been said. Everything changes the next afternoon, though, when Theodore Kemp is found murdered. Morse suspects that Kemp’s murder is connected with the theft of the Wolvercote Tongue, so he and Lewis investigate the cases simultaneously. The more that Morse and Lewis find out about Kemp, the more they realize that there’s more behind the theft than they thought, and that more than one person had a good motive to murder Theodore Kemp. Kemp’s wife, Marion, has two motives; first, he’s been unfaithful to her multiple times. Also, Kemp was responsible for a car accident in which a young woman was killed, and Marion left with a permanent spine injury that confined her to a wheelchair. Kemp’s colleague, Cedric Downes, is also a major suspect; his wife, Lucy, has been having affair with Kemp. In fact, it’s to be with Lucy that Kemp broke off his relationship with Sheila Williams. For just that reason, Sheila herself is also a suspect. And then there are the members of the tour group, nearly all of whom are hiding secrets.

Morse and Lewis slowly unravel the tissue of lies, deceptions and faked alibis and finally find out the real truth about the Wolvercote Tongue and about the murder of Theo Kemp. It turns out that practically everyone involved in the murder knows more than she or he says, and nearly everyone is hiding something. We also find that Kemp’s death has its roots in a past incident that comes back to haunt him. What’s even more interesting is the connection between that past (and Kemp’s murder) and the theft of the jewel.

Like a jigsaw puzzle, the plot of The Jewel That Was Ours is intellectually fascinating and as such, it’s interesting to see how Morse and Lewis solve it. The relationship that’s finally discovered between Kemp’s murder and the jewel theft is creative and not too unbelievable, and the pacing of the story keeps the reader’s interest from the beginning. But there are several other elements of this story that are even more compelling.

One of them is the interesting and very human characters. The more we learn about the American tourists and their hosts, the more human and believable they become. Most of them are sympathetic characters, and we can really believe why they act as they do. At the end of the story, Dexter makes even the killer a sympathetic character; the motive for the killing is understandable and believable, and we almost wish the killer hadn’t been caught. It’s also interesting to see the inter-relationships among the characters, especially the American tourists.

Another very appealing aspect of The Jewel That Was Ours is Morse himself. He, too, proves to be very human, and that makes him all the more likable, despite his crustiness. For example, he soon finds himself very much attracted to Sheila Williams, and she to him. At first, he resists her very blatant invitation, but he feels a very human conflict between his feelings for her and his sense of duty to investigate her as a murder suspect. We can really see how a person might find himself in this situation, and we can also understand Morse’s very “normal” surge of jealousy when he sees Sheila openly flirting with another man. Morse’s investigation of the case also shows his humanity. He follows a line of reasoning that leads him effortlessly and smoothly – to the wrong conclusion. At first, he’s so convinced he’s identified the killer that he’s reluctant to listen to the suspect’s protestations of innocence. He doesn’t even want to hear what his “prize” suspect has to say about what happened on the day Theo Kemp died. We empathize with Morse’s consternation when Lewis phones him with conclusive evidence that Morse’s theory is wrong. We also can understand Morse’s sense of satisfaction and vindication when he figures out who really killed Kemp, and how it’s connected to the jewel theft.

Throughout the novel, Dexter shows in obvious and subtle ways how Morse and Lewis relate to each other, and their dependence on one another. While it’s Morse who makes the deductions that lead to the real solution of the case, it’s Lewis who gets some important evidence. Lewis and Morse work as a very effective team as they interview witnesses and suspects, track down leads, and manage the investigation. Through Lewis’ eyes, we see how brilliant and at the same time, how human Morse is, and we also see how much Morse relies on Lewis.

More for its characterization than for anything else, I recommend The Jewel That Was Ours, even for those who haven't read previous Inspector Morse novels. One doesn’t need to know Morse and Lewis’ history to appreciate the dynamics of their relationship, and one doesn’t need to have read other Morse novels to understand how Morse goes about investigating the case. For those who decide to read the novel, I’d suggest paying very careful attention as you read. Seemingly trivial conversations and insignificant facts turn out to be very important in this novel.

An interesting tidbit about The Jewel That Was Ours:

Quite often, novels are later adapted for television or movies (or both). However, in this case, it’s quite different. The Jewel That Was Ours was adapted from The Wolvercote Tongue, a Season 2 (1987) episode of the Inspector Morse series starring John Thaw as Morse and Kevin Whately as Lewis. The endings of the two stories, though, are quite different (sorry, no more details; I don’t want to spoil the fun for anyone).

Chemistry

Chemistry between people, or attraction, is a natural part of being human. We find ourselves attracted to others, sometimes in spite of our better judgment. The question isn’t really whether we find others attractive; it’s what we do about it. That chemistry between people is an integral part of real life; it’s also an interesting part of some very well-written crime fiction. What happens, for instance, when one’s attracted to someone who could very well be a murderer? Or when one’s committed a murder, but finds oneself attracted to the sleuth? That tension can add to a solid murder mystery plot.

Being involved in a murder investigation naturally throws people together, so it’s not surprising that those involved might be attracted to each other. The trouble is, though, that one of the suspects in a murder investigation is probably the killer. That’s the dilemma that Katherine Grey faces in Agatha Christie’s The Mystery of the Blue Train. In that story, Hercule Poirot investigates the murder of Ruth Van Aldin Kettering, a wealthy heiress who’s murdered while on her way from London to Nice. Ruth’s father, Rufus Van Aldin, hires Poirot to find Ruth’s killer. Katherine Grey is a fellow passenger on the train, and she’s drawn into the investigation when it’s found out that she was possibly the last person to speak to the dead woman. Among the suspects in the case is Derek Kettering, Ruth’s husband. He’s got a strong motive, too; he’s in desperate financial trouble and stands to inherit a fortune from his wife. Derek and Katherine find themselves drawn to each other, despite the fact that he’s accused of his wife’s murder.

A similar thing happens in Christie’s Death in the Clouds (AKA Death in the Air), which Poirot investigates the murder of Madame Giselle, a well-known moneylender, while she’s on her way from Paris to London. The only suspects in the case are the other passengers in the cabin. Among those passengers is Jane Grey, a London hairdresser’s assistant. In the course of the investigation, Jane strikes up a friendship with Norman Gale, a dentist, and Jean Dupont, an archeologist, who were on the same flight. As Poirot looks into the case, he gets more and more concerned for Jane, since he hasn’t eliminated anyone as a suspect, including the young men she’s seeing. This attraction adds an interesting level of tension to the story. In the end, Poirot himself takes a hand in ensuring that Jane’s relationships don’t put her in danger.

In Ellery Queen’s The Dragon’s Teeth, we see another example of potentially dangerous chemistry. Queen and his new partner, Beau Rummell, have opened a detective agency and are hired by wealthy and very eccentric Cadmus Cole. Cole won’t give them any details of the case, but both partners agree that they need Cole’s generous retainer. Before he can tell the detectives what he wants them to do, Cole dies at sea. So Queen and Rummell begin to look for the heirs to Cole’s considerable fortune. Queen’s sidelined with a case of appendicitis, so he sends Rummell to Los Angeles to find out of the heirs, Kerrie Shawn. It’s not long before Beau and Kerrie fall in love. Meanwhile, the other heir, Margo Cole, has also been located. She and Kerrie move into Cole’s mansion and are soon vying for his fortune. When Margo is shot, Kerrie becomes the prime suspect in her murder. Rummell is determined to have a future with Kerrie, despite the fact that she could be a murderer, and their attraction to each other adds an interesting layer of tension to the story.

It can add even more interest and tension to a story if the sleuth is attracted to one of the suspects. The sleuth’s judgment can be affected, and even it it’s not, it can put the sleuth in a very vulnerable position. For example, in Warren Adler’s Senator Love, Fiona FitzGerald, a Washington, D.C. homicide detective, investigates two deaths. One’s the wife of an Austrian diplomat. The other is the body of a young girl who went missing ten years earlier. Both are connected to Senator Sam Langford, a Florida senator whose many affairs have so far not kept him from gaining national attention. One of Langford’s employees asks Fiona to investigate the deaths quietly, so as not to attract media attention, and Fiona agrees. As she looks into the connection between these murders and “Senator Love,” as she calls him, Fiona finds herself increasingly drawn to the senator, even though he’s a major suspect in the deaths.

A similar thing happens in Susan B. Kelly’s Hope Against Hope, the first of her Nick Trevellyan series. Trevellyan isn’t impressed when successful businesswoman Alison Hope leaves London and sets up her software business in Little Hopford, He thinks of her as a London snob; she certainly doesn’t seem to be “one of us.” One night, Alison hosts a housewarming party to which her cousin Aidan, who’s turned up after a long absence, has been invited. Later that night, Aidan is bludgeoned to death at the bed and breakfast where he’s staying. Trevallyan is put on the case, and immediately, he suspects Alison. There’s good reason, too; with Aidan’s death, Alison inherits sole ownership of the family’s software company. It also turns out that Aidan’s been trying to extort money from his cousin. Against his better judgment, though, Trevallyan finds himself more and more attracted to Alison. Besides, there are other suspects in Aidan’s murder; he has an unsavory past, and more than one person was interested in settling a score with him. As Trevallyan works to uncover the truth about the murder, Alison begins to do her own investigating to clear her name. The chemistry between the two makes for an interesting level of suspense as the story unfolds.

Colin Dexter does a very effective job of integrating chemistry into the plots of his Inspector Morse/Sergeant Lewis series. Morse is a bachelor and quick to notice an attractive woman. When that woman seems to be mixed up in a murder he’s investigating, this adds interest and tension to the story. For example, in The Daughters of Cain, Morse investigates the murder of former Oxford don Felix McClure and later, that of his former scout, Ted Brooks. One person who seems to be connected to both cases is Ellie Smith, a prostitute who counted McClure among her clients. She’s got another kind of connection to Brooks, so Morse believes that she’s mixed up in both murders. Despite the fact that she’s a suspect, Morse is powerfully attracted to Ellie, and the feeling is mutual. He doesn’t let that fact get in the way of his investigation – at least, not too much – but it’s clear that there is strong chemistry between the two. In fact, towards the end of the novel, Ellie disappears, and Morse makes it his mission to find her again.

The same kind of chemistry is clear in Dexter’s The Jewel That Was Ours, in which Morse and Sergeant Lewis find the connections between a missing artifact, an American tourist’s sudden death and the murder of the lecturer attached to that tour. Laura and Ed Stratton are among an American touring group of several couples who are visiting historic English cities. The tour’s stop in Oxford is supposed to include Laura’s much-hyped donation of the Wolvercote Tongue – a famous jewel – to the Ashmolean Museum. On the day of the tour’s arrival at Oxford’s Randolph Hotel, Laura suddenly dies and her handbag, in which she’s put the jewel, is stolen. As Morse and Lewis begin to investigate what happened to Laura and what happened to the jewel, matters are complicated by the murder of Dr. Theo Kemp, the philandering lecturer attached to the tour. Morse’s personal life is also complicated by Sheila Williams, another lecturer on the tour. Sheila is one of Kemp’s former mistresses, so she becomes an important suspect in his murder. That fact doesn’t prevent Morse from becoming attracted to her, and Sheila is only too susceptible to Morse. The chemistry between them doesn’t stop Morse from investigating Sheila, and the reader can feel the tension as Morse is suspicious of her at the same time as he’s jealous when he finds her flirting with another man.

I’ve only mentioned a few novels where this natural human chemistry plays a role in the plot; there are many others. Do you think that chemistry adds to a murder mystery? Do you find it too distracting or unrealistic?

The Razor's Edge

In real life, many people associate killing – especially killing more than one person – with madness. After all, would a psychologically healthy person actually plan and carry out a murder? Or more than one murder? Can a person have that much disregard for human life without being at least a little crazy? Of course, there are horrible stories of mass murderers who are criminally insane. In crime fiction, too, there are plenty of stories where the killer is a psychopath. Those stories can be compelling if they’re well-written. That kind of killer, though, is comparatively rare. What’s far more interesting in real life and in crime fiction is that razor’s edge between mental health and a complete break with mental stability. Sometimes, living in that “gray area” can drive a person to murder. Sometimes, an otherwise “normal” person gets pushed over the borderline because of a murder. Either way, that kind of murderer can make us ask ourselves: what really “counts” as sanity? How far are we from that borderline?

In some crime fiction, the killer is/becomes a murderer precisely because he or she is too close to that borderline between mental stability and madness. For example, in Agatha Christie’s Three-Act Tragedy (AKA Murder in Three Acts), Stephen Babbington, a likeable clergyman, is poisoned at a cocktail party at which Hercule Poirot is also a guest. Porirot is asked by his host, Sir Charles Cartwright, to investigate the murder, and he and Mr. Satterthwaite, another of Christie’s protagonists, begin to search for the truth. Then, another death occurs – in exactly the same fashion – at another house party. When Poirot discovers who the murderer is, and uncovers the reason for the deaths, we see that this killer’s been on the borderline of madness for quite some time.

That’s also true in Christie’s Hallowe’en Party, in which Poirot investigates the murder of Joyce Reynolds, a young teenager, at a community Hallowe’en party. Poirot goes to Woodleigh Common, where the murder occurred, and begins to search for the truth. As he finds out more and more, it’s clear that Joyce’s murder is connected with an earlier disappearance and murder, and that the killer has no qualms about striking again. After another murder, Poirot realizes he has very little time before the murderer strikes yet again. At the end of the novel, we find out that Poirot’s matching wits with a murderer who’s never been mentally stable.

In Robin Cook’s Godplayer, there’s another interesting example of a killer whose murderers are very much the result of being on the razor’s edge between madness and sanity. In that novel, Dr. Cassandra “Cassi” Kingsley, a psychiatry resident at a prestigious Boston hospital, finds out about a series of unexplained deaths following what was supposed to have been routine heart surgery. She and her friend Dr. Robert Seibert, a pathology resident, try to make sense of the deaths. Before long, Cassi realizes that she’s on the trail of a ruthless killer. The closer Cassi gets to the truth, the more her own life is in danger. In many of Robin Cook’s novels, the killer turns out to be a person whom we might argue is amoral, but not mad. In this particular novel, though, the killer turns out to be already mentally unstable. Although arguably not one of Cook’s finest works, it’s an interesting psychological study of someone who’s on that razor’s edge between sanity and mental instability.

Even closer ot the razor’s edge of insanity is the killer in Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code, which features Harvard historian Robert Langdon. Langdon is summoned to the Louvre to help solve the mystery of the murder of curator Jacques Saunière. When Langdon arrives, he finds codes and symbols that suggest that Saunière’s death is related to the ancient Knights of the Templar and the centuries-old search for the Holy Grail. Throughout the novel, Langdon and his companion, Sophie Neveu, are pursued by a killer who, as it turns out, has always been unbalanced. What’s interesting about this novel is that we get to see part of the action through the killer’s eyes, and this gives the reader a sense of what it’s like to be on the brink of madness.

There are also, of course, those who are pushed (or driven) to that razor’s edge because of a murder that they’ve committed. In fact, Agatha Christie treats this topic in more than one book. For instance in After the Funeral (AKA Funerals are Fatal), Hercule Poirot investigates the death of Richard Abernethie, the wealthy patriarch of the Abernethie family. When the family gathers after his funeral, Abernethie’s sister, Cora Lansquenet, hints that her brother was murdered. At first, the other members of the family remonstrate with Cora, but secretly, they begin to wonder, since Cora has a history of blurting out unwelcome truths. When Cora herself is brutally murdered the next day, there seems no doubt that she was right. Poriot investigates both murders with the help of Mr. Entwhistle, the family attorney. When the murderer is revealed, it turns out that committing the murder has driven the killer “over the edge.” In fact, at the end of the novel, Mr. Entwhistle reports that the murderer’s been sent to an insane asylum and is quite happily making future plans – as if the murders had not occurred.

There’s also an interesting study of a character driven to the razor’s edge in Lilian Jackson Braun’s The Cat Who Wasn’t There. In that novel, Jim Qwilleran, Braun’s sleuth, travels to Scotland with a group of fellow residents of the small town of Pickax. While they’re there, Irma Hasselrich, the tour leader, suddenly dies. At first, her death is put down to heart failure, but Qwilleran soon comes to believe that she was murdered. Qwilleran’s a former investigative reporter and now a columnist, so he’s always curious about the unexplained. When he returns to Pickax, Qwilleran begins to look into Irma’s past to try to find out who murdered her. As Qwilleran gets closer to the truth, he realizes that Irma’s death is related to a number of odd thefts in Pickax. By the time he’s found out who the murderer really is, Irma’s killer has been pushed to the limits of mental health and makes a surprising decision.

In The Killing Club, co-written by Michael Malone, we also see an interesting character study of how killing can drive a person towards the proverbial precipice of madness. A group of high school students calling themselves The Killing Club, puts together a Death Book, a book of ways that they would kill people they don’t like. The club breaks up after the suicide of one of its members. Eerily, that suicide mimics one of the Death Book’s scenarios. The club members go their separate ways for ten years. Then, one of the members is killed; his death, too, replicates a murder described in the The Death Book. When the rest of the club members gather for the funeral, another death occurs. Jamie Ferrara is a former member of the club, now a police officer for the New Jersey town where the deaths occurred. She and her boss investigate the deaths and find out that they’re all connected to a long-ago incident. When Ferrara learns the truth, we learn that having been involved in that long-ago tragedy has driven the killer to the razor’s edge of insanity.

Sometimes, it’s not easy to tell whether a killer’s always been too close to the edge of sanity, or whether killing is what pushes the murderer that far. That’s the case in Rita Mae Brown’s Rest in Pieces, which features her sleuth, Mary Minor “Harry” Haristeen, postmistress of Crozet, Virginia.. When pieces of a body begin to show up in different places in town, the locals blame Blair Bainbridge, the town’s newest arrival and Harry’s neighbor. Harry’s not so sure, though, so she begins to investigate. Soon, another body turns up, this time on Blair’s farm; still, Harry’s convinced that someone else is responsible for the deaths. When Harry finds out who really committed the murders, it turns out that the killer has always seethed inside. And yet, it’s the murders that seem to have pushed the killer over the edge, so to speak. At the climactic point in the novel, the killer tells Harry, “Kill me, because if I get to you, I’ll kill you.”

That’s similar to the reaction of the killer in Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile, in which Hercule Poirot investigates the murder of beautiful, rich socialite Linnet Ridgeway Doyle, who’s shot during a honeymoon cruise up the Nile. Poirot is on the same cruise, so he’s asked to help find the killer. By the time he finds out who the killer is, two more people are dead. The killer realizes the effect of the murders and even confesses, “I’m not safe.” In some ways, the killer in this novel has always been a little “on the edge.” Yet, the fact of killing has driven the killer to the precipice of insanity. There’s actually a fascinating discussion in this particular novel about how killing affects the killer.

In many crime novels, of course, the killer isn’t anywhere near that razor’s edge. But in novels where the killer is closer to the edge, that borderline world between mental health and a break with sanity can add a fascinating layer of suspense and interest.

Do you agree? Do you enjoy novels that explore that borderline? Or do you prefer novels where the killer is a perfectly balanced individual who kills for a prosaic reason such as gain or safety?