EQMM, November 2007

by Dell Magazine Authors

  "If you say so."

  "Then I dare say you've met some of your neighbours, the people along Steven Street, when they're outside cleaning their cars, doing gardening, or walking the dog. Did you ever speak to the old couple at number twenty-nine?"

  He started swaying back and forth in the chair. “I might have."

  "They have a little toy dog, a Chihuahua. They're very attached to it, I understand."

  "Don't like them,” Jon said, still swaying.

  "Why's that? Something they did?"

  "Don't know."

  "I think you do. Maybe they remind you of some people you knew once."

  He was silent, but the rocking became more agitated. Momentarily his chin lifted from his chest and his face was visible. Fear was written large there.

  "Could this old couple have brought to mind those foster parents you told me about in a previous session, when we discussed your childhood, the people who locked you in the cupboard under the stairs?"

  He moaned a little.

  "They had a small dog, didn't they?"

  He covered his eyes and said, “Don't."

  "All right,” I said. “We'll talk about something else."

  * * * *

  "You'll get thrown out of the union, showing me that,” Morgan said. “Isn't there such a thing as patient confidentiality?"

  "In the first place, I don't belong to a union,” I said, “and in the second, I'm trying to act in the best interests of all concerned."

  "Thinking he could kill again, are you?"

  "Who are we talking about here?” I asked.

  "The second man. Jon. He seems to have a thing about old people. He's obviously very depressed."

  "That's his usual state. It doesn't make him a killer. I wanted you to look at the interview before you jump to a conclusion about Nathan, the other man."

  "Nathan isn't depressed, that's for sure."

  "Agreed. He has a more buoyant personality than Jon. Did you notice the body language? Nathan sits forward, makes eye contact, while Jon looks down all the time. You don't see much of his face."

  "That stuff about the foster parents locking him in the cupboard. Is that true?"

  "Oh, yes, I'm sure of it. I'd be confident of anything Jon tells me. He doesn't give out much, but you can rely on him. With Nathan I'm never sure. He has a fertile imagination and he wants to communicate. He's trying all the time to make his experiences interesting."

  "Falling into the pond, you mean? Did you believe that?"

  "It's not impossible. It would explain the change of clothes."

  "I was sure he was talking bollocks, but now that you've shown me this other man I'm less confident. I'd like to question Jon myself."

  "That won't be possible,” I said.

  He reddened. “It's a bit bloody late to put up the shutters. I've got my job to do and no one's going to stand in my way."

  "Before you get heavy with me, Inspector, let me run a section of the second interview again. I'm going to turn off the sound and I want you to look closely at Jon. There's a moment when he sways back and the light catches his face."

  I rewound the tape and let it play again, fast-forwarding until I found the piece I wanted, the moment I'd mentioned the old couple and Jon had started his swaying, a sure indicator of stress. “There.” I used the freeze-frame function.

  Jon's face was not quite in focus, but there was enough to make him recognisable.

  "Christ Almighty,” Morgan said. “It's the same guy. It's Nathan."

  I let the discovery sink in.

  "Am I right?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  "Then what the hell is going on?"

  "This may be hard for you to accept. Nathan and Jon are two distinct identities contained in the same individual, a condition we know as Dissociative Identity Disorder. It used to be known as Multiple Personality Disorder, but we've moved on in our understanding. These so-called personalities are fragments of the same identity rather than self-contained characters. Jon is the primary identity, passive and repressed. Nathan is an alter ego, extrovert, cheerful and inventive."

  "I've heard of this,” Morgan said. “It's like being possessed by different people. I saw a film once."

  "Exactly. Fertile material for Hollywood, but no entertainment at all if you happen to suffer with it. The disturbance is real and frightening. A subject can take on any number of personality states, each with its own self-image and identity. The identities act as if they have no connection with each other. My job is to deconstruct them and ultimately unite them into one individual. Jon and Nathan will become Jonathan."

  "Neat."

  "It may sound neat, but it's a long process."

  "It's neat for me,” he said. “I wasn't sure which of the two guys is the killer. Now I know there's only one of them, I've got him, whatever he calls himself."

  "I wouldn't count on it,” I said.

  He shot me a foul look.

  "The therapy requires me to find points of contact between the alter-personalities. When you came to me with this double murder, I could see how disturbing it would be for Jon. He carries most of the guilt. But this investigation of yours could be a helpful disturbance. It goes right back to the trauma that I think was the trigger for this condition, his ill-treatment at the hands of foster parents who happened to own a dog they pampered and preferred to the child."

  "My heart bleeds,” Morgan said, “but I have a job to do and two people are dead."

  "So you tell me. Jon thinks he may have murdered them, but he didn't."

  "Come off it,” he said.

  "Listen, please. Nathan's story was true. He really did have that experience with the balloon and the little dog and falling in the pond. For him—as the more positive of the identities—it was one more entertaining experience to relate. But for Jon, who experienced it also, it was disturbing, raising memories of the couple who fostered him and abused him. He felt quite differently, murderous even."

  "Hold on,” Morgan said. “Are you trying to tell me the murders never happened?"

  "They happened in the mind of Jon, and they are as real to him as if he cut those old people's throats himself. But I promise you the old couple are alive and well. I went to Steven Street at lunchtime and spoke to them. They confirmed what Nathan told me."

  "I don't get this. I'm thinking you're nuts as well."

  "But it's important that you do get it,” I told him. “There's a third identity at work here. It acts as a kind of conscience, vengeful, controlling, and ready to condemn. It, too, is convinced the murders took place and have to be investigated. Recognising this is the first step towards integration. Do me a favour and have another look at Jon's face. It's still on the screen."

  He gave an impatient sigh and glanced at the image.

  "Now look at this, Inspector."

  I handed him a mirror.

  (c)2007 by Peter Lovesey

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  BLOG BYTES by Bill Crider

  Last month I talked about some “group blogs.” This month I have a few more to tell you about. One is The Lipstick Chronicles (thelipstickchronicles.typepad.com/), where Harley Jane Kozak, Nancy Martin, Elaine Viets, Sarah Strohmeyer, and Michele Martinez, collectively known as the Book Tarts, hold forth. They all write books that combine elements of chick lit, mystery, and romance, and they make good company. Like most bloggers, they post about whatever interests them. Recently, Kozak posted on “Sex with Millionaires.” (You'll just have to find it and read it.) Nancy Martin wrote about “Woman Rules Regarding Stubborn Men,” and guest blogger Rebecca the Bookseller tried, with the help of the readers, to create the perfect music CD for travel.

  A different kind of blog is Nasty, Brutish, and Short (nastybrutishshort.blogspot.com/). There are plenty of sites where you can read book reviews, but this one is for short-story reviews. As far as I know, it's the only place you can find those right now. Here's a disclaimer: I'm one of the occasional reviewers.<
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  The others are Gerald So, Graham Powell, John Rickards, and Steven Torres. The reviews are of stories from this magazine (naturally), Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, and various anthologies. It's a good place to compare your opinions with those of others and maybe to discover a new writer or a story you might otherwise have overlooked.

  Crimespace (crimespace.ning.com/) isn't a blog. It's a website that bills itself as “A place for readers and writers of crime fiction to schmooze, booze, and draw up plans for the heist to end all heists. Find new authors to delve into and discuss the latest in crime fiction. Share photos, videos, and make some friends.” Overseen by Daniel Hatadi, it's a social network, sort of like MySpace for crime-fiction writers and fans, which means you have to join before you take part. If you do decide to join, you can create your own page, upload photos and music, participate in the discussion forums, and more.

  Bill Crider's own blog, Bill Crider's Pop Culture Magazine, can be found at billcrider.blogspot.com.

  (c)2007 Bill Crider

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  Using the number of titles published as the measure, crime fiction must be at an all-time peak. And the Wall Street expression that a rising tide raises all boats also applies to the various mystery market sectors. For example, the pile from which I choose titles for this annual books-in-translation column is higher than ever. The eight new novels considered below represent seven languages and the same number of countries.

  ***** Asa Larsson: The Blood Spilt, translated from the Swedish by Marlaine Delargy, Delacorte, $22. The second nov-el about attorney Rebecka Martinsson, already a leader in the contentious race for most cruelly tormented series character in crime fiction, concerns the murder of a female priest whose efforts to do good made enemies among her fellow villagers and professional colleagues. Illuminating issues of gender politics and the changing role of religion in 21st-century Europe, this beautifully written, faultlessly constructed novel is one of the finest crime novels of recent years, featuring both a com-plex victim, gradually revealed through flashbacks, and a complex killer. The subtly advanced theme is based on a familiar biblical parable.

  **** Jan Costin Wagner: Ice Moon, translated from the German by John Brownjohn, Harcourt, $25. Here is an unusual and remarkably original variation on an overly familiar subgenre: the inverted detective story that alternates viewpoints of cop and serial killer. While mourning his recently deceased wife, Finnish police detective Kimmo Joentaa re-turns to work, investigating a series of crimes beginning with the smothering murder of a woman without obvious enemies. This outstanding novel fulfills the requirements of its type but shuns the expected suspense set-pieces and shocking reversals in favor of insights into personal, professional, and family relationships.

  **** Boris Akunin: Sister Pelagia and the White Bulldog, translated from the Russian by An-drew Bromfield, Random House, $9.95. Nun detective Pelagia is dispatched to the palatial home of her bishop's aunt to investigate the poisoning of a rare white bulldog. Akunin offers historical, social, cultural, and religious commentary on 19th-century Russia, classical detection from fairly provided clues, a climactic trial, and a finishing teaser for the next book in the series. The period-style narrative includes such old-fashioned touches as overheard conversations, direct addresses to the reader, and announced tangents not directly related to the story that the impatient may safely skip. The forms of name make it challenging to keep the characters straight, and this author is clearly a specialized taste, but those who share his interests will be delighted.

  *** Saskia Noort: The Dinner Club, translated from the Dutch by Paul Vincent, Bitter Lemon, $14.95. In this sexually-charged suburban adultery thriller, the lives of five couples who have fled Amsterdam for village life troubled husband. Dire revelations follow. Shifts in time are accomplished expertly, and the characters are involving though (including the woman who narrates) not notably likable.

  *** Andrea Camilleri: The Patience of the Spider, translated from the Italian by Stephen Sartarelli, Penguin, $13. Sicily's engaging Inspector Montalbano, recovering from wounds and feeling his age, investigates the kidnapping of a young woman whose family clearly hasn't the money to pay a ransom. The plot is neatly worked out and fairly enough clued that many readers will figure out at least part of it. With tantalizing un-explained allusions in some of the other books under review, translator Sartarelli is owed gratitude for his customary helpful notes. (Reflecting an a-larming trend, the advance copy sent to reviewers is printed on far better paper than the edition offered to book buyers.)

  *** Carlo Lucarelli: The Damned Season, translated from the Italian by Michael Reynolds, Eur-opa, $14.95. In the novella-length second book of a trilogy set in a chaotic Italy at the end of World War II, Commissario De Luca agrees to investigate the multiple murder of a family to prevent his past working for the fascists being exposed. The plot is nothing extraordinary, but the milieu is a fresh one. The underlying theme: which-ever way the political winds may blow, a cop is still a cop.

  ** Alicia Giménez-Bartlett: Prime Time Suspect, translated from the Spanish by Nicholas Caistor, Europa, $14.95. Barce-lona police inspector Petra Delicado investigates the murder of an unpleasant journalist and TV personality who gave many reason to hate him. Delicado and her older male partner Fermin Garzon are engaging enough characters, but the story is long-winded and the title's reminder of Lynda LaPlante's British TV series Prime Suspect is unfortunate. Petra, who seems too naive, inexperienced, and indecisive for her rank, is a far cry from Jane Tennison.

  ** Asa Nonami: The Hunter, translated from the Japanese by Juliet Winters Carpenter, Kodansha, $24.95. The spontaneous immolation murder of a Tokyo restaurant customer begins a complicated case for policewoman Takako Otomichi and her oppressive male colleagues. While the repetition and excessive detail are tiresome, the views of police procedure and cultural attitudes are illuminating. One would like to think the disrespect accorded a woman in law enforcement (even in 1996, when this book was first published in Japan) is exaggerated, but maybe not.

  Two classic writers of French-language crime fiction are represented in reprint. In Maurice Leblanc's Arsene Lupin, Gentleman-Thief (Penguin Classics, $14.00), Michael Sims has selected and annotated 13 of the best stories, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos, about one of the most mysterious and entertaining characters in the genre. Leblanc, who wrote about Lupin from 1905 to the edge of the 1930s, was a pioneer of stunt construction and a strong influence on writers to follow—Ellery Queen, certainly and Agatha Christie (per Sims's excellent introduction) probably. Two of Georges Simenon's Maigret novels (Penguin, $12 each) provide views of one of detective fiction's happiest marriages: The Madman of Bergerac and The Friend of Madame Maigret (also published as Madame Maigret's Own Case), first published in French in 1932 and 1950 and translated by Geoffrey Sainsbury and Helen Sebba respectively. The latter book is especially strong, a complexly plotted novel that erases any doubt that Maigret inhabited (at least some of the time) genuine police procedurals.

  The August 1948 issue of EQMM introduced to English language readers the great Argentine author Jorge Luis Borges with “The Garden of Forking Paths,” which explores a familiar science fictional conceit along with its mystery elements. That story and the more conventional detective tale “Death and the Compass” are included in the 1962 collection Labyrinths: Selected Stories & Other Writings (New Directions, $13.95), edited by Donald A. Yates and James E. Irby. This new edition adds an “invitation” by William Gibson and an addendum to Irby's original introduction. Most of the inclusions are translated by the editors.

  (c)2007 by Jon L. Breen

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  BENJAMIN'S DEMISE by Herschel Cozine

  Detective McGrew settled back in a chair

  In the den of thelate Mr. Benjamin Blair,

  With the butler, the maid, the cook and the wife,

  And (in Benjamin's back), a most murderous knife.

  -


  Now which of the persons who stood in the den

  Was the one who inserted the knife in poor Ben?

  The fastidious butler, so prim and so proper?

  The crochety cook, with her hair dyed like copper?

  The maid, with her broom and her mop and her duster?

  The beautiful wife—how could anyone trust her?

  -

  Detective McGrew thought in silence awhile,

  Then rose from his chair with a satisfied smile.

  "it wasn't the cook, and I'm sure I know why.

  The knife is the finest that money can buy.

  And would she have taken the finest, pray tell,

  When any old knife would have served just as well?

  And the butler's main duty, as everyone knows,

  Is to clean and to care for the gentleman's clothes.

  So I'm sure he would wait ‘til the old boy was dressed

  In something less fine than this elegant vest.

  And the maid? Not a chance! She is tidy and neat.

  Why, there isn't a speck of dust under our feet.

  And to dirty the carpet to do the chap in

  Would to her be a most unforgivable sin.

  So, that leaves only one who would take the man's life:

  None other than Benjamin's beautiful wife!"

  And the unruffled wife gave a sigh and a shrug.

  I'm so sorry,” she said, “that I dirtied the rug."

  -

  (c)2007 Herschel Cozine

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  LITTLE SECRETS by Mike MacLean

  Tempe, Arizona's Mike MacLean is a newcomer to EQMM. Readers may well have encountered his crime stories elsewhere, however. In 2006, his story “McHenry's Gift” was chosen for Best American Mystery Stories, edited by Scott Turow. He gives us an unconventional P.I. here, one who works “off the books."

  He kicked me again, his foot smashing hard into my ribs. All at once, every ounce of oxygen tried to escape my body. I winced in pain and folded to the sidewalk. This wasn't turning out to be one of my better evenings.