It’s the puzzle of mystery novels that attracts me the most. The details that make me analyze and think critically and try to make sense of the world. But why not add a whiff of romance? Personal relationships give detective stories that extra spice to make us even more engaged or pull us back to read it again and again. In the 1930’s the best-selling authors of the western world were four women: Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers, Ngaio Marsh, and Margery Allingham. They were dubbed the Four Queens of Crime. They knew something about romantic relationships.
Dorothy L. Sayers was most famous for her Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries and she introduced the character, Harriet Vane, a mystery writer, in the sixth Lord Peter book, Strong Poison. Harriet is accused of murdering her former lover and Lord Peter takes her case, immediately falling in love with her. As an independent woman, and just having been through a trauma, Harriet is not ready for a relationship, although she does find him amusing. In Have His Carcase, they collaborate on a murder case and she becomes fond of his company. This relationship brightens the stories with witty banter and humor, especially how he constantly proposes and she always declines. In Have His Carcase, they are grubbily searching a sandy beach for clues to a grisly murder:
Peter: I just wanted to ask whether you’d given any further thought to that suggestion about marrying me.
Harriet (sarcastically): I suppose you were thinking how delightful it would be to go through life like this together?
Peter: Well, not quite like this. Hand in hand was more my idea.
Harriet: What is that in your hand?
Peter: A dead starfish.
Eventually she returns his love in Gaudy Night, and then they are married in Busman’s Honeymoon. Their discussions of the cases always moves the plot forward, and provides the opportunity for Sayers to bring in a woman’s point of view on many topics. Harriet’s inner musings on the case, as well as thoughts on being a writer, give the book a stronger narrative.
Ngaio Marsh’s Roderick Alleyn is one of the most dashing and brilliant detectives of the golden age. His character matures along with her writing, book by book, and in Artists in Crime, Inspector Alleyn meets the painter Agatha Troy on board a ship returning to England from the tropics. The relationship is initially contentious, but through their interactions, Marsh is able to show us more of their personalities, their empathy, and their observation and analytical skills. Their discussions include examining romance in Death in a White Tie:
‘I tell you what,’ said Troy more amiably. ‘I’ve always been frightened of the whole business. Love and so on.’
‘The physical side?’
‘Yes, that, but much more than that. The whole business. The breaking down of all one’s reserves. The mental as well as the physical intimacy.’
‘My mind to me a kingdom is.’
‘I feel it wouldn’t be,’ said Troy.”
They settle their contentions by the end of the book and Troy becomes a key element in several future mysteries, most delightfully in Clutch of Constables. She is not the dense sidekick, aka Watson, but an observant artist who gives Alleyn insights and inspiration, deepening the stories and adding fun to the narrative.
If you haven’t yet read any Margery Allingham, this Queen of Crime from the Golden Age is not to be missed. But where to start in her list of eighteen novels? You don’t have to begin at the beginning. Margery Allingham’s Albert Campion meets Lady Amanda Fitton in Sweet Danger, when she is seventeen and his character has matured from the earlier novels. They partner up and solve the mystery, largely due in part to her scientific and mechanical talents, and they make a special connection.
At the end of the story, Amanda, wounded from the final adventure, says to him –
“But I thought you might consider me as a partner in the business later on…I don’t want to go to a finishing school, you know.”
“Good Lord, no,” said Campion, aghast at the prospect.
“Look here,” she went on. “I shan’t be ready for about six years yet. But then–well, I’d like to put you on the top of my list.”
Campion held out his hand with sudden eagerness. “Is that a bet?”
Amanda’s small cold fingers grasped his own. “Done,” she said.
The relationship is even more important in The Fashion in Shrouds when she is working as an aircraft engineer and helps Albert in his investigation by pretending to be engaged to him. In Traitor’s Purse they are actually engaged, but the relationship has become rocky. During this adventure, Albert is able to understand his deeper feelings for Amanda, perhaps because he is suffering from amnesia and is able to let go of his very proper English upper class emotional guard. The interplay between the plot and their relationship makes this book one of my favorites. Amanda’s brilliance in science, observation and investigation, as well as her courage in dangerous situations, gives the Campion series a boost.
Now, what about Agatha Christie, the Queen of Queens, you ask? You can cite Tommy and Tuppence, but there were only a few of those adventures early on in her career. Miss Marple had no flirtations, although her reputation amongst local police and Scotland Yard inspectors was full of admiration and respect. Perhaps Christie chose an older character in order to avoid romantic entanglements for her analytic protagonist. And Hercule Poirot, the most famous of her characters? Of course there was his bond with Captain Arthur Hastings. Their relationship is obviously close and Poirot is concerned with Hasting’s happiness, pointing out every romantic possibility for Hastings in his teasing way. And they are always so glad to see each other when Hastings returns from travel. In Poirot’s last story, Curtain, when they meet after several years, Captain Hastings observes:
Only his eyes were the same as ever, shrewd and twinkling, and now—yes, undoubtedly—softened with emotion.
“Ah, mon ami Hastings—mon ami Hastings. . . .”
I bent my head and, as was his custom, he embraced me warmly.
“Mon ami Hastings!” Poirot leaned back, surveying me with his head a little to one side. “Yes, just the same—the straight back, the broad shoulders, the grey of the hair—très distingué. You know, my friend, you have worn well. Les femmes, they still take an interest in you? Yes?”
Later in the story, Poirot even suggests a liaison with a younger widowed friend. He knows Hastings is lonely, and Poirot, in ill health, is not long for this world. Their deep affection for each other, their love, is most certain.
In my novel, The Four Queens of Crime, every character deals with personal relationships. For the four writers, I tried to match what was happening in their real lives at the time, as well as how they wrote their characters. And for Lilian Wiles, the actual first woman DCI at Scotland Yard, being committed to her career as a woman in those times had special challenges, for example, women police were not allowed to be married. What impact did that have on their lives and their profession? All relationships are important in real life and in the books we read, romantic and otherwise. When detectives show their emotional lives, whether through romantic entanglements, family situations, or with ‘brothers’ in arms, this connects us to them and therefore, we better engage with the story. So, to the question of romance in detective stories? Bring it on, I say. Viva L’Amour!
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