Crime Writer Margot Kinberg

An interesting conversation with Moira at Clothes in Books has got me thinking about a trope that we’ve seen in several crime novels: the young woman who wants to be an actress or dancer. Both of those professions, of course, demand a lot of hard work, and they’re both notoriously difficult to break into, especially at first. And yet, many young people have proverbial stars in their eyes, and try to become famous. Certainly, we see a lot of this in crime fiction.

Agatha Christie’s The Body in the Library begins as Colonel Arthur Bantry and his wife Dolly get a bad shock early one morning. The body of a young woman has been found in their library. The police are called in and, as you can imagine, Colonel Bantry is a person of interest. He’s innocent, but his wife wants to find out who the murderer really is, So, she calls on her friend Miss Marple to get to the truth. The first task is to identify the victim. At first, she’s identified as Ruby Keene, a dancer at the Majestic Hotel. Ruby was reported missing when she didn’t show up for a midnight dance exhibit she was scheduled to do. And a young woman who hopes to make a career as a dancer wouldn’t be likely to skip out on a performance. The case turns out to be more complicated than it seems on the surface, and Miss Marple has to untangle a web of lies and deception to find out what really happened.

In Ernest Boneman’s The Face on the Cutting-Room Floor, Cameron McCabe works for a British film company and is now a supervising film editor. One day, his boss tells him to completely cut out an aspiring actress, Estella Lamare, from a new film that’s being produced. McCabe isn’t sure why that decision was taken since the film has to do with a love triangle. But he’s gotten his instructions. What he doesn’t know at first is that this is his boss’ revenge on Estella for rebuffing his advances. Then, a few days later, Estella is found dead on the cutting-room floor of the studio.  It’s hard to tell whether her death was murder, an accident or suicide. But it seems as though one of the stars, Ian Jensen might have killed Estella. But when he is later found murdered, it’s no longer clear, and now the police have to take on the very clear case of the murder of Ian Jensen.

In Ellery Queen’s The Dragon’s Teeth, Queen and his friend Beau Rummell take a chance and open a private investigation agency. One day, they get a new client, wealthy and eccentric Cadmus Cole. He’s spent most of his life at sea and now he wants Queen and Rummell to find his relatives, so that they can inherit when he dies. It turns out that Cole’s only living relations are cousins Kerrie Shawn and Margo Cole. Kerrie is an aspiring actress who’s trying to make it in Hollywood. She lives in a grubby apartment and takes whatever jobs she can get as she waits for roles. Margo has spent most of her life in Paris. Cole’s will stipulates that, in order to inherit, the two cousins must live together in Cole’s large house for one year after his death. Both young women agree and, when Cole does pass away, they make the move. For Kerrie, it’s a dream come true, as she’ll have the money that she needs to really get her career started. But everything changes when Margo is shot, and Kerrie is suspected. Now, Queen and Rummell will have to find out the truth if they’re to save Kerrie from prison.

Ngaio Marsh’s Opening Night (AKA A Night at the Vulcan) introduces Martyn Tarn, who’s recently moved from New Zealand to London, so she can pursue a stage career. She gets her chance when she’s hired as a fill-in dresser for famous actress Helena Hamilton. It’s not much, but it’s a start. Martyn works hard and proves herself to the point where she becomes Helena Hamilton’s understudy. Then Helena’s husband is murdered. Inspector Roderick Alleyn begins the investigation. As it turns out, the death in this case eerily resembles a legend that Martyn heard when she first came to work at the Vulcan, and that legend has its part in what really happened.

Sarah Dunant’s Birth Marks is the first of her Hannah Wolfe cases. Hannah is a private investigator who does freelance work for her former mentor. One day, she gets a very strange case. Former dancer Augusta Patrick became a mentor for Carolyn Hamilton, who showed herself to be a talented dancer. Carolyn went off to pursue her career, but she still kept in touch with her mentor. Now, Augusta is concerned because she hasn’t heard from Carolyn. She wants Hannah to find out what happened to the young woman. Hannah begins by following Carolyn’s career through dance classes and small roles. She talks to the people Carolyn knew and tries to put together a picture of what might have happened. Then, Carolyn’s body is pulled from the Thames. As far as Augusta is concerned, that’s the end of the story, especially when it’s discovered that Carolyn was pregnant. It seems clear that she committed suicide. But Hannah isn’t at all sure of that, and she starts to ask questions. The trail leads through the dance community and all the way to France and back.

It’s a lot of hard work to make it in the world of the stage and screen. And the dangers don’t always just come from the many hours of rehearsal, low pay, and rejections. Just ask any crime-fictional aspiring actress or dancer. Thanks, Moira, for the inspiration. Now, folks, treat yourself to a visit to Moira’s great blog. Excellent reviews and commentary on clothes, culture, and what it all says about us await you.

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice’s High Flying Adored.