Crime Writer Margot Kinberg

It’s a new year, and that’s got me to thinking about new beginnings. To be more specific, I thought it might be interesting to take a look at how some famous fictional partnerships began. Sometimes it’s accidental; sometimes it’s planned. But in either case, those partnership beginnings can become an important part of a series’ history.

Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson meet (in A Study in Scarlet) shortly after Watson returns from a tour of duty in Afghanistan. Watson needs a place to live, and Holmes is also looking for a roommate to share expenses. Watson is fascinated by Holmes, especially Holmes’ way of drawing the right conclusions from a simple visual clue or two. Watson soon learns that Holmes is quite unconventional. He keeps strange hours, he conducts odd scientific experiments in the rooms, and he keeps his tobacco in a Persian slipper, rather than in a pouch. And those are just a few examples. Still, the two men like each other, and it’s not long before Watson learns just how skilled Holmes really is at detection.

Agatha Christie introduced both Hercule Poirot and Captain Hastings in her debut novel, The Mysterious Affair at Styles. In that novel, they work together to find out who poisoned Emily Inglethorp, stepmother of Hastings’ friend John Cavendish. It’s clear in the novel that Poirot and Hastings had met before in Belgium, although the Poirot stories are not clear as to what exactly brought them together (other than that it had to do with a shooting). But as this novel progresses, the two begin the partnership that made the stories famous. Hastings sees Poirot’s faults and foibles even as he admires Poirot’s ability as a detective. And Poirot depends on Hastings (sometimes, more than he wants to admit). As fans know, the two form a friendship that lasts for many years.

A Clubbable Woman is Reginald Hill’s first novel to feature Andy Dalziel and Peter Pascoe. In it, rugby player Sam Cannon gets roughed up during a match. He’s in a bit of a daze afterwards, and he has a concussion. So, he goes home and falls into a deep sleep. When he wakes up hours later, he finds that his wife, Mary, has been bludgeoned to death. Superintendent Andy Dalziel investigates, and in this case, he’ll be working with Sergeant Peter Pascoe. The two couldn’t be more different, and neither of them is exactly thrilled with the other. To Dalziel, Pascoe isn’t nearly experienced enough; besides that, he’s educated, perhaps even effete. To Pascoe, Dalziel is boorish and rude. Still, they’re both professionals, and they both want this case solved. As the series goes on, they both learn to respect each other, and we see how their complementary skill sets give them an advantage in their investigations.

Tony Hillerman’s novels focus on two major protagonists. One is Lieutenant Joe Leaphorn (we first meet him in The Blessing Way). The other is Sergeant Jim Chee, whom we first meet in People of Darkness. Leaphorn and Chee first work together in Skinwalkers, when an attempt is made on Chee’s life. That incident may be related to other deaths that Leaphorn is investigating, so he wants Chee to work with him on the case. Both Chee and Leaphorn are members of the Navajo Tribal (now Nation) Police, and both are Navajos. Other than that, they don’t have a great deal in common. Leaphorn identifies less closely with the Navajo Nation, although he’s still accepted as ‘one of us.’ Chee, on the other hand, observes many of the traditions, and feels a deep connection with his culture. Leaphorn is older and more experienced, and perhaps a bit more cynical. Still, they work well together, and as the series goes on, they become a solid team.

Elly Griffiths’ The Crossing Places is the first in her series featuring forensic anthropologist Ruth Galloway, who works at North Norfolk University. In the novel, she is called in as an expert when the remains of a young girl are discovered. Detective Chief Inspector (DCI) Harry Nelson suspects that they may be the bones of Lucy Downey, a young girl who went missing ten years earlier. Ruth examines the remains and determines that they are not those of Lucy Foley. They’re much older than that and that fact opens up all sorts of possibilities for further research. At that point, Ruth thinks it’s the end of her involvement with the case. But then it comes out that another girl has gone missing, and Ruth may be able to help decipher the cryptic clues to her whereabouts. Ruth’s help is invaluable, and it marks the beginning of her professional relationship with Harry; they work together on a number of cases. They also have a very personal relationship; in fact, Harry is the father of Ruth’s daughter. But since he’s married, they can’t really pursue that relationship in the usual way.

And then there’s Paul Levine’s series featuring Steve Solomon and Victoria Lord. They’re both lawyers, but they couldn’t have more different approaches. Steve plays fast and loose with court proceedings, and lives by a series of rules he calls Solomon’s Laws (the first is: When the Law Doesn’t Work, Work the Law). He’s a sort of beach bum who doesn’t, on the surface, take life too seriously. Victoria is a ‘blueblood’ with an Ivy League degree, who follows procedure to the letter. She’s driven and focused, too. When they first meet, in Solomon vs Lord, they’re on opposite sides of a case and end up in contempt of court for their constant arguing. But then, things change. Wealthy Katrina Barksdale has been arrested for murdering her much-older husband Charles for his money. Steve wants the case badly, but to get it, he’ll have to work with Victoria. So, they start co-operating. They do plenty of bickering and have their share of disagreements, but their partnership is successful. They do better together than either does separately.

There’ve been some memorable fictional partnerships in crime fiction, and part of the pleasure in following a series is seeing how they start, and then how they grow and develop over the course of the stories. Which do you like the most?

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Trey Parker, Robert Lopez and Matt Stone’s Two By Two.