Crime Writer Margot Kinberg

We communicate with each other so often that it’s second nature. It’s easy to forget how difficult it can be when communication doesn’t work. But that does happen, and it can make for real challenges. You can well imagine the frustration when you’re trying to be understood, and the other person doesn’t get your meaning. That happens to us often enough in everyday life. In real-life crime and in crime fiction, that difficulty can mean that the police don’t get information they need, among other things. And that frustration can add tension to a story, as well as an interesting layer to a character’s personality.

For instance, in Alice La Plante’s Turn of Mind, we are introduced to Chicago-based orthopaedic surgeon Dr. Jennifer White. She’s been diagnosed with dementia and has had to retire because of it. Now, she lives with a caregiver, Magdalena, and gets through life as best she can, with some days been better than others. One day, the woman next door, Amanda O’Toole, is found murdered. Detective Luton takes the case, and it’s not long before she discovers that Jennifer White and Amanda O’Toole had known each other for a long time and had a history together. What’s more, four fingers were removed from the body in a way that only a surgeon would be likely to know. So, as you can imagine, Luton begins to focus the investigation on Jennifer. But, Jennifer’s advancing dementia makes it extremely difficult to conduct meaningful interviews, get information, and so on. Among other things, the book shows the difficulty of serious barriers to communication.

We also see how dementia can impede communication in Charity Norman’s Remember Me. After years away, Emily Kirlkland returns to New Zealand to care for her father Felix, who has Alzheimer’s. It’s not really a joyful homecoming, though. There’s her father, of course, who will increasingly need care. There’s also the fact that Emily and her father were never really close, so there’s bound to be awkwardness. And then there’s the fact that twenty-five years earlier, Leah Parata, who lived next door, left for a three-day trip and never returned. Her disappearance has weighed on the town for years, and Emily was one of the last to see her. Felix tries to function by leaving notes for himself to remind him of basic facts of his history as well as facts about ordinary things. Those notes give Emily clues that her family may have had more to do with the Paratas than she’d thought. And that spurs her to try to find out what happened to Leah. She knows that her father might know more about the family history, but she’ll have to face the challenge of communicating with him as his dementia advances.

That’s also the case with Christopher Boone in Mark Haddon’s The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. Fifteen-year-old Christopher has autism. He’s high enough functioning that he can go to school in a special program, and that he can talk to family members, etc. But he is limited in his ability to communicate clearly. One day, the dog that lives next door is killed, and its owner is convinced that Christopher is responsible. Christopher, though, knows he is innocent. So, he decides to solve the case, just like his literary hero, Sherlock Holmes. He asks questions, goes from house to house to get answers, and so on. As he searches for the truth, we see how difficult it is at times for Christopher to make sense of what he’s learning. He doesn’t always understand social cues and nuances. What’s more, he’s literal minded, so he doesn’t understand idioms. In the end, though, he learns what happened, and he learns some things about himself.

Belinda Bauer’s Patrick Fort, whom we meet in Rubbernecker, is also neurodivergent – he has Asperger’s Syndrome. His father was struck by a car, and ever since then, Patrick has been fascinated by what makes people die. He studies anatomy at university in Cardiff, mostly because of that keen interest. When a cadaver is brought in, Patrick and his fellow students begin their study of the corpse. Patrick notices some details that aren’t consistent with the official reports the students were given. That makes him curious about what really happened. It’s difficult for him, though, because his social skills and communication skills are somewhat limited. Among other things, this book is an interesting look at the challenges neurodivergent people face when they’re trying to live life and do their jobs.

We also see this with Tim Sullivan’s Detective Sergeant George Cross, too. He has Asperger’s, which limits his communication skills, his understanding of non-verbal cues and other nuances, and his understanding of wit. All of this makes him difficult to work with at times. His co-workers understand that he’s not a malicious person. Still, he sometimes behaves in ways that are at least irritating, and at most, hurtful. For instance, when he’s finished with a conversation, he has a habit of simply walking away. When an idea occurs to him, he simply follows up, usually not telling anyone where he’s going. This is especially hard on his police partner, Josie Ottey. She’s learned how to communicate with him, and she helps him navigate his relationships with his other colleagues. But even she struggles at times. But George Cross is a brilliant detective who notices every detail and every inconsistency. He’s not skilled at communicating, but he is a top-notch detective.

It’s hard enough to be a police detective. It’s even harder when communication is challenged. Simply getting answers to questions can present real difficulties, and that can make a case harder to solve. But it can also make for solid tension in a story, and the dynamics can add layers to a plot.

*NOTE: The title of this story is a line from 10CC’s The Things We Do For Love.