Crime Writer Margot Kinberg

If theorists like Abraham Maslow are correct, one of our most important needs is safety. In fact, only our need for basic survival things such as air, food, water, and sleep are more important. If we don’t feel safe, it’s almost impossible to focus on anything else. In real life, it’s terrible to live that way. In crime fiction, that need for safety can add tension, character development, and plot points to a story.

For example, Marie Belloc Lowndes’ The Lodger is the story of the Buntings, a retired London couple who’ve decided to let one of their rooms to earn extra money. At the time, a murderer calling himself the Avenger has been killing young women, so everyone’s a bit afraid. Ladies are warned not to go out alone, etc. So, as you can imagine, the Buntings are very particular about the person they invite as a paying guest. They finally select a man who calls himself Mr. Sleuth. He’s well-spoken, clean, and quiet. Most importantly, he pays well and promptly. He is a bit unusual, though, and Mrs. Bunting begins to wonder about him. As time goes on, her concern grows. As she reads newspaper accounts about the Avenger, and talks to people, she begins to fear that her lodger might be the killer. And yet, the Buntings can certainly use the money. The growing tension as the Buntings try to think of what to do adds much to the story.

In Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None, a group of ten people travel by invitation to Indian Island, off the Devon Coast. Shortly after they arrive, they learn that their host is not there yet. Still, they settle in and gather for dinner. After dinner, each is accused of causing at least one other death. Then, one of the guests collapses and dies of poison. Later that night, there’s another death. It’s soon clear that someone is targeting the group. The surviving guests will have to find out who the killer is if they’re to stay alive. Since no-one knows who the murderer is, the guests can’t trust each other and gradually fear for their own lives. Doors are barred, people keep watch, and so on. And that rising tension adds to the plot.

Kazuhiro Kiyuchi’s Shield of Straw begins as wealthy Takaoki Ninagawa learns that his granddaughter Chia went missing and was later found raped and murdered. The evidence shows that a man called Kunihide Kiyumaru is responsible. He’s fled Tokyo, though, and is now holed up in Fukuoka. Ninagawa wants justice, so he sends out flyers offering a billion-yen reward to the person who kills Kiyumaru and can prove it. Word gets around quickly, and before long, thousands of people are looking for the fugitive. Kiyumaru knows he is now a target, and he fears for his own safety. So, he turns himself in to the Fukuoka police. Tokyo Municipal Police officer Kazuki Mekari and his team are sent to Fukuoka to escort Kiyumaru back to Tokyo to face trial. But by this time, hundreds of thousands of people are planning to earn that one billion yen. So, the trip back will be a matter of survival. That tension keeps the pace moving fast and the suspense strong.

Stark Holborn’s Nunslinger is a series of ten stories that begin in 1864, and feature Sister Thomas Josephine. As the series begins, she is en route from the St. Louis convent where she’s been living to Sacramento, where she hopes to start a new life. The wagon train is attacked in Wyoming, and Sister Josephine is left stranded. She’s rescued by Lieutenant Theodore Carthy and his men, part of a group of Federal troops in the area. But the danger hasn’t ended. She’s taken hostage by a man called Abraham Muir, who promises her that he doesn’t intend to harm her; he needs her as a ‘safety net’ so he can escape the federal troops. True to his word, Muir leaves Sister Josephine unharmed, but they are ambushed by some people who’ve been looking for Muir. And that’s only the beginning of Sister Josephine’s adventures as she makes her way to Sacramento. In more than one instance, she is in terribly unsafe situations and that takes its toll on her. She has to think quickly, act with resolve, and do things she wouldn’t normally dream of doing. The need for safety can have that effect on people.

There’s also Brannavan Gnanalingham’s Sprigs, which takes place in New Zealand. In it, we meet fifteen-year-old Priya Gaianan, a Year Eleven student at St. Simeon’s College. She tends to be shy and, while she’s not an outcast, she’s also not a ‘queen bee.’ One day, she hears of a party being held by a group of First XV rugby players who attend St. Luke’s College. Some of Priya’s friends are going, and she wants to fit in. So, she wangles her parents’ permission to go, too. At the party, she drinks for the first time and has far too much. Before she knows it, she’s gang-raped by a group of four of the St. Luke’s boys. Worse yet, there’s a recording of the rape, and it’s soon uploaded. Priya has never felt less safe. At first, she dares not tell her parents what happened, and she knows that all the young people in both schools know about it, so she can’t show her face at school, either. Even after she tells her mother about the rape, it’s not over for Priya. She’ll have to face her accusers and deal with the social fallout from what happened. Little wonder that all she wants to do is hide away.

And that’s the thing about the basic need for safety. When anything threatens our safety, whether it’s weather, finances, domestic abuse, or something else, we react strongly. It’s in our nature. Not feeling safe is frightening, but in fiction, it can add to a story.

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Men At Work’s Who Can it Be Now?