Have you ever had that sinking feeling that ‘this is not going to end well?’ Maybe it’s because your car’s making a weird noise. Or maybe your boss has sent you a ‘see me right away, please’ sort of email. You bring your car to the mechanic, or go see your boss, because you can’t really avoid it. But you know it’s not going to go well. That sense that things are about to go badly can add tension to a story, as well as a layer of character development. It can also resonate with readers.

For instance, in Agatha Christie’s Mrs. McGinty’s Dead, Superintendent Albert ‘Bert’ Spence asks Hercule Poirot to investigate the murder of a village charwoman. Everyone thinks her unpleasant lodger, James Bentley, committed the murder; in fact, he’s been arrested, tried, and convicted, and is set to be executed. But Spence thinks he may be innocent. Poirot agrees to look into the matter and plans a trip to the village of Broadhinny. He asks Spence where he might stay. Spence mentions Long Meadows, the home of Johnnie and Maureen Summerhayes. Then he goes on:

‘It’s not really a Guest House, just a rather decrepit country house where the young couple who own it take in paying guests. I don’t think,’ said Spence dubiously, ‘that it’s very comfortable.’
Hercule Poirot closed his eyes in agony. ‘If I suffer, I suffer,’ he said. ‘It has to be.’

Poirot has a strong sense that he’s going to have a miserable time at Long Meadows, but he goes anyway. His prediction proves correct, too. The place is poorly managed and badly kept, and the food is, to Poirot, practically inedible. Detective novelist Ariadne Oliver is also staying in Broadhinny, working with local playwright Robin Upward on an adaptation of one of her books. She, too, has a sense of impending disaster when it comes to working on the play, and so it turns out to be. Her ideas, and Robin’s ideas are, to say the least, incompatible.

There’s a darker example of that sort of premonition in James M. Cain’s Double Indemnity. Insurance agent Walter Huff is in the Hollywood Hills area when he decides to visit one of his clients, H.R. Nirdlinger, to see about a policy renewal. Nirdlinger isn’t at home, but his wife, Phyllis, is. Right from the start, Huff finds her attractive, and she does nothing to discourage him. Before long, they’re having an affair. Huff knows very well that things are likely to end badly. That doesn’t stop him, though. Then, Phyllis tells him she wants her husband killed. Huff knows that killing someone will get him into even more trouble than he’s already got, but by then, he’s so besotted that he agrees to her plan. He even writes up the double indemnity life insurance policy she wants. The murder is planned, and Huff carries it out. He’s well aware that he’s just killed someone, and that’s when things spin completely out of control…

Martin Clark’s The Legal Limit tells the story of brothers Mason and Gates Hunt. They grew up in an abusive environment that impacted them both, but they managed to survive. Now, Mason has taken advantage of every opportunity, has finished college, and is now in law school. Gates has squandered his athletic talent and now lives on his girlfriend’s Welfare payments and money he gets from his mother. One day, Gates has an argument with his romantic rival, Wayne Thompson. Both men calm a little, but later that night, Gates and Mason run into Thompson again. The argument flares up and by the end of it, Gates has shot Thompson. He asks Mason for help covering things up. Mason knows he’s heading for disaster if he helps, but at the same time, he has a sense of filial loyalty. So, despite his feeling that things will turn out badly, he helps Gates. It all comes back to haunt Mason years later, when Gates again asks his help. This time, Gates is in prison on charges of cocaine trafficking. He wants Mason to get him out of jail, but this time, Mason refuses. Gates threatens to implicate Mason in the Thompson murder, but Mason stands firm. That’s when Mason finds himself about to be on trial for a crime he didn’t commit.

Blair Denholm’s Sold is the first of his novels featuring Gary ‘Gazza’ Braswell. As the novel begins, he sells cars for the Gold Coast’s Southcoast Euro Models. When he gets in debt from ill-advised gambling, he turns to a loan shark for help. He manages to pay the money back, but by the time he does, his ‘lender’ has added a condition: Braswell must carry a load of drugs to Bali and bring back the money he gets for them. Braswell isn’t stupid; he knows exactly what could happen if he goes. He even tries to think of any way he can to get out of the trip. His plans keep backfiring, and the time of the trip keeps getting closer and closer. Then, he comes up with a plan that just might work. If it doesn’t, he knows that he and his wife could both end up dead. But he goes ahead with his plan anyway.

And then there’s Cat Connor’s [Whiskey Tango Foxtrot]. David ‘Crockett’ Crocker of Australian Intelligence is living and working in New Zealand. One day, he gets word of a new mission. Twenty-year-old social media influencer Alexandra ‘Alex’ Fowler needs special protection. She witnessed a murder, and the case is set to come to trial in Australia. Crockett has been tasked with keeping her safe until she can testify. He calls in Veronica ‘Ronnie’ Tracey, PI, and Ben Reynolds, who’s with American Intelligence, to help him keep Alex safe. From the beginning, though, the three of them know that this will not go well. Alex depends on access to her social media to keep her many followers (and the lucrative contracts she has with companies who pay her to endorse their products). So, she’s none too happy about going off the grid, and she makes that abundantly clear. What’s more, she’s spoiled, selfish, and demanding. All three of her protectors have a strong feeling that this is not going to go well. And it turns out their instincts are right…

That sense of impending trouble happens to a lot of people – maybe all of us. We can’t always do much about it, but we know what it’s like to feel we’re heading for trouble. Little wonder we also see this in crime fiction.

*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Donnie Iris’ Ah! Leah!