Small communities are often close-knit, even insular. They may be suspicious of ‘outsiders,’ and all too ready to blame someone – anyone – other than one of their own when there’s a crime. And that makes some sense; it’s hard to accept that someone you’ve known for years, who’s a member of the same community, could be guilty of something like murder. We see that in real life, of course, and it’s all through crime fiction. There are far too many examples for me to mention in this one post; here are just a few.

In Agatha Christie’s Dead Man’s Folly, fourteen-year-old Marlene Tucker is murdered during a fête at the home of Sir George and Lady Hattie Stubbs. Hercule Poirot is staying at the house, and he works with Inspector Bland to find out who the killer is. At one point, Bland is speaking with his assistant, PC Hoskins, who is local and knows everyone. He wants Hoskins’ opinion on the murder:

‘Who did it, Hoskins?’ …
‘Foreigner, if you ask me. ‘Twouldn’t be anyone local.’

Hoskins is a member of a small community in which everyone knows everyone. It’s hard to believe that someone he may have known for years is a killer. It’s easier for him to be biased against ‘foreigners.’

In Stephen Booth’s Dying to Sin, Detective Sergeant (DS) Diane Fry and Detective Constable (DC) Ben Cooper of the Derbyshire police investigate when a set of old remains is found on Pity Wood Farm. The farm used to be the property of brothers Raymond and Derek Sutton, so it’s possible that one or both of them is involved. But forensic evidence suggests that the remains were buried after the brothers sold the farm. So, Fry and Cooper look closely at Pity Wood’s new owner, Manchester attorney Aaron Goodwin. But he bought the land for development and has barely been there. As the investigation continues, the Fry and Cooper think that perhaps the local people might know something about what happened. So, they visit the nearby town of Rakedale. It turns out, though, that the residents are insular and unwilling to co-operate. They don’t want to implicate anyone local, and that makes it very hard to solve the crime at first.

Anne Zouroudi’s The Messenger of Athens introduces her enigmatic protagonist Hermes Diaktoros. In the novel, Diaktoros travels from Athens to the island of Thiminos to investigate the death of Irini Asimakopoulos, who was pushed, or jumped, or fell, from a cliff. Diaktoros soon finds that very few people are willing to talk to him. It’s a small, close-knit community, where people know each other. Many aren’t exactly willing to believe that one of their own is a killer. And if the killer is a local, there are people who are willing to help cover it up. It doesn’t help matters that Diaktoros is an ‘outsider,’ who doesn’t really know the local history.

In Barry Maitland’s The Marx Sisters, Detective Chief Inspector (DCI) David Brock and Detective Sergeant (DS) Kathy Kolla are called in to investigate when Meredith Winterbottom is found dead. At first, it looks like a case of suicide. The victim was elderly and was having financial trouble. But Kolla and Brock are not completely satisfied with that explanation, so they start looking more deeply into the case. Part of the trail leads to the district in which the victim lived, London’s historic Jerusalem Lane. The people who live there are a tight-knit community. They all know one another, and they don’t want to admit that one of their members could be a killer. In the end, Brock and Kolla do find out the truth, but they have to get past that resistance to ‘outsiders’ to do it.

One plot line in Kate Ellis’ The Merchant’s House concerns the disappearance of young Jonathon Berrisford from the yard of the summer cottage where he and his mother, Elaine, are staying. As you can well imagine, Elaine is frantic and goes immediately to the Tadmouth police. Wesley Peterson, who’s just taken up his duties in Tadmouth, begins an investigation. Part of the trail leads to a group of Travellers who are in the area. They’re suspicious of anyone not in their group, so they are not eager to welcome ‘outsiders’ – especially the police – to their encampment. They’re protective of each other, too, and don’t want to get one of their own in trouble. It takes effort and time to find answers from them.

And that’s the thing about those small communities. The members don’t want to believe (or admit) that one of them is a criminal. It’s easier (and sometimes safer) to blame someone else from the outside. It’s an understandable way of thinking, but it can make things difficult for investigators. These are, as I say, just a few examples. Your turn.

*NOTE: The title of this post is the title of a song by the Killers.