Authors as investigators, by Elizabeth Kay
How many authors have fancied themselves as detectives? The ones who love to second guess the plot of a TV series – not just whodunnit, but who missed that vital piece of evidence that was staring them in the face? And furthermore, which character is going to spot it, and what are they likely to say? But it’s not just the hypothetical. Every once in a while an occasion for subterfuge crops up, and authors are not above doing a sly bit of investigation themselves – and, on the whole, being pretty good at it. Some years ago now an old friend of mine married someone who turned out to be very bad news. Her choice of men had always been questionable – what I’d call presentation over content – and Jock Campbell rang alarm bells. Perhaps she should have known better. He was a habitual liar, something she and I had been quite creative about at school. “You’re late again, Elizabeth.” “The bus got stuck behind a steamroller, Miss.” Whatever you’d done Jock had done it a bit better. After a pro...