MAKE ‘EM LAUGH…? Cathy Ace
Is it possible to make crime fiction funny? There are several awards offered that suggest so, and last year I was delighted when one of the books in my WISE Enquiries Agency Mysteries series was shortlisted for the Last Laugh Award for best humorous crime novel at CrimeFest (it didn’t win, but I was absolutely chuffed that it made the list of five). So…how do I aim to make readers smile about crime? Well, I take my lead from Shakespeare: even his tragedies had levity within them, and – let’s be honest – any murder mystery has a tragedy at its heart. However, what The Master did was to use humour as a foil for the bleakness of the story: delivered in small doses, and ring-fenced, the laughs can lighten the mood, change the pace, and even be used to distract from critical clues. I try to write a book that will make a reader smile on many occasions, cry on some, and laugh out loud a few times. I hope and believe that’s the right balance. The following is from my forthcoming 13th WISE book, The Case of the Petrified Potter – a cozy Welsh murder mystery which, in this case, tackles at its core a cold case connected with the memorial service held in Pontrhydyfen for Richard Burton in 1984. It also – as is always the case in these books – contains additional cases/challenges that are being worked on at the same time as the titular case. This scene takes place well into the book, when tensions are high, and hopes of finding a solution to the main case are low. It features Chellingworth’s octogenarian Dowager Duchess, Althea Twyst, who’s trying to find a new butler, and her trusty – and trusted – live-in companion, Mavis MacDonald (one of the four female private investigators who run the WISE Enquiries Agency) who’s helping Althea with what they’ve decided to call: The Case of the Forlorn Factotum (the current factotum, Ian, wants to work fewer hours so he can move in with his girlfriend). I hope it makes you smile:
Althea was pouting. Again. And Mavis was getting sick of it, though, to be fair, Mavis suspected she had a point, at least on this occasion. All four of the candidates they’d interviewed via video link had proved to be surprisingly unsuitable for the position they were hoping to fill at the Dower House…in the dowager’s eyes.
Althea whined, ‘I thought Rachel Edwards was good at what she did. If this is the quality of personnel she tries to place, I’m surprised she’s still in business.’
Mavis tried: ‘I think that’s a wee bit harsh, dear. Their qualifications were all impeccable, and a good match to your needs. They all…looked good on paper.’
‘Well, they won’t be on paper, they’ll be in my home, with the run of it, and I shall have to feel completely comfortable interacting with them. They were all so…so…what’s the word I’m looking for, Mavis?’
‘Young?’
‘No, that’s not it. Young Ian’s young. Even Paul Baker’s not that old. Well, not when compared with me, anyway. They were…is flippant the right word? Or were they just smug? Or maybe…entitled. That’s it. It was as though they were interviewing me, not the other way around. Which is not what I’d expected. Nor desired. I shall speak to Rachel about it, forthwith. She needs to address that quality in them all, or none of them will ever gain employment. No one could possibly want a person like that in their home all the time, could they, Mavis?’
Mavis mused, ‘They’d probably all have done a very good job here.’
‘Not if – as that woman with the lisp said – her personal growth was a factor in her decision-making. I mean, what’s that all about? I absolutely care that my staff members are healthy, and happy, and have the chance to make what they can of themselves. We’re doing all this for Ian, after all. But to stuff it down my throat that way? Which is exactly what she did, especially when she asked if there’d be a place where she could do her yoga. It’s beyond me. Not that I’m against, yoga, per se. Why would one be? But, really.’
‘Maybe it was the way she said it. A speech impediment can lead to…challenges.’
‘Challenges? She lisped, Mavis – that’s not a challenge, it can be adorable. She turned it into a weapon. I think she’s been to assertiveness training at some point, and didn’t know when to stop. I won’t have anyone lording it over me in my own home. Nor simpering around in corners, either. The young man from Yorkshire? Lovely facial bone structure, good hair and teeth – not an ounce of personality about him.’
Mavis dared, ‘You’re speaking of him as though he’s a horse, Althea. He was…perfectly pleasant.’
‘Had I been assessing him as a steed I’d have mentioned the lack of any spirit in his eyes, Mavis. Can you imagine having to face him every morning? We’d be slitting our wrists within a week. He spoke as though he were addressing a funeral. Of someone he hadn’t liked. Utterly depressing. But maybe not as bad as that chap from Wiltshire. Dear heavens, he’d have us taking cold baths then running around the garden before breakfast. Do we have a gym on the premises? What does he imagine a Dower House to be? I’m a dowager – which implies a certain gravity, if not age. Why on earth would he imagine we would have a gymnasium on the premises?’
‘There’d be a shed he could use for a bit of equipment, don’t you think? You have enough outbuildings scattered about the Estate.’
‘Don’t be so silly, Mavis. I know one couldn’t tell on the screen, but I dare say he has muscles that bulge and dance about…like that man used to do on Opportunity Knocks, or whatever it was. Call that entertainment? I don’t want someone here who’s going to bulge at me.’
Mavis tried again. ‘He looked as though he’d be able to take care of us. We’d sleep well, knowing he was in the house.’
‘We’d hear his knuckles dragging down the stairs, Mavis. I couldn’t bear to see him every day. Gym, indeed. Not that the last chap, from London, would have any idea that such a thing existed. I suppose he could at least sit on anyone who got in here who shouldn’t – squash them to death. Did you see the size of his head, Mavis? Well, you couldn’t have failed to. It filled the entire screen…along with his chins.’
Mavis conceded, ‘He was on the portly side, but he was young. It might be that working here he’d trim down a bit. You’d keep him busy enough.’
‘I’m not sure he’d fit in any of our vehicles to be able to drive me anywhere. I certainly wouldn’t want him in my Gilbern – he’d crack the axel.’
Mavis replied, ‘I think you’re being quite rude about his weight, Althea. Some folks struggle with it.’
‘I don’t think he struggles with it at all. Except to keep it where it is. As good as said so, when he told us how wonderful it was that we had a professional baker doing the cooking here – how he loves and knows his cakes. He’d eat me out of house and home.’
Mavis sighed. She knew she wasn’t going to win. ‘So – with none of the candidates that should fit the bill meeting your…personal standards, what do you suggest we do?’
‘I shall speak to Rachel myself. I don’t think you communicated well with her, Mavis. I need to explain to her exactly what I’m looking for.’
‘And what would that be?’
‘Someone who’s not haughty, or doleful, won’t bulge at me all the time, and has a moderate appetite. It’s not much to ask, is it?’
‘I dare say. So you’ll phone her on Monday?’
‘I’ll phone her now, Mavis. I must strike while the iron’s hot…while I still know my own mind.’
‘I don’t think you’re ever going to be in danger of not knowing your own mind, dear, nor of not speaking it, either.’
‘Well then it’s best I do that immediately, or I run the risk of forgetting all their names, and that’s not polite.’
‘I’ll leave you to that, then,’ said Mavis as she left the sitting room, thinking, If you’re going to insult someone, it’s only fair to use their correct name.
You can read more about Cathy Ace here.