Reconstructing a Victorian Murder Mystery by Thomas Morris

 

In November 1856 George Little, the chief cashier of Dublin’s Broadstone railway terminus, was found dead, lying in a pool of blood underneath his desk. The door was locked, apparently from the inside, and thousands of pounds in gold and silver had been left untouched on his desk. Was this a robbery gone wrong? A revenge killing? Or even suicide?

It was as perplexing a mystery as anybody could remember, and it led to the longest and most complex murder inquiry in the history of the Dublin Metropolitan Police. Over the next seven months, more than half a dozen suspects were interviewed and taken into custody before the detectives finally succeeded in pinning down the man they believed responsible for the senseless killing.

When I first came across a contemporary news report about this real-life murder mystery I knew straight away that I wanted to write a book about it. Both the immediate setting of a busy railway station, and the atmospheric surroundings of Victorian Dublin, were enticing. The crime itself was a genuine whodunit, and one that was not easily solved. There were twists worthy of an Agatha Christie novel, and dramatic sudden breakthroughs such as the recovery of a bundle of stolen money, just when the police investigation seemed to have ground to a halt. Then there was the surprise tip-off that led to the arrest of the prime suspect several months later, and a thrilling murder trial that gripped the nation. But perhaps the strangest episode in this tale is its unexpected epilogue, which features a scientist who believed that he could identify a murderer by analysing the shape of their skull.

The Dublin Railway Murder was a particularly lurid case in an era of sensational murders. No wonder, then, that every stage of the police investigation was followed eagerly by journalists on both sides of the Irish Sea. The detailed contemporary newspaper coverage provided me with invaluable source material, including verbatim accounts of the inquest and eventual trial. 

These articles also included colourful details: eyewitness reports of the discovery of the murder weapon, and first-hand descriptions of the significant characters and locations of this drama. I also came across a pamphlet written, and privately published, by somebody who had befriended the main suspect and made notes of their hours of conversations.

All this was more than enough raw material for a book. But then I paid a visit to the Irish national archives in Dublin, and made a discovery that transformed the whole story. In a dusty file, undisturbed for decades, lay hundreds of pages documenting the course of the police inquiry: transcripts of interviews with witnesses and suspects, letters between detectives and legal officials, and the minutes of confidential meetings. 

There were even surveillance reports filed by the undercover agents who were given the task of discreetly tailing various suspects around the city.

This new information was a goldmine. It gave a totally different perspective on the story, revealing details of the investigation that the police had deliberately kept secret. It made it possible to deduce the precise chronology of the investigation, working out who spoke to whom and when. And, crucially, it allowed me to reconstruct entire conversations using the actual words of the people concerned, so that we can hear the authentic voices of the labourers, domestic servants, clerks and railway engineers who helped the police with their inquiries.

I wanted to make The Dublin Railway Murder read like a crime novel, but almost everything in it is based closely on the historical record – not just what people said, but where they lived, what they did for a living, and how they spent their leisure hours. It was often these incidental details that were most fun to research: what shops there were in a specific street, the weather on a particular day, even the romantic history of one elderly judge. Of course it is impossible to be absolutely accurate, or to recover the unadulterated truth about such a story, particularly at a distance of more than a century and a half – but the exceptional nature of the source material offers what I believe to be a uniquely detailed portrait of a Victorian murder inquiry.

The Dublin Railway Murder by Thomas Morris (Harvill Secker) Out Now.

A thrilling and perplexing investigation of a true Victorian crime at a Dublin railway station. Dublin, November 1856: George Little, the chief cashier of the Broadstone railway terminus, is found dead, lying in a pool of blood beneath his desk. He has been savagely beaten, his head almost severed; there is no sign of a murder weapon, and the office door is locked, apparently from the inside. Thousands of pounds in gold and silver are left untouched at the scene of the crime. Augustus Guy, Ireland's most experienced detective, teams up with Dublin's leading lawyer to investigate the murder. But the mystery defies all explanation, and two celebrated sleuths sent by Scotland Yard soon return to London, baffled. Five suspects are arrested then released, with every step of the salacious case followed by the press, clamouring for answers. But then a local woman comes forward, claiming to know the murderer.... 

You can find more information on his website.  You can also follow him on Twitter @thomasngmorris

Olivia Kiernan on Strong Female Protagonists

I’m always slightly conflicted referring to my character, DCS Frankie Sheehan, as one who fits the trope of a ‘strong female character’. When I sat down to write Frankie, she presented as tough certainly and I knew she had resources of strength within her that I was surely lacking but ultimately I felt she reflected many of the traits I see in the women I know.

When I wrote my first novel, Too Close to Breathe, Ireland’s first female garda commissioner had just been appointed so it really wasn’t a reach, in any way, to give Frankie a high-ranking role within the gardaí and make her successful with it. The themes in Too Close to Breathecenter around power and control, our perception of victim and predator and what type of person fits those roles so, when writing Frankie, I wanted her to come at that case as both detective and woman but otherwise I sensed, rather than cynically devised, that she was resilient, respected, even if not always liked, in her role. She moved somewhat beyond the idea that her position, her approach or her behaviour might be unusual for a woman. Which of course it’s not. I worked as a chiropractor for years. It’s a physically demanding job but still I don’t recall a day I approached my work as a ‘female’. I approached it as I was trained and this is how I expect Frankie comes at her work. She’s a determined, skilled and dedicated detective who has her weakness, as all of us do.

When working a case, the investigation comes first, she is no more plagued with thoughts around domesticity than her male colleagues. And there are times when it could be said her commitment to work goes further than theirs, that when others fall back, she steps forward; always willing to see a case through to the bitter end, even if it means compromising some part of herself, be that her ethics or her safety. It’s one of the reasons she gets along so well with Baz (her partner), she recognizes some of the same desires in him. She is undoubtedly the toughest person on her team and I don’t mean this in the physical sense but in that she refuses to give up. If anything being a woman in the dark world she works gives her an extra edge, another lens to look through when it comes to understanding a case. She will experience (and does) sexism and judgments around her gender. There are characters who expect her to prove herself before they’ll take her seriously but Frankie is someone who steps over that. If another person wants to underestimate her ability because of her gender then more fool them, she’s certainly not going to deviate from her path because of their ignorance.

In The Killer In Mewe meet another strong female character in Commissioner Donna Hegarty. We soon see that gender doesn’t factor in Hegarty’s view either. There is no womanly kinship between her and Frankie in that way. There is, however, a silent reckoning going on when they first meet, an understanding that to get to where they are they’ve likely had to work harder than their male colleagues. With that feeling of professional respect they each recognize the threat in the other when it comes to getting what they want; Hegarty all about what she can achieve for herself, Frankie for the victims.

In the end, we all want to move away from some of the discourse around the ‘strong female protagonist’. Because it feels unfair that in order to be the hero the female character must possess traits that border on superhuman. That if you’ve written a ‘strong female character’ you’ve created some kind of mythical creature. I welcome the day when we can talk about our female characters as just ‘strong’ rather than speaking about that strength in relation to their gender or as if it was unusual. But I don’t think we’re quite there yet and in some ways we do need a way to announce them in fiction so for the moment I’d prefer to have Frankie stand out and be talked about as a ‘strong female character’ than not have the conversation at all.

 

We need to share stories where we can see women depicted in ways that showcase our strengths. Why do we love a strong female protagonist? Because they reflect the women we meet every day. I know several everyday heroes who happen to be female – why shouldn’t we see them in our novels.

The Killer in Me by Olivia Kiernan is published by Riverrun in hardback on 4th April, £18.99. This is the second instalment of the Dublin-set DCS Frankie Seehan series. 

Detective Chief Superintendent Frankie Sheehan does not wish to linger on the grisly scene before her eyes. Two mutilated corpses. In a church. In Clontarf. Her profiling background screams one fact: this is just the beginning of a sickening message.  Meanwhile, a 17-year-old case is playing out on a TV documentary, the convicted professing his innocence and historical police errors being exposed daily in the media. Frankie's superior, commissioner Donna Hegarty, makes no bones about who she expects to clean things up - both in terms of past mishandlings and the present murders.  But not everyone working the cases wants the truth to come out. And the corridors of power have their own vested interest. Soon Frankie pinpoints just what is making her so nervous: the fact that anyone could be the next victim when justice is the killer.

More information about the author can be found on her website.  She can also be found on Twitter @LivKiernan

Call for Papers: Girls, Girls, Girls!: Defining and Deconstructing ‘Domestic Noir’

Call for Papers: 

Girls, Girls, Girls!: Defining and Deconstructing ‘Domestic Noir’

Trinity College Dublin

Deadline for Submission: 1 May 2019

Contact email: domesticnoirTCD@gmail.com

A free-of-charge one-day symposium on domestic noir fiction, hosted by the School of English at Trinity College Dublin in association with the Trinity Long Room Hub, on Friday 23 August 2019.

In recent years, the ‘domestic noir’ genre has seen a surge in popularity, with bestsellers like Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl and A.J. Finn’s The Woman in the Window garnering critical acclaim and commercial success. These narratives of domestic suspense are the latest incarnations of a genre which has existed in various forms since the nineteenth century, from the ‘had I but known’ intrigue of the sensation novel to the mid-20th-century marriage thriller. These narratives invariably centre on the domestic sphere, with a particular focus on the lived experience of the women for whom these spaces may prove treacherous or psychologically stifling. Author Julia Crouch, the originator of the term ‘domestic noir’, defines it as fiction that “takes place primarily in homes and workplaces, concerns itself largely (but not exclusively) with the female experience, is based around relationships and takes as its base a broadly feminist view that the domestic sphere is a challenging and sometimes dangerous prospect for its inhabitants.” This symposium is the first of its kind, focusing exclusively on narratives which broadly fit these criteria.

We are delighted to have secured the author and originator of the term ‘domestic noir,’ Julia Crouch, as a keynote speaker for this event. Our second keynote speaker is Dr Bernice Murphy F.T.C.D. (Trinity College Dublin), world-renowned expert on popular literature. 

We are pleased to announce that we have in place an agreement with the peer-reviewed journal CLUES: A Journal of Detection to publish a special issue on domestic noir in Spring 2020 based on the best papers from this event.

We invite proposals to take part in informal 3-person panels where each contributor will present a 10-minute mini-paper on their topic, to be followed by a chaired group Q and A discussion. 

Papers may focus on, but are not limited to:

·     Early examples of ‘domestic noir’ fiction (e.g. sensation novels or mid-century marriage suspense thrillers which centre female experiences).

·     The complexity of the female characters who often populate the pages of these narratives - the deliberate ‘unlikability’ of some of these women

·     the relationship between reader and (female) victim or perpetrator.

·     Domestic suspense and class positioning.

·     The inversion of gothic imagery in the contemporary ‘domestic noir’ thriller –

·     violence or psychological breakdown in the supposedly safe confines of the pristine middle-class home.

·     The intimacy of the crimes these narratives typically focus on.

·     The popularity of the ‘girl’ novel, particularly among female readers.

·     Motherhood and ‘domestic noir’

·     The femme fatale and domestic noir

Abstracts (around 300 words) along with a short biography should be sent to Dr. Clare Clarke and Eva Burke at domesticnoirTCD@gamil.com by 1 May 2019.

Event website and booking: 

https://www.eventbrite.ie/myevent?eid=57269506636

We are pleased to announce that we will have 10 travel bursaries of €100 available for unfunded students or ECRs. Please include a short statement about your circumstances along with your proposal if you would like to be considered for one of these bursaries. (Bursaries will be provided after the event on production of vouched travel receipts)

Talking about Quirke with Benjamin Black

Benjamin Black is the pen name of Irish author John Banville.  He is the author of seven novels in the acclaimed Quirke series. He agreed to be interviewed for Shots.

What made you decide to write the Quirke series and where did the character of Quirke come from? What made you decide to make him a pathologist?

BB:  Many years ago I was commissioned to write a television mini-series set in 1950s Dublin. I did three one-hour episodes but, as with so many of these projects, they never got made. Then I began to read Georges Simenon, was greatly impressed, and had the idea of turning the screen series into a novel: the result was Christine Falls, the first Quirke book. Why did I make him a pathologist? I don’t really know. But I know I didn’t want to write about a detective.

Your latest Quirke novel is Even The Dead.  How did the storyline come about?

BB:  I start with a very vague notion of a plot and just begin to write. Often I have no idea where I shall end up--with Vengeance, for instance, I was almost at the end before I decided who the killer was. As Raymond Chandler said, it doesn't matter a damn what a book is about, all that counts is how it is written. He also said he didn't care who killed Professor Plumb with a lead pipe in the library, and I agree with that, too.

There is very much an elegiac tone to Even The Dead. Loose ends are being tied up. Is this the end of Quirke?

BB:  Not at all. It's true that every time I finish a BB book I think I won't do another one, but the characters are too interesting for me to let them go, and always I'm drawn back to them. In Even the Dead the most significant happening is Quirke's falling in love at last--and with a psychiatrist, at that. I hope he will be happy. We'll see.  

How much does religion specifically Catholicism play a part in your writing?

BB:  Well, I was brought up as a Catholic, which meant I was brainwashed from an early age. When I came to realise the pernicious influence that religion wields in human lives I became extremely angry. Some of that anger remains, so of course I transferred it to Quirke.

How important is place, in this case Dublin in your novels?

BB:  Extremely important. I think of Dublin, and specifically 1950s Dublin, as a central character in the Quirke books.

How would you explain Dublin to someone who has never been there?

BB:  I'm not sure that one could 'explain' something so intricate and diverse as a city. What I loved about the Dublin of my youth was its peculiar mixture of gaiety and melancholy; it's this ambiguous aspect of the place that I have tried to capture in the Quirke novels.

What made you decide to set the Quirke novels in the 1950s?

BB:  Since I was setting out to write noir fiction, 1950s Dublin seemed the ideal milieu: all

that repression, all that guilt, all those dark secrets deeply buried: perfect material. The Dublin of those days reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke and sadness. 

Raymond Chandler is my favourite crime writer and I very much enjoyed reading Black-Eyed Blonde. How much of an influence did Raymond Chandler have on your crime writing and are there any other crime writers that have influenced you?

BB:  I read Chandler as a teenager and was greatly impressed to discover that crime fiction could be stylish. Before Chandler I had read mainly Agatha Christie, whose lumpen prose made me feel I was chewing on sawdust. Chandler by comparison was the epitome of elegance, wit and sophistication. Much later I discovered Simenon, a true genius. And of course the great Richard Stark, whose Parker novels are superb.

Which five noir novels would you say are your favourites and why?

BB:  The Long Goodbye, Raymond Chandler. Not his best, perhaps, but certainly the darkest and most compelling.

Dirty Snow, Georges Simenon. This was the first Simenon I read, and I was utterly bowled over by it.

The Postman Always Rings Twice, James M. Cain. A compellingly nasty piece of work.

The Hunter, Richard Stark. The first of the Parker novels, and still one of the best. John Boorman made a wonderful movie from it, Point Blank.

How's the Pain? Pascal Garnier. Simenon's son, John Simenon, considers Garnier to be his father's literary heir, and he's right.

You have been writing fiction now for quite sometime both as Benjamin Black and also with your real name John Banville.  How much has your writing changed and do you have a different way of writing the Quirke series as opposed to when you are writing as John Banville?

BB:  Yes, they are two entirely different writers. Even their working methods are radically unalike--Banville writes with a fountain pen, Black types direct on to the screen. I always say that what you get from Banville is the result of deep concentration, while from Black you get pure spontaneity.

What do you think of the state of Irish crime writing at the moment? Including yourself there are a quite a number of excellent Irish writers that are writing really good books.

BB:  I haven't read enough contemporary crime fiction to comment.

Crime fiction especially contemporary crime fiction is said to be very good at social history. Is there anything you won’t write about?

BB:  Serial killers, rapists. Crime fiction, especially on television, exploits women dreadfully.

What one question would Benjamin Black like to ask John Banville and vice versa?

BB:  Do you like being Benjamin Black? Why?  I tolerate him. He keeps me busy.

There was a BBC series made of Quirke featuring Gabriel Byrne.  Are we likely to see anymore?

BB:  Well, I certainly hope so, but at present there is nothing in production.

What are you working on at the moment

BB:  A crime mystery set in Prague in the late 1500s.

Even the Dead by Benjamin Black

A suspicious death, a pregnant woman suddenly gone missing: Quirke's latest case leads him inexorably toward the dark machinations of an old foe.

Perhaps Quirke has been down among the dead too long. Lately the Irish pathologist has suffered hallucinations and blackouts, and he fears the cause is a brain tumor. A specialist diagnoses an old head injury caused by a savage beating; all that's needed, the doctor declares, is an extended rest. But Quirke, ever intent on finding his place among the living, is not about to retire.

One night during a June heat wave, a car crashes into a tree in central Dublin and bursts into flames. The police assume the driver's death was either an accident or a suicide, but Quirke's examination of the body leads him to believe otherwise. Then his daughter Phoebe gets a mysterious visit from an acquaintance: the woman, who admits to being pregnant, says she fears for her life, though she won't say why. When the woman later disappears, Phoebe asks her father for help, and Quirke in turn seeks the assistance of his old friend Inspector Hackett. Before long the two men find themselves untangling a twisted string of events that takes them deep into a shadowy world where one of the city's most powerful men uses the cover of politics and religion to make obscene profits.

More information about Benjamin Black and his work can be found on his website.

Interview ©Ayo Onatade/ Shots January 2016