The Anatomy of a Murder Mystery
What does a murder mystery look like? Where should it begin and end? What should it contain?
Well, that’s been a favorite subject of debate among mystery writers and readers for as long as crime has appeared on the printed page.
In Agatha Christie’s The ABC Murders, there is a gloriously meta moment early on in which Hercule Poirot and Captain Hastings discuss what would constitute the perfect crime, in their opinion. Hastings proceeds to rattle off a whole string of well-worn tropes and archetypes, including a library crime scene, a curiously twisted dagger, a beautiful young woman who comes under suspicion, and a detective who seems to have no clue what’s going on.
“You have made there a very pretty resume of nearly all the detective stories that have ever been written,” a visibly disappointed Poirot says.
Christie seemed to enjoy inserting commentary on detective fiction as a genre in her works. Consider the words of the wise-but-ill-fated lawyer Mr. Treves in Towards Zero. Detective stories always begin in the wrong place, he says that is, they begin with the murder. The story truly begins with all the events that lead up to the murder: all the things slowly converging on the zero point.
I think we can agree on a few common aspects of a murder mystery, however.
In order for a mystery to be a murder mystery, there must be, of course, a murder or at least the semblance of murder. This means at least one body bearing the marks of foul play, or a crime scene showing that someone must have departed this life on that spot.
There must be a detective–either a police officer, a private investigator, or a person whose regular work doesn’t involve crime but who seems to have a knack for sleuthing.
And there must be a murderer: either a human hand at work, or perhaps even the forces of nature.
Beyond that, anything goes.
Let’s walk through the usual timeline in a conventional murder mystery.
First, there is the setup. We meet the detectives (amateur or professional) in their usual occupations, and we are also introduced to the world in which they live. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson are in the parlor at 221B, Poirot is in his perfectly symmetrical flat at Whitehaven Mansions, Jessica Fletcher is at her kitchen table in Cabot Cove, Mma Ramotswe is at her home in Gaborone or at the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency, and so on.
A cozy mystery will often begin with the business-owner-turned-sleuth tending to business at the bookshop, the cafe, the scrapbook shop, or the bakery. We may meet some of the regular customers and one or two newcomers, which may or may not include the future victim. A historical mystery usually includes some exposition on the place and time period, often with hints of current events and politics that may affect the action of the story.
The setup functions as a welcome mat for the reader, whether they are new to the book or series or are a returning reader. It basically says, “You are here.”
Not every mystery will start with this usual setup, of course. James Patterson’s First to Die begins with the first murder: the two soon-to-be victims, a newly married couple, are celebrating in their top-floor hotel suite just before a stranger arrives at the door with a bottle of champagne and a knife. The Clare Cosi coffeehouse mysteries by Cleo Coyle frequently begin with a prologue from the POV of the unidentified killer as they are scouting out their prospective victim, or even actually committing the murder.
Then there is the crime: the catalyst, to use the Save the Cat beat-sheet terminology. It usually occurs within the first few chapters. It may be heralded by the time-honored crash of a tea tray hitting a floor, a scream, and “Call the police!” The detective (if they are not the ones who discovered the body) and the police are summoned, and we are faced with the crime scene.
In most Sherlock Holmes stories, the crime usually has already happened before the story begins; a relative or associate of the victim comes seeking Holmes and Watson’s aid. In the Poirot stories, this tends to vary; sometimes Poirot is nearby when the murder occurs, while other times he is summoned afterward.
After the crime comes the investigation.
The investigation takes up the lion’s share of the book. It follows the detective (or detectives) as they chase down leads, examine evidence, sort out the plausible tips from the red herrings, and generally give the little grey cells a workout.
Who is the victim? Was the victim one of those sweet, saintly people who didn’t have an enemy in the world? Or was the victim so thoroughly unlikeable that the line of people waiting to dance on their grave will be halfway out the cemetery? (A fair number of Christie victims tend to fall into the latter category.) In most cases, of course, the victim is neither completely a saint or a sinner, but instead occupies that vast gray area along the spectrum of human morality.
How was the crime committed? Does it seem straightforward: found dead in an alley with a gunshot wound? Or is it one of those head-scratching locked-room cases where the crime and the murderer’s escape simply defy all logic?
Who are the suspects? Is there someone who seems especially happy that the victim was dead? Did someone quite literally have an axe to grind? Or is there a person who seems to be taking a little too keen of an interest in the crime scene?
The suspects, like the victims, often don’t fall neatly into the category of saint or sinner. (Even the killer may be found to have at least some redeeming qualities.)
It is also during the investigation stage that the reader may get some insights into the personal life of the detective and/or their sidekick: sorting out issues with their partners and/or children, dealing with career-related struggles, tending to their hobbies and interests, or perhaps dealing with medical issues that they may not have revealed to others.
At length, usually in the last couple of chapters, we come to the realization of who the villain is. This may happen when the detective has an a-ha moment while reviewing certain pieces of evidence, or when they get a text or email from someone saying “I just realized something, and you really need to look at…” Maybe the killer comes forward of their own accord, says “I’m tired of running, this is what happened,” and puts out their wrists for the handcuffs. (But this can be a little anticlimactic.)
Or perhaps the villain may reveal themselves in a mask drop: the detective is alone with them, having a conversation about the crime, and the seemingly innocuous supporting character says “Well done, and I congratulate you on your impressive bit of sleuthing, but you’ve made things very difficult for me.” In the latter situation, this is usually followed by the killer trying to add the detective to their list of victims.
Once the killer is in handcuffs, or being taken away in a body bag, there is the final explanation: the review of how the crime occurred and why. There’s a discussion of the motive, a recap of all the evidence, and a play-by-play discussion of the planning, the murder, and the coverup. (In most Poirot stories, the unmasking of the villain usually occurs as Poirot reveals all before the assembled cast of suspects.)
The last chapter is often a return to the setup. Holmes and Watson return to Baker Street, Poirot celebrates the satisfactory conclusion of a case with his compatriots, and life returns to normal at the cozy-mystery small business. In a harder-edged mystery, the protagonist may find themselves adjusting to a new (sometimes uncomfortable) normal as a result of the book’s events.
And so, the end–that is, until the next murder.
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Erin Roll is a freelance writer, editor, and proofreader. Her favorite genres to read are mystery, science fiction, and fantasy, and her TBR pile is likely to be visible on Google Maps. Before becoming an editor, Erin worked as a journalist and photographer, and she has won far too many awards from the New Jersey Press Association. Erin lives at the top floor of a haunted house in Montclair, NJ. She enjoys reading (of course), writing, hiking, kayaking, music, and video games.