Murder Takes a Vacation

“His kindness was the type of kindness shown to an incompetent. She wished it was something more.”

Attracting the eye of a handsome man on her transatlantic flight, Mrs. Blossom feels a spark of desire for the first time in decades. However, Allan’s chivalrousness, while gratifying, seems pitying rather than romantic, disappointing her hopes for a possible affair. Allan’s underestimation of Mrs. Blossom both fuels the novel’s plot and introduces the theme of The Power of Subverting Expectations.

“‘But no one ever notices me,’ she said. ‘That’s why I was such a good private detective.’”

Unexpectedly, Mrs. Blossom reveals to Allan her background as a private investigator, or at least, an assistant to one. Later events hint that Allan was drawn to Mrs. Blossom precisely because of her nondescript qualities, which made her an ideal “mule” to smuggle his stolen sapphires through customs. However, this very “invisibility,” joined with her experience in crime detection, later helps her catch the plotters off guard, illustrating the power of subverting expectations.

“She tipped the salmon-colored gummies into the false bottom of her pill case, where they provided a beautiful background for her diamonds, pink courtiers to the shiny perfect couple, which is what everyone believed Mr. and Mrs. Blossom to be, possibly even Mr. Blossom.”

On a whim, Mrs. Blossom hides the gummies Allan gave her in a secret compartment, a random action that proves crucial to the plot. Simultaneously, the implication that her marriage was not the “shiny perfect” one that others (possibly including her late husband) believed it to be creates suspense and augurs the later revelation of her unfaithfulness. This sentence also illustrates Mrs. Blossom’s natural affinity for bright colors, a character trait that will prove important.

“Then, a week or so later, she read in the paper that a Triple Twist ticket sold at that particular Circle K was worth $8.75 million.”

Mrs. Blossom gains financial independence when she finds a winning lottery ticket in a parking lot. This stroke of luck explains how an unassuming woman like herself, with a very modest background, was able to afford the luxury cruise that becomes the nucleus of the novel’s action. It also explains some of the social awkwardness she feels while traveling among the rich, since she does not share their privileged background and long experience of luxury.

“That is, everyone turned to look except one man, seated at the short counter, his face buried in a copy of Le Monde, the warm bistro light burnishing his very stylish tortoiseshell-and-gold glasses, the subtle plaid of his suit distinctive even among the fashionable types gathered here. […] It was the man from the train.”

Unused to gourmet food, Mrs. Blossom gasps with surprise at the taste of an amuse-bouche, attracting attention. One diner, however, draws her notice by not looking up, and her sharp eye for fashion and color identifies him as the man who stared at her on the Chunnel train. This passage, with its specific detail, establishes both Mrs. Blossom’s keen eye and her attention to fashion, both of which will serve her in the upcoming investigation.

“It was a nonsmoking room and he stepped out on the—I believe you would call it a Juliet balcony—to enjoy a cigar and a little brandy. And he just went…over.”

The plot thickens with the news of Allan’s fatal fall from a balcony, which, in a mystery novel, is unlikely to be an accident. Mrs. Blossom’s intelligence and eye for detail are emphasized when the detail about the “cigar” rings false to her as she reflects that Allan’s kisses did not taste like those of a smoker. That Allan fell from a “Juliet balcony” implies a mordant joke about Mrs. Blossom’s star-crossed romantic life: Both her husband and potential lover have now succumbed to an “untimely death” (Romeo and Juliet, I.IV).

“The police officer held out his screen. It was her selfie, taken on the train. Beneath it was her name, the hotel’s address, and a short message: A very nice lady, she has your eyes.”

The late Allan, it seems, texted to an unknown party Mrs. Blossom’s photo, name, and the address of her hotel. To a clear head, this would be ominous, even frightening, but the lonely Mrs. Blossom seems determined to see it as romantic; after all, his message praises her and talks about her eyes, which she knows to be among her best features. Later, she realizes, in a blinding flash, that the message is code, and that “eyes” refers to the stolen sapphires.

“The seven slots on the top of her pillbox stood open in full salute, the pills undisturbed. She checked on her diamond earrings: they were safe in their secret compartment.”

The “methodical” search of Mrs. Blossom’s room by unknown parties removes any doubt that she’s at the center of a mysterious, and perhaps murderous, plot. She begins to suspect that Allan planted something valuable on her or in her luggage—or at least that the plotters believe this to be so. With Mrs. Blossom’s attention to her diamond earrings, a prized possession from Harold, the narrative establishes her strong connection to the past.

“Throughout all those years, from first grade until now, Elinor had always been what used to be called boy crazy, making two ill-considered marriages in a row. She had finally found the love of her life at sixty only to lose him to cancer two years ago.”

Elinor, Mrs. Blossom’s childhood friend, is in many ways her opposite: slender, petite, gregarious, and (perhaps too) adventurous in her approach to life and love. She acts as a foil for the protagonist, but they share similarities revealed throughout the novel: Like Mrs. Blossom, she lost the “love of her life” earlier than expected and must now grapple with widowhood, when her libido is still strong. Their shared lot as single women still in their sixties, and the challenges of pursuing romance at their age, bring them closer, especially as Mrs. Blossom discovers that Elinor, in turn, has envied her life.

“Then, when Mrs. Blossom didn’t think her stomach could drop any further, a third man arrived. […] Danny.”

Expertly shadowing the fake bellhop who tried to commandeer her luggage, Mrs. Blossom eavesdrops on his meeting with two other men, showcasing her investigative skills and establishing her as an amateur detective. One of them she recognizes as the man who aggressively pursued her through the streets of Paris, and the other is Danny, the supposed “stylist” who smoothly befriended her on her first day in the city. Knowing now that Danny is not what he claims and has some connection to the ransacking of her hotel room, Mrs. Blossom begins to feel “paranoid” about her every interaction with him. With Lippman’s reference to Danny as “a third man,” she draws another connection to the detective noir genre and the famous noir novel, The Third Man, by Graham Greene.

“The statue is a Quqnoz—very much like a phoenix, a mythical bird that rises from the ashes.”

The stolen artwork that serves as the story’s McGuffin is a jewel-encrusted statue of a bird, not unlike the title object in the iconic mystery novel and film The Maltese Falcon, an allusion made explicit by Elinor on Page 105. Constance Saylor, who plotted the statue’s theft, later compares the mythical Quqnoz’s phoenix-like rebirth to her faked death and resurrection as Patience Siemen. More significantly, the Quqnoz serves as a metaphor for Mrs. Blossom’s rebirth as a stronger, more confident person by the novel’s end.

“Danny seemed genuinely panic-stricken. ‘No, no—that was not me.’”

Hearing about the “thorough” search of Mrs. Blossom’s hotel room, Danny denies any involvement and seems to be telling the truth: Losing his cool for the first time, he reacts with “panic” instead of with a wisecrack, giving his declaration the ring of authenticity. The revelation that the FBI was not behind the search ratchets up the story’s tension, since it suggests a criminal element is on Mrs. Blossom’s trail, perhaps the people who murdered Allan.

“Those eyes were focused on Elinor almost from the moment he sat down. Oh dear, how had Mrs. Blossom not considered this? Elinor was so pretty and delicate; men had always been drawn to her.”

On the cruise ship, a dapper charmer named Marko joins the group for dinner. His eyes settle on Elinor, and Mrs. Blossom evinces the jealousy she’s always felt for her friend. When she invited Elinor on the cruise, she had “not considered” that her friend might use it as an opportunity to pick up men, leaving her lonely. However, as later events reveal, Marko’s attentions to Elinor are more predatory than romantic, and (ironically) are centered on Mrs. Blossom herself.

“Mrs. Blossom was not used to having things that others coveted, especially not a woman such as this, whose clothing and jewelry implied real wealth, to-the-manor-born wealth.”

Mrs. Blossom, with her lottery winnings and modest Baltimore upbringing, feels like an impostor on the cruise and falls under the spell of Pat Siemen, who was raised in wealth and knows luxury. To her, Pat radiates sophistication, urbanity, and grace, and is slim and attractive to boot—she is everything Mrs. Blossom aspires to be. By contrast, Mrs. Blossom misquotes, in her thoughts, Shakespeare’s phrase “to the manner born,” highlighting the gap between them. Later, her elegant looks are revealed to be an illusion, the product of plastic surgery and a brutal diet.

“Tess, a man was killed. Someone searched my room, someone tried to steal my purse today, and someone has put a GPS tracker in my purse. Surely, something important is at stake here.”

On the phone with her friend Tess, Mrs. Blossom gives a rundown of the strange events on her Parisian vacation. Unlike many of the other characters, Tess doesn’t underestimate Mrs. Blossom, and they hold a conversation that reveals what makes the protagonist a good investigator. Despite these warning signs, as usual in the “cozy mystery” genre, the protagonist hesitates to get the police involved, which would interfere with her solving the mystery herself.

“She said there was a passenger who had left the DO NOT DISTURB placard on their door for more than a day and the staff finally decided to check, found someone in great distress.”

Mrs. Blossom notices something “amiss,” and Pat tells her that a passenger has been taken away in an ambulance. The narrative implies that this unnamed passenger might be Paul, an attractive man with whom Mrs. Blossom has exchanged flirtations, and his illness presents a setback in her character’s personal journey toward independence and freedom. This development also ramps up the story’s tension with the dark suggestion that Paul or Danny may have been injured by the shadowy figures who have been tailing Mrs. Blossom.

“Her things had been searched yet again, but whoever had done it had gotten confused and put Elinor’s earrings away in the wrong place. This time, she wasn’t supposed to know that anyone had been there.”

Mrs. Blossom discovers that her stateroom, like her hotel room in Paris, has been thoroughly searched in her absence. For the first time, she has solid proof that the plotters are on the ship with her and may even be one or more of the passengers she has socialized with: The meticulous nature of the search suggests that whoever did it knew that she and Elinor would be away from their room for a while. This passage, however, also highlights Mrs. Blossom’s keen eye, which spots the minute differences, alerting her to the search and establishing her as a competent detective.

“Pat Siemen suddenly shrieked. […] ‘That’s the man! That’s the man I saw in my room. He thought I was sleeping and I pretended to be because I was so scared. He took my ring from my nightstand.’”

Mrs. Blossom’s experiment with the GPS tracker—slipping it into Pat Siemen’s purse—reaps unexpected results when Danny, presumably looking for her, ducks into Pat’s room, alarming the napping woman. Pat’s public accusation that Danny stole her ring casts a new pall of suspicion over his ambiguous character. For the first time, it looks as if his shifting stories about his background may finally be subjected to the scrutiny of an official investigation.

“The door swung open. There was Pat’s ring, the large pear-shaped pink gem. There was also a large stack of colorful bills—not Euros, not similar-looking. […] And a statue. The prettiest little bird, carved from a marble more gray than white.”

Defiantly, Danny permits the cruise staff to search his room and even provides his birth date so they can try it as a combination for his safe. This twist makes Danny look guilty but also raises further questions, such as why Danny (if culpable) would consent to the search of his room, and why he remained on board when he already had possession of the priceless statue. The passage’s dramatic opening (“[t]he door swung open”) leads to a listing that culminates in the underwhelming description of the artifact that has been the catalyst for the mystery.

“So, no, not money, not love. What was this itch she felt, what was keeping her from being contented? What would give her life meaning?”

Mrs. Blossom probes her feelings of discontent, sensing that money cannot buy happiness and that the consolations of love are all too capricious and fraught with heartbreak and betrayal. Her quest for fulfillment and freedom is at the heart of her journey, which is really about the directionlessness that has troubled her since the death of her husband.

“‘Here you go,’ she said, holding the box up—and then, with a flick of the wrist, she poured its entire contents over the side, two shining white lights in a shower of pink.”

To save her friend, Mrs. Blossom sacrifices her prized possessions—the diamond earrings given to her by her husband—to get the upper hand over the two thieves who are threatening to kill Elinor. This simple, almost instinctual action is symbolic of Mrs. Blossom’s prioritizing of friendship over material riches and the grip of the past; by the novel’s end, she comes to see friendship as the greatest treasure, the one irreplaceable wealth that gives meaning to life.

“But she was, as Pat had prophesied, the main character in her own life. And that felt pretty good.”

Having lived most of her life in the shadows of others (her relatives, her friends, more conventionally attractive women), Mrs. Blossom has finally acted with daring and forged her own destiny by outwitting and overpowering the two criminals who were threatening her and Elinor’s lives. Ironically, it was one of these same criminals (Pat Siemen) who earlier advised her to stop thinking of herself as a “sidekick.” Her declaration that she is “the main character in her own life” brings her character arc to completion.

“‘Constance Saylor’s handyman, Daniyal Hassan, was my father.’ […] It was as if a dozen different vectors in Mrs. Blossom’s brain suddenly lit up and showed how everything was connected. Tess’s text. The fire. Danny and the statue.”

Danny reveals his personal stake in the intrigue surrounding the Quqnoz statue, as it was his father who originally stole it from the museum—and was then betrayed and murdered by another conspirator, probably Marko. In Mrs. Blossom’s mind, the many threads of the mystery finally come together. The narrative emphasizes the instantaneous nature of her revelation through the imagery of “vectors” lighting up, which also highlights her investigative intelligence.