Small Towns, The Perfect Mystery Setting - by Judy L. Murray

“It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside.” Sherlock Holmes, The Adventure of the Copper Beeches by Arthur Conan Doyle

The English may think they have the corner on dangerous villages, but we prolific American writers also create lots of small-town settings that affect our characters’ lives and charm our readers. We know small towns make for perfect incidents of murrrr-der whether we choose the Chesapeake Bay, the Midwest, or the Colorado mountains.

Cabot Cove, the beloved hometown of Jessica Fletcher of Murder She Wrote, will always be one of the most famous mystery series locations, proving that cozies belong in villages. With boats in the harbor, a country doctor, and a small-time sheriff, Jessica’s travails became a genre theme. Over the years small towns as a location evolved into private jokes among authors. After all, how many murders can any one town handle?

What makes small towns the perfect cozy setting? Being from a small town in Pennsylvania, I think of local shops, teachers who taught generations, three-person sheriff departments, and two traffic lights. The anonymity a killer might count as an advantage in a big city is far less likely in a small town. Local killers have a harder time dreaming up alibis because everyone knows each other’s business, for good and for bad. If he’s new to the community, he’ll stand out like a red Maserati parked next to an old pickup truck.

Readers enjoy a small-town sense of community. They get emotionally involved with a book’s familiar cast of characters, even the annoying ones. Parks, shops, and libraries where characters meet to discuss the latest news are endearing. It adds to the shock and concern of a murder just discovered. Who did it? Why? Is the killer one of us? Gossip and accusations fly. Townspeople are less likely to set bad news aside and continue their lives untouched. Some will circle the wagons. Some will spill the beans. Someone decides to do some sleuthing.

The bakery, the church, and the hardware store all form an even smaller microcosm within the town setting. It’s here where co-workers become family even when not related. They are dependable and close-knit. They either welcome a newcomer or regard the newcomer with suspicion.

A crime in a small village provides a different element of fear, unlike a crime in a big city of strangers. The person killed isn’t a stranger. They know the victim personally. And the killer is highly likely to be someone they know. Secrets are closely guarded and loyalties are long, even when misguided. The town buzz is fodder for useless clues and valuable insight.

Amateur sleuths in small towns tend to nosey into solving crimes and step on the law’s toes. They’re good at talking among the locals to flush out clues. The small police force with limited resources may initially discount our sleuths’ abilities but grudgingly come around to their intrusions and deductions.

Although we might joke about the frequency of small-town crimes like in Cabot Cove, as readers we’re perfectly happy to set those doubts aside. We fall in love with the odd mix of characters. We stay up at night turning pages while we sort through the drama, the danger, the clues and the missteps. We hope we can ferret out the killer before the sleuth. Much like the all-too-famous line about Vegas, what happens in small towns stays in small towns. Until the next dead body. And that’s part of the fun.