Red Herrings & Raw Prawns: Why Misleading Clues Make the Best Crime Fiction
Every crime reader knows the thrill of being led astray. You’re convinced you’ve spotted the smoking gun, only to find out it was nothing but smoke. That’s the art of the red herring—a deliberate distraction planted by clever authors to keep you second-guessing until the very last chapter. In Mortice: Double Tap, A.J. Wilton serves up his own version of these narrative tricks, twisting expectations until you’re forced to wonder: who’s playing who?
And because Mort is an Aussie through and through, let’s not forget the cultural flavor. In Australia, to call something a “raw prawn” means to suggest someone’s being taken for a fool. Crime fiction thrives on serving up raw prawns—dodgy clues, false testimonies, shady alibis—that daring detectives (and readers) must chew through to find the truth.
Why Crime Fiction Needs Red Herrings
At its heart, crime fiction is a puzzle. But if the puzzle is too easy, the satisfaction vanishes. Red herrings are not just filler—they’re essential misdirections that:
Test reader perception. Readers pride themselves on spotting patterns. A good author feeds that instinct, then flips it on its head.
Create tension. Every false lead heightens suspense. If you’re wrong once, you start doubting yourself, and that doubt keeps pages turning.
Build character depth. When suspects behave strangely, are they guilty—or simply human? Red herrings add shades of grey.
This device goes back centuries. From Edgar Allan Poe’s The Murders in the Rue Morgue to Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None, misleading clues are the backbone of the genre .
The Psychology Behind False Leads
Red herrings work because they exploit how our brains naturally misfire. A few psychological quirks in play:
Confirmation Bias. Once you latch onto a suspect, you filter every clue to fit your theory . Authors play on this by dropping evidence that aligns with your hunch—until it crumbles.
Inattentional Blindness. Readers focus on the “obvious” clue and miss the subtle details that matter .
Cognitive Dissonance. When a suspect you like starts looking guilty, you resist believing it, opening the door for bigger shocks.
In Double Tap, Wilton exploits all three. Mort is constantly presented with half-truths: suspects with shady motives, conflicting witness accounts, and evidence that feels “too neat.” The reader is pulled into Mort’s own uncertainty, forced to question whether they’re chasing the real killer—or a raw prawn tossed in their path.
Mort’s World: The Raw Prawn Factor
Australian slang adds its own spice to Wilton’s crime scenes. “Don’t come the raw prawn with me” is more than a quip—it’s a warning against deception. Mort, as a no-nonsense investigator, has little patience for liars. Yet his cases demand he wrestle with deception constantly.
In Double Tap, red herrings range from:
Suspicious characters whose secrets mask unrelated crimes.
Conflicting alibis that collapse under scrutiny.
Physical evidence (like weapons or DNA) that point one way but hide another truth.
Each is a raw prawn moment—served up convincingly, then peeled back to reveal something far more dangerous beneath.
Classic Red Herrings in Crime History
Wilton stands in good company. Some of the best-loved crime fiction thrives on misdirection:
Arthur Conan Doyle often used disguises and swapped identities to lead Sherlock Holmes astray.
Agatha Christie famously made the most unlikely suspects guilty—sometimes the narrator, sometimes everyone.
Raymond Chandler embraced “false trails” so thoroughly that even film directors sometimes couldn’t untangle his plots.
These aren’t just tricks. They mirror real-life policing, where detectives must wade through misleading witness accounts, incomplete forensics, and deliberate lies before cracking a case .
Why Readers Love Being Fooled
Here’s the paradox: no one likes being tricked in real life, but in fiction, it’s delicious. Red herrings let readers experience:
The thrill of surprise. You were wrong—and it feels good.
The satisfaction of hindsight. Once the reveal comes, every clue clicks into place.
A sense of fairness. The best red herrings hide in plain sight. When you revisit the book, you see the truth was always there.
Wilton balances this beautifully. Mort doesn’t stumble into solutions—he works for them. The raw prawns aren’t cheap gimmicks; they’re layered in the narrative, testing Mort’s integrity as much as the reader’s instincts.
Lessons from Mort: Spotting the Raw Prawns
For readers (and aspiring writers), Mort’s methods offer a masterclass in cutting through noise:
Question easy answers. If a clue fits too perfectly, it’s probably bait.
Check character motives. People lie for reasons beyond murder—shame, pride, protection.
Look twice at the overlooked. The smallest detail often cracks the case.
Balance instinct with evidence. Mort listens to his gut but never stops checking the facts.
It’s a reminder: the best detectives aren’t those who rush to conclusions but those who can tell a raw prawn from the real deal.
Conclusion: Crime Fiction’s Sleight of Hand
Red herrings are the sleight of hand that makes crime fiction addictive. They don’t just mislead; they sharpen the reader’s senses, deepen the characters, and make the final revelation worth the wait. A.J. Wilton’s Mortice: Double Tap proves the point: in Mort’s world, every clue could be a raw prawn, but the truth always has a way of surfacing.
So next time you dive into a whodunit, enjoy the prawns—but keep your wits about you.
If you loved reading this, you’ll be hooked on the Mortice Series. Read the first chapter free today.
References
Knight, S. (2010). Crime Fiction since 1800: Detection, Death, Diversity. Palgrave Macmillan.
Nickerson, R. S. (1998). Confirmation Bias: A Ubiquitous Phenomenon in Many Guises. Review of General Psychology, 2(2), 175–220.
Simons, D. J., & Chabris, C. F. (1999). Gorillas in Our Midst: Sustained Inattentional Blindness. Perception, 28(9), 1059–1074.
Porter, L. E., & Warrender, C. (2009). A Multidisciplinary Approach to Interrogation: Police Interviews with Suspects in Britain and Australia. Psychiatry, Psychology and Law, 16(1), 151–165.