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There is something both romantic and mysterious about the dockside. One conjures up images of huge ocean liners about to depart for exotic ports. In an age of jet planes and travel long distances in hours instead of days, the more leisurely travel by steamer holds a romantic appeal. There is something strange and exotic about the dockside itself. Special equipment for loading cargo. Coils of rope. Mysterious boxes and crates ready to be loaded. The unique sounds of the dock: horns, bells, and orders being called out to crewmen on board, cries from longshoremen. The sounds of hoists and cranes in action.
If there is a murder it must take place after sunset with dark shadows and indistinct figures looming in corners adding to the sense of mystery. And of course the final touch: light rain. With lights reflecting in puddles of water and off the surfaces of objects piled along the dock. And clandestine figures moving surreptitiously. Indistinct shapes of people in rain coats clutching their lapels to keep the rain off their necks; rain dripping off the brim of a soggy fedora. Now that’s a scene.
