MOONLIGHTERS - Lesley Frost, the Poet's Daughter

Part of discovering so-called forgotten writers and their books is that the discovery is actually more of a recovery. These books already exist and the people who wrote them may have been forgotten by the mystery reading public but often they are actually renowned. Witness Lesley Frost, whose only foray into adult mystery writing is Murder at Large. At the time of the book's publication she was known as a former employee of the Publisher's Association, an airplane factory worker during the summer and fall of 1918, and spent six months in the Hampshire Bookshop in Northampton, Massachusetts. All this according to an author bio sketch on the rear flap of the DJ for her first novel.  She also mentions that she opened her own bookstore in Pittsfield (also in Massachusetts) in 1924.  Her only book prior to the murder mystery was Come Christmas (1929), "a delightful anthology of Christmas songs, carols, poetry, prose and drama." But I don't think she was ever forgotten to many.  She was, after all, the eldest surviving child of America's renowned Poet Laureate, four time Pulitzer Prize winner for poetry, the one and only Robert Frost.

But let's get to this rather remarkable and utterly forgotten detective novel. Murder at Large (1932) is first and foremost noteworthy for it's eerie similarities to a novel that would not appear for another seven years, one that would dominate mysterydom as a rule breaking, seminal work. Often imitated but never surpassed that book is And Then There Were None (1939).  I was astounded by the similarities in Frost's archly satiric and sophisticated murder mystery which in addition to an innovative plot is chockful of literary allusions from Shakespeare to Kipling, from Euripedes to S. S. Van Dine. She seemed to have prophesied Christie's novel in a completely different fashion as the skeletal framework of Bristow & Manning's The Invisible Host (1930) seemed to prophesy Christie's story of ten murderers who escaped justice and are doomed to be executed while they struggle to survive on a remote island.

Though Frost's host is hardly an anonymous voice imparting doom from a record player there is nevertheless a Judge present in the story. He is, in fact, the host of a similar dinner party. Bertrand Whittaker plans to expose a group of murderers by publishing his private diary in which he details the identities of seven different criminals and the murders they got away with. Shortly after reading out a passage in which he embarrasses one guest by pointing out his connections to gangsters the lights go out and the diary is stolen. Only hours later, someone is found stabbed to death. But surprisingly it is not Judge Whittaker. It is one of the guests. That one murder sets in motion a decimation plot as one by one guests begin to vanish or turn up dead, all done in by an efficient and clever murderer who uses a variety of brutal methods.

Though these guests are not housebound they are on an island -- Long Island, NY to be specific. As the bodies are discovered all over the house and grounds the level of fear and paranoia is handled almost as deftly and frighteningly as the Grand Dame did herself in her own version of a now overused plot motif. Two of the women characters have intriguingly presented solo chapters in which we get to see their nervous breakdowns and the aftermath of dealing with the exposure of their crimes. One of the women spends much of the book regretting her crime (she shot her fiancé because he wouldn't marry her even though she was pregnant), reliving her past and dwelling on it all morbidly.  It's all very similar to the way Vera Claythorne is plagued with guilt over the boy she let drown. 

 
One difference in Frost's book is that the police are summoned and descend upon the house. As they sort out who killed three guests in one hour and try to prevent further deaths (they don't -- three more die and one escapes death through sheer luck by the book's finale) the amateur sleuth Ordway Belknap does his best to guide the seemingly inept policemen headed by Lt. Det. Silas Berry and Sgt. Stebbins to the truth. Belknap is another Philo Vance clone, one of many who pop up in mystery fiction throughout the 1930s when Vance was the dominating amateur sleuth in popular culture. Erudite, condescending and inappropriately flippant in the face of violent death we are told in the very first sentence that Belknap is himself a former judge. Well, actually an ex-magistrate. He and Whitakker have not only a history in and out of the courtrooms they have a couple of secrets that several of the accused murderers are trying to uncover.

Though it may come across as a nightmarish thriller Murder at Large really does turn out to be a detective novel. Some fair play clueing turns up in some cleverly done passages and the book ends with a requisite twist in the finale, one perhaps that may not be too difficult to figure out by diehard detective novel fans.  Still, Frost manages to pull off the finale with panache and sardonic wit. The ultimate similarity to And Then There Were None will be found in the final pages which just like Christie's book comes from the writing of the judge character.  It is uncanny how much this book has in common with Agatha Christie's masterpiece. While not exactly on the same par for there are a couple of histrionic scenes, some stilted dialogue, and hand-wringing melodrama from the more hysterical characters, Murder at Large ought to be read by anyone who considers oneself a devotee of the Golden Age. I think it ought to be recognized for being more of a forerunner to Christie's seminal mystery than all the attention lavished on The Invisible Host which only has the anonymous host's voice on the record and several bizarre murders in common.  It's possible that Agatha read both books and took bits and pieces from both to come up with her own inimitable version.

Lesley Frost Francis Ballantine (1899-1983) was the oldest daughter of Robert Frost. Of his five children Lesley lived the longest. After the publication of her Christmas anthology and this murder mystery she turned to writing children's books and often lectured on English literature. Among her children's books are Digging Down to China, Not Really, and Going on Two. In 1969 she also published a memoir entitled New Hampshire's Child: The Derry Journals of Lesley Frost.  During WW2 she was named head of the U.S. Information Library in Madrid and 20 years later founded a Spanish language and culture school in La Granja where she had a home.  Most interestingly, in 1952 she co-founded a third national political party, the American Women's Party, meant to get women elected into policy-making positions in federal government. That same year she married her second husband Joseph Ballantine who was involved in foreign affairs in Asia. With her first husband she had two daughters: Elinor Wilber, a Connecticut state representative, and Dr. Lesley Francis. Lesley Frost died in Fairfield, CT at the age of 82.

EASY TO FIND?  There are several POD editions of Murder at Large offered for sale online.  I cannot vouch for any of these copies, most seem to be from Create Space, Amazon's POD service. One has an anime style illustration on the cover (rolling my eyes).  Three US 1st editions are offered online and priced a bit high despite the book's scarcity.

The Case of the Missing Sandals - Nancy Barr Mavity

THE STORY:  James "Peter" Piper, bespectacled, lanky reporter "with an ugly face" working for the Herald somewhere in northern California, is allowed access to the murder scene at a religious cult's colony. The victim, the domineering cult leader who calls herself Luna, claimed to be a witch in league with Satan. She is found both stabbed and shot, her hands bound in a strange fashion with the cord taken from a green and red bathrobe. Even more peculiar is she is found barefoot.  Earlier the same day she was killed Piper had a brief interview with Luna related to an accusation of the theft of $10,000 from one of her followers, He had seen her striking black satin sandals and knows she would never be caught dead without them. And yet she was. What happened to the shoes?  And why was she both shot and stabbed?

THE CHARACTERS:  The first half of The Case of the Missing Sandals (1930) deals too heavily with Earl Vincent who wrote some love letters found on Luna's body. He is the prime suspect for the police and the fact that he fled California on a freighter further underscores his probable guilt.  Several chapters are devoted to finding Vincent. Piper and police pursue the freighter and try to intercept it with a tug boat but Captain Marquand refuses to stop for the tug radioing the police that they will have to wait for the freighter to pull into port in Los Angeles.  When the ship arrives and the crew depart they discover that Vincent has vanished from the ship.  After another protracted pursuit Piper tracks down the young man and forces him to tell an elaborate story that convinces Piper that the lovelorn boy, supposedly in love with the murdered cult leader, is innocent of the crime. The police, however, refuse to look further than Vincent.

Once Piper turns his attention on the Luna Colony, the book becomes interesting, less laden down with monologues and overwriting, and focuses on detective work. Piper uncovers multiple suspects each with their own peculiar motives. Among the more fascinating characters are:

Ruth Morgan - Earl Vincent's girlfriend who serves as a foil for Piper.  She is determined to clear her beau's name announcing she is willing to do anything to find the real murderer.  In a chapter well past the midpoint she and Piper engage in the requisite tabulation scene in which Piper reviews all suspects, their motives and opportunities while Ruth listens patiently sorting out the probable from the preposterous and often ending each summation with her verdict of "not proven."

Frances "Frank" Hodgson - of all the suspects Frank is the most unique.  She dresses in men's clothes, professes an obsessive love for Luna and is caught by Piper at the murder scene long after police have left searching for what she claims is a special perfume Luna used to make for her. Based on her frantic behavior and twitchy nerves Piper sees through her lies, immediately coaxes a confession from her. She is a drug addict looking for her fix. Turns out Luna was not only a cult leader but a drug dealer. The more we learn about Frank the more we discover that she is a lesbian. Mavity is never daring enough to come right out and use that term however, but couches it all in euphemism and baroque phrases: "But this woman was patently one of Nature's tragic misfits, a victim of the warping fate that had veered her life away from its normal channels." Mavity goes on to describe Piper's assessment of Frank's personality (who he insists on calling Frances though she prefers Frank) with great empathy and feeling. When he sees that Frank is using her left hand due to an injured right hand he starts to formulate a theory that she could have killed Luna. The murderer stabbed Luna in such a manner that reveals a left handed assailant. And still listening to her story and seeing how she left behind a vase of cut flowers for her crush Piper confesses he is "somewhat more sympathetic to the murderer than to the victim." It is a poignant sequence in the book -- one of many such sympathetic musings for a misfit suspect. Still as is often the case in early 20th century fiction Frank is yet another gay character painted as disturbed and doomed: "Just how far toward madness her jealous obsession might have carried her he could not guess."

Albert Jackson - the blind caretaker and gatekeeper at Luna Colony.  Jackson, a Black man, is no stereotype or comic figure, thankfully.  He has two dignified scenes of gravitas with Piper towards the end of the book during which he likens himself to Piper. Both manage to see the truth, he tells Piper, while others live in darkness. There are interesting contrasts between real faith and spirituality and the pursuit of false idols also mentioned in these scenes. Mavity manages to pull off these scenes with a sophisticated touch using simple language and metaphor, never resorting to heavy handed preaching. Albert is a finely drawn character, perhaps the wisest of all people Piper meets and interviews.

Charlie Russell - A young cult member sent to the Luna Colony by his mother to be cured of a so-called bewitchment she feels has cursed her boy. Piper knows this is all superstition for it is obvious that Charlie, in both physiognomy and behavior is mentally deficient. His facial feature are described in such a manner as to match those of children born with what was once called Down's syndrome, now known as trisomy 21. When some new details about the case are revealed Charlie becomes the new lead suspect in the eyes of the police.  Charlie's presence, yet another outlier in this myriad cast, allows for Piper once again to show his emotional side.

Carey - Apart from Mrs. Russell Carey is Charlie's only ally and protector.  Described by Piper as a colorless, bland man not much older than Charlie he is something of an enigma. He appears to be one of the "true believers" of the Luna Colony. Later he refers to himself as an occult researcher.

Oscar Miller - One of Luna's many lovers and the object of envy and jealousy among many of the male members of the Colony.  He is seen hiding something of great importance in the hole of a tree trunk.  Piper later retrieves this object and confronts Miller.  He also owns a rifle that matches the caliber of the bullet used.  In fact, many of the characters own rifles that could be the murder weapon.

Amos Perkins - a mystery man who hires Harrison, a hire-powered lawyer to represent Earl Vincent. A handwritten note is sent to Harrison asking that he prove Vincent is not guilty of the murder.  Enclosed with the note is $1000 in cash.

INNOVATIONS: When Mavity finally gets down to brass tacks after the Earl Vincent section is disposed of The Case of the Missing Sandals is truly an intriguing, complex and engrossing mystery novel.  Piper is very much in line with the many reporter sleuths of early 20th century detective fiction. Ostensibly passing himself off as a cynic he is, in fact, a humanitarian with an open mind and a skill at abstract, often wildly imaginative, thinking.  In the tabulation sequence Piper finally reveals to Ruth Morgan that he is convinced that the solution of the case lies not in factual analysis but to put oneself into the mindset of someone wholly devoted to the world of superstition. The murder is almost ritualistic what with the strangely colored cord used to bind the victim and the outrageous use of two murder methods to kill Luna. The placement of love letters on her breast after she was dead and -- most importantly -- the removal of her shoes both seem to underscore a kind of supernatural ritual, or a curse placed upon her. Ruth Morgan tries to accept  Piper's theory as a possibility but it all sounds too outlandish to her practical mind.

Of course, Piper is on the right track. For in the end it all really comes back to the title of the novel.  While perusing a non-fiction work called Witches Still Live -- an actual book by Theda Kenyon published in 1926 by Ives Washburn (see photo) -- Piper stumbles across the reason Luna's shoes were stolen. Armed with this arcane trivia and with the help of Andrews, his photographer colleague at the Herald, he sets a trap for the murderer in a well done, somewhat stunning, finale.

QUOTES: Piper: "The story isn't dead, even temporarily. [...] There are angles to it -- angles and angles. And while the other reporters are all enjoying the lull and concentrating on Vincent, I'll be out angling the angles -- a regular complete angler I'll be."

Piper: "When you try to figure [all these motives] together, its enough to make you dizzy. And as for proof-- say, if I saw one single little sold fact that didn't change its shape while I was looking at it, I'd faint from sheer amazement!" 

Jackson: "There's two kinds of darkness. There's them that walks in darkness because they can't see their way ahead, and there's them that have eyes and see not. It ain't your fault if it's still dark. You used your eyes as good as you could. That's how I know you're him that was sent. The spirit of darkness is on this place. The spirit of fear is on it. You can't see it, and you can't touch it, but you can feel it. Because you can feel the thing that can't be seen, you'll use your eyes to see when the light comes. That's why you were sent."

 Jackson: "Facts are dangerous things to throw around when you don't know the meaning of 'em."

THE AUTHOR:  Much to my surprise Nancy Barr Mavity (1890-1959) has an entire Wikipedia page devoted to her life and work as a journalist, novelist and author of non-fiction works.  I won't bother to repeat any of it here.  But I will draw your attention to her book Sister Aimee (1931) published one year after this novel was released by Doubleday Doran's Crime Club.  Sister Aimee was the first full biography on Aimee Semple McPherson and it's not too coincidental to draw comparison between that charismatic evangelist (possibly a criminal and fraud) to the power mad, exploitative and cruelly Satanic Luna who dies so horribly in this detective novel. Apparently many of Mavity's crime novels are based on true crime cases.  Further details on which cases inspired her novels can be found in an introduction written by Randal Brandt, research librarian and curator of a crime fiction library at UC/Berkeley, that appears in the Penzler American Mystery Classics reprint of The Tule Marsh Mystery, Mavity's debut novel as a detective fiction writer.

EASY TO FIND? Several copies of the US edition are  available for sale from a variety of online bookseller with prices ranging from  $14 for a reading copy to $48 for a VG copy.  There is one copy with a VG+ dust jacket priced at $425.  I found no UK editions for sale.  I did not look for copies in internet archives but there may be one out there. I have a copy of this book myself, but will not sell it as it is signed by the author and inscribed to her fellow California journalist Alma Whitaker. Took me a while to decipher the addressee’s last name, but that’s definitely the name. In the brief inscription Mavity calls Alma "Best of the Good Scouts", a term Piper also uses to describe his co-worker Andrews, the photographer. A photo of the smeared inscription is included in this post.

The Death Film - P. R. Shore

"Wonder of wonders! Miracle of miracles!"

This seems to be the year during which half of the books on my want list have turned up for sale. And of course I pounced upon all of them.  Of the final six books on a want list I have on various bookselling websites three turned up this year and I managed to buy two of them.  One of those books is The Death Film (1932), the astonishingly elusive second novel by "P. R. Shore", pseudonym of Helen Madeline Leys.  I forked over the most money I've ever paid for a single book but didn't think twice about it. Was it worth the hefty price tag? Read on, my friends.

Readers of this blog may recall back in 2011, the very first year I entered the world of vintage mystery and supernatural fiction reviewing, I wrote up a brief piece on The Bolt (1929) by P. R. Shore.  This was Leys' first attempt at a detective novel and it was one of the best I've read of its decade.  Seemingly formulaic being set in a quaint English village and focussing on the summer fete The Bolt actually pre-dates most of the well-known village mysteries including Murder at the Vicarage which introduced Jane Marple to the mystery world.  It truly is one of the more original and innovative detective novels of the era. From the bizarre murder weapon employed, an "elf bolt" (basically a prehistoric stone implement), to the unusual characters who act as amateur sleuths The Bolt is one of those books I was hoping some enterprising reprint house would reissue for an eager public. Though I tried to tempt Tom Schantz of Rue Morgue Press back when he and his wife were cranking out delightful reprints he apparently didn't think it was the kind of book for his audience. No reprint ever materialized.

And how does The Death Film measure up to that debut? Well, it's a 180 degree turn from the traditional English village mystery found in the pages of The Bolt.  What we get is a full-on police procedural with a methodically detailed investigation and a lead inspector helped by a savvy sergeant who likes to "theorize."  The story seems simple at first with two primary suspects but soon becomes ever complicated due to deceit and lies. Inspector William Gray and Sgt. Phillips have their hands full trying to sort out truth from cover-ups.  Largely thanks to the insights of a boy who works as a doorman at the Palace Cinema and a teashop owner with a remarkable memory the police are eventually put on the right track of a villain who was hiding in plain sight.

The Death Film of the title is a bizarre science fiction/crime film called The Death of the World. Released as a silent movie in this new era of cinematic sound it has impressively become the local cinema's hit, selling out regularly to large crowds, many of whom return for another viewing. One of the patrons never makes it out of the theater alive.  After the third screening Ethel Jones is found stabbed with one half of a scissors stuck in her. The police are fairly certain based on the wound in her right neck that she was stabbed from behind. Possibly someone seated next to her could've killed her. Audience members and employees are thoroughly questioned.

Gray soon learns that Miss Jones had an odd relationship with her employer Algernon Banks, a married businessman known to be too friendly with single women. She was invited to Banks' home on a few occasions to "finish up work" because the offices got cold late at night. Mrs. Banks suspects her husband of philandering. Smart lady. A few days later Banks' home is burglarized and Mrs. Banks is suspected of faking the break-in to cover up her snooping into her husband's private files which her kept locked at all times.

The other primary suspect is a musician who plays in the orchestra pit at the Palace Cinema. Ronald Mason is a multi-instrumentalist playing both piano and violin and primarily worked when silent movies were being shown. Ethel was attracted to Mason and we learn that she was pathologically jealous of all women who paid even the slightest attention to Mason.  Sgt. Phillips' first "theory" is that Mason and Pansy Stevens, a flirtatious cinema usher, colluded in a plot to kill Ethel Jones.

Then there is the odd box office worker Isobel Warren who raises suspicions due to her sly manner of answering Gray's questions and her many insinuations about the female staff at the Palace. But Isobel also seems to be one of Ronald Mason's many admirers and Gray is certain she is cleverly creating a smokescreen to shield the musician from being arrested. From her colleagues Gray and Phillips learn that Miss Warren was formerly a nurse prior to her job at the cinema.  Her medical knowledge inspires Sgt. Phillips to spin another one of his theories. The more Gray deals with Miss Warren I got some heavy-duty Irene Adler vibes.  She is so wily, so mocking of Gray's police techniques, that she seems to have been inspired by Holmes' memorable rival. In fact, at one point there is this exchange between Gray and Miss Warren:  

Gray: "My dear lady, I suspect everyone."
Isobel Warren: "Quite right. I deserved that, Mr. Holmes." 

Gray, unlike many of the fictional Transcendent Detectives of the early 20th century, is filled with self-doubt and curses himself on every other page. As he interviews suspects Leys allows us to know his thoughts (a bit clumsily rendered as dialogue) especially when he gets the answer he was expecting. This is also one of his flaws. Even though he chides Phillips for his many theories Gray is one of those cops who has his own theories and foolishly tries to fit the evidence to his ideas. Only when he gets the valuable eyewitness testimony from young Henry Bates, the Palace doorman, coupled with Margery Benson's amazing verbatim report of overheard conversations in her tea shop does he begin to learn that the truth is far more useful than any theories.

The Death Film unravels at a brisk pace with multiple surprises as the investigation continues. Ultimately, the plot involves one of my least favorite crime fiction motifs - drug smuggling - but getting to that final revelation makes for engaging, entertaining, and -- on occasion -- suspenseful reading.  Leys may not have been as innovative or witty as she was in The Bolt but her second foray into crime fiction has its moments not the least of which is the unique scene of the crime and the exploration of how an early 20th century British cinema operates.

Double Detection - Belton Cobb

THE STORY: Noel Ross, ex-police sergeant with Scotland Yard, has just ad an operation to remove shrapnel from his head. He and his wife take a vacation for him to recuperate. Ross is distracted and annoyed by his fellow guests at the White Cliffs Hotel on the South Coast of England. When Mr. Griggs, a supposedly amusing and witty man, is found unresponsive in his room the maid jumps to the conclusion that he is dead. A doctor is called who find that Griggs has suffered some sort of respiratory attack and luckily can revive him. Ross later meets Griggs who at first seems friendly and of a like mind. When the other guests show up in the lounge Griggs' humor surfaces. He turns out to be a British Don Rickles belittling and insulting everyone with his brand of nasty humor. Ross seeing that nearly everyone is appalled or enraged by the insults begins to think that the health issue of the previous evening was really a murder attempt. Then Griggs suffers another respiratory attack and dies. Ross is convinced that the murderer struck again and this time he succeeded.

INNOVATIONS: The most intriguing aspect of Double Detection (1945) is that there are two detectives trying to solve the murder.  But each approached the crime from a different angle. Basically, it is the intuitive detective vs. the evidentiary detective. Noel Ross at first surmises and imagines an attempted murder and insists the accidental death Griggs suffers the second night is an actual murder. Inspector Cheviot Burmann shows up at the hotel and Ross ever eager to show his brilliant police work immediately assumes Burmann is there to investigate the murder. He's not. He is acting in an undercover role to ferret out a cook who is involved in a clothing coupon racket. But with his cover instantly blown by the rash ex-copper Burmann is forced to re-think hi strategy. So he begins to investigate as if Griggs was murdered. Slowly the coupon racket case and Ross imaginings blend and when the post-mortem comes out Burmann learns that Griggs was in fact poisoned. 

Ross approaches the crime focusing on HOW it was accomplished.  There is a complicated business with beer bottles recalling the mix-up of cocktail glasess in The Poisoner's Mistake. I was never really clear what was going on with these beer bottles until a very lengthy description which pointed out that some of the guests, including Griggs, had their own stock of beer. The reson for this also involves a complicated revelation about who o actually owned the hotel.

Burmann derided for ignoring the howdunit of the crime by Ross prefers to seek out the WHY. He spends much of his time finding a legitimate motive other than sheer hatred that Ross harps on about. The coupon racket scheme comes into play for a while and Burmann is keen that Griggs death has something to do with cheating his partners out of profits. much to his surprise this sound motive will fall apart when the real culprit behind the coupon is arrested and clears several of the suspects.  once again, Burmann will have to lean in on Ross' ideas in order to solve Grigg's murder.

SUMMARY: Intricately plotted, mostly fair play, and often very funny this was the second detective novel I've read by Belton Cobb and I thought it almost as ingenious as The Poisoner's Mistake. I say mostly fair play due one deeply hidden clue amounting to a bit of minutiae in one character's past that was mentioned exactly once. I thought that bit almost unfair but it was there in the story. Can't really whine. Also one crucial bit of information that seems practically superfluous shows up late in the novel and proves to have a lot to do with the murderer's motive. Therefore, nearly everything in this story will be relevant if the reader wants to match wits with Cobb and his detective characters. I nailed the murderer early in the story due to a psychological quirk that I have come across in other modern detective novels. This unusual aspect, a bonus of sorts to the murderer's motivation, might have come as a shock to Cobb's audience when the book was first published.

QUOTES:  That, of course, thought Cheviot as he put down the receiver, was the worst of doctors: they could always quote to you the case of someone who died in 1776 in a peculiar way and thus had prevented all people who had since died normally from establishing a firm rule. [...] Damn the doctors, thought Cneviot, they always make things harder instead of easier!

 Ross:  "What you need to do now is trace [the poison] from that bathroom to the kitchen where the beer was kept. When you've done that, you'll know who could have taken it there, and you'll have finished the case."

Burmann: "I suppose that would be one way to do it. But it has never been my way to do Sherlock Holmes stuff with a magnifying glass, crawling about carpets. And I don't believe that in this case it would work, if I did it."

EASY TO FIND? Though no modern reprints of this title exist Double Detection is easy to find in the used book market, especially from online sellers.  It was reprinted by Cherry Tree Books around the late 1940s or early 1950s. But be warned:  sometimes those Cherry Tree Books are abridged. I turned up 16 copies, a mix of hardcover and paperback, in one simple search and many come with the typographic DJ. All but two copies are priced sanely and affordably. Happy hunting! 

The Snare of Circumstance - Edith E. Buckley

THE STORY  Elmer Bliss, reporter, is hired by a mysterious gentleman called Philander Summerfield to look into a recent Peter Somhers murder case that he believes was never solved. Bliss has been fascinated by the case because Somhers' nephew, Harrison Milbrath, was tried twice for the murder. In the first trial he was found guilty then he and his lawyer appealed due to an abundance of circumstantial evidence that should not have led to a guilty verdict. In Milbrath's second trial he is acquitted. Summerfield offers Bliss $20,000 to find the actual murderer. With such a sizeable reward Bliss is keen to turn detective and discover the real murderer of Peter Somhers.

THE CHARACTERS  In the second chapter Buckley introduces Murray Kilbourne, "by predilection a sleuth of no mean ability."  We learn he turned to criminal detection after leaving college. He inherited a fortune from an uncle and in order to claim that money the will had a proviso that Kilbourne was instructed to give up detective work and "devote his energies to the cultivation of his literary talents."  Kilbourne pops up at various points in the early portion of the novel,  but then leaves the country. To me his inclusion is utterly superfluous. Buckley makes it seem that Bliss and Kilbourne will be a team similar to Holmes and Watson, but Kilbourne is actually the worst kind of bogey character.  He serves absolutely no purpose. It was the only irritating part of the book.

Elmer Bliss is, in fact, the real sleuth and he proves to be far superior to Kilbourne who allows his libido to intrude and cloud his judgment in the detective work.  The real sleuthing team tuns out to be Bliss and Harrison Milbrath. The two join forces at the midpoint when Bliss uncovers a secret that Milbrath was hoping no one would learn. The revelation of this secret binds them in a friendship and strengthens Bliss's resolve to repair Harrison's reputation damaged after being found both guilty and not guilty of a single crime.  Together they are sure that once the "snare of circumstance" is finally lifted the young man will be able to carry on with his life both professionally and personally without shame or ignominy.

Philander Summerfield is indeed a mystery man making his first appearance in the first chapter and then vanishing for the remainder of the book. Or has he?  An elderly bearded man matching Summerfield's description and behavior is frequently seen around the Somhers estate by several witnesses that Bliss questions during his investigation.  Is Summerfield spying on Bliss?  Or is this a Summerfield look-alike?

Dolores "Dolly" McClure is the mystery "woman in white" (an obvious nod to Wilkie Collins) that BLiss follows for several days before he discovers who she really is. This young beauty stirs the hearts of all young men who meet her and is rather obviously involved with Harrison though it takes both Bliss and Kilbourne several days to figure this out. Her scenes are some of the strongest in the first half of the book when Buckley is setting up her intricate plot and layering multiple secrets and ambiguities into the story. She is willful, forthright, witty, a bit of a tease, and on the verge of heartbreak. When she learns that Bliss is intent on clearing Harrison's name she becomes one of his closest allies.

Chauncey McClure, Dolores' grandfather, lives nearby the Somhers estate and swears he has seen the ghost of Somhers wandering the grounds late at night. There are some very eerie sequences related to this eyewitness account.  Chauncey also provides a bit of gentle humor prior to his confession of ghost sighting.

Hutton, the station master for the local train depot, is one of Elmer's best sources. Hutton is a born gossip and a fine raconteur.  Elmer Bliss learns more than he ever hoped for from the many stories Hutton cannot help but share.  The most intriguing of his tales is the past history of Somhers building a wing onto his library, a retreat from noise, servant gossip and other intrusions and distractions.  Bliss believes there is also a hidden room (possible influence of Carolyn Wells?) somewhere within this building addition. Hutton also reveals he has seen an old man with a gray beard frequently visiting in town and that he arrives and departs on the train headed fro Boston. Bliss is sure this proves that Summerfield is indeed following him and keeping tabs on his investigation.

Jim Arms and Horsford seem to be the two primary antagonists. Each man lives on the Somhers estate and while Horsford, a caretaker of sorts, has a wife and daughter, Arms is a single man. Arms is the more villainous of the two men holding a grudge against Harrison for years and responsible for testimony that led to the first trial finding Harrison guilty. Bliss suspects that Horsford has secrets and knows more than he is willing to tell. Certainly Horsford's daughter has a piece of information that she is holding close and Bliss suspects she is protecting her father. Ultimately, Bliss will gain one of these men as an ally in an unexpected turn of events around the novel's midpoint. 

INFLUENCES  The Snare of Circumstance (1910) was published at a time when Conan Doyle and all his Holmesian tricks were still the primary influence of neophyte detective novelists. Buckley's novel is one of the finest examples from this nascent period of detective fiction in America. It's all the more remarkable for being her only detective novel and having received numerous rave reviews ranging from H. L. Mencken in the May 1910 issue of The Smart Set ("...well worth the money asked for it.") to the unsigned review in The New York Times March 19, 1910 ("...one of the few [detective novels] which...carries the reader without a hitch. The plot is...most ingeniously carried out. At no point can the reader guess the surprise finally sprung upon him.")  She has clearly drawn from several of the Holmes stories (alluded to by both reviewers, BTW) and in particular borrowed one iconic scene from The Hound of the Baskervilles where Holmes tries to prove a person's identity using a portrait painting. In Buckley's case it is not a painting but a photograph that proves the identification. Bliss does exactly what Holmes did:  he covers up a beard to leave only the eyes and face.

There is another novel that has major influence on the plot, too. Buckley mentions the book outright in the final chapter, but neither the title nor the author can be named, lest I giveaway the crème de la crème surprise.  Let me only remark that this influential novel held sway over several detective fiction and thriller writers from the 1930s through the 1960s who were keen on introducing psychological terror into their plots. Prior to this novel I had thought the earliest use of this familiar motif was in a book published in 1933. Always eyebrow raising to find yet another example and one so early in the 20th century. Buckley's may be, if not the first, one of the first American detective novels to employ this particular psychological plot motif.  For contemporary audiences in Buckley's day it must certainly have been a shocking finale.

THINGS I LEARNED  I was certain that the book took place around 1908 but automobiles are rarely encountered.  Instead there is a type of vehicle I'd never heard of. Bliss employs an early form of taxi called the herdic. As more and more herdics pop up in the story, I was starting to reassess the time as the late 1890s.  At one point there is a herdic chase and Bliss actually says, "Follow that cab!"  In any case, a herdic is a horse drawn taxi with side seats and a rear entrance. The vehicle is named for its inventor Peter Herdic who designed the carriage in 1881.  I found several photographs and drawings of them and chose the best example to include in this post.  There is an excellent history of the herdic and its Pennsylvanian inventor with several illustrations and photos here.

QUOTES Bliss:  "[Horsford] implied that there is a 'real ghost,' but it was to the atmosphere of mystery and danger that he referred. I dare say this man of yours has seen the ghost!"

McClure: "It is only recently that I have indulged in speculation of [unpopular thoughts], but I have had an experience that sent my thoughts in channels quite out of their usual run. Wild as the statement may sound to you, it is a fact that I, too, this summer, nearly two years after his death, have seen the spirit of my old friend, Peter Somhers!"

McClure: "But Mr. Bliss, the figure was not an illusion. Phantom or man it was real, and individual, and if it was not a 'materialization' some one on earth has a wish to give color to the sentiment against the place." 

Dolly: "You know what Tennyson says...? 'But a lie that is part a truth is a harder matter to fight.' That was the case with the testimony of Jim Arms; only the truthful part was so exceedingly small. Now that he has convicted Harry to a living death he is not content. He dares to sneer at him..."

EASY TO FIND?  Having been out of copyright for the past 16 years The Snare of Circumstance has been snatched up by the POD People. Several affordable paperback copies are available from a couple of print-on-demand outfits like Forgotten Books. I'm sure a copy has been uploaded to one of the many internet archives as well. Those seeking out the handsomely designed hardcover from Little, Brown & Company (shown throughout this post) with four original illustrations by Arthur E. Becher can pick from six different copies offered from online sellers. Prices range from $17 - $75 in various states of condition from reading copy to very good. I also found one Canadian edition, one of the better copies, priced at only $20. Happy hunting!

NEW STUFF: The Final Problem - Arturo Pérez-Reverte

There will always be Sherlock Holmes pastiches.  It is the one type of mystery novel homage that seems to be pouring out of an eternal fountain.  I tend to avoid them these days but The Final Problem (2026),  from the pen of inventive Spanish writer Arturo Pérez-Reverte, has an intriguing originality in that this is not only a Holmes homage but also an intricately devised meta-fictional tribute to the history and development of detective fiction and also a true love letter to the Golden Age of Cinema, specifically Hollywood studio produced movies of the 1930s -1950s.

The stand-in for Holmes in this well thought out and trickily plotted detective novel is an actor who clearly is meant to be Basil Rathbone. No attempt to hide his true identity is made even if Pérez-Reverte saddles him with the awful stage name of Hopalong Basil, a name Basil despises. His real first name is no better.  It's Ormond and only one person ever calls him that.  I think it happens twice. He's referred to by his last name hammering home the source of the character each time someone addresses him as Basil. Anyone who knows old movies and the life of Basil Rathbone will see through the disguise immediately regardless of the similarity in names.  Ormond Basil's biographical information as it slowly seeps into the storyline parallels Rathbone's life matching everything from his close friendships with David Niven and Errol Flynn to his failed marriages.

And so we have a meta-fictional mystery with Holmes being played by the actor most well known at the time of the book's setting (it's 1960, BTW) who reluctantly accepts the role of detective. Basil is among a group of international tourists marooned on a Greek island when a violent death occurs. They are waiting for a severe storm to subside so that the Corfu police can arrive by boat and take over the police investigation. Edith Mander, a British tourist, is found dead from an apparent suicide in a locked room.  But of course it's not. This is a detective novel. There is a murderer among the tourists and violent deaths will occur twice more (one in another locked and bolted room) before the police arrive. Basil takes on the Holmes mantle one more time with the aid of Paco Foxá, Spanish thriller writer -- another attempt at a disguise that is easily seen through as it is obvious this is meant to be Pérez-Reverte.

This book is overloaded with Holmes allusions and quotes.  Hardcore devotees and all the Baker Street Irregulars out there may find this a real romp, but the incessant quoting of lines from the Canon and allusions to the many movie adaptations Ormond Basil has appeared in were a distraction for me. An equal amount of references to Hollywood movies, both real and imagined, dozens of real Golden Age of Cinema actors and actresses as well as insights into the life of Basil Rathbone are strewn throughout the text.  The abundance of references seemed like padding by the midpoint of the book. After each lengthy interruption I was eager for a return to the unravelling of the many mysteries surrounding the death by hanging and the two bludgeoning murders that occur later.

Basil and Foxá are a good duo and enjoy the role playing so much that there begin to refer to each other as Holmes and Watson. However, the role playing gets to be as transparent as Ormond's true life inspiration when the talk turns to plot tricks and misdirection. An exchange between Basil and Foxá hints at the rule breaking trend in GAD mystery fiction of both the detective and the Watson turning out to be the murderer.  This was, I think,a huge mistake on Pérez-Reverte's part because it led me to scrutinize one of the two detectives' actions and I easily figured out the solution to one of the locked rooms. Without that mention I don't think I would have seen through it so easily. Astute readers may see that sequence of discovering the second locked room is an allusion to a well-known detective novel, oft imitated in the genre. Even the title of that work is mentioned off-hand at least once that I noted.

What is most unique about the narrative is Pérez-Reverte's devotion to the actual construction of a mystery novel. Not only is this a meta-fictional treatment of a detective story it is the only one I can recall in which the crimes are viewed as incidents in a novel. The solution itself is arrived at only by looking at the murders as if they were created by a writer of mystery fiction. This conceit makes the reader look rather closely at the actions of Foxá, a writer himself.  But don't expect an obvious twist there.  The real motive behind the murders is hidden very cleverly and while the focus seems to be on a cat-and-mouse game between Basil and Foxá, Pérez-Reverte has several tricks up his sleeve delivered in the finale that elicited a few gasps of surprise from this veteran reader of detective fiction. Timeworn motifs and plot gimmicks show up and I was too busy out-thinking Pérez-Reverte to see the obvious.  And, of course, the ultimate Holmes allusion arrives in the finale, one that should have been obvious from the start. I overlooked that one because of the constant references to Moriarty. I should have paid closer attention to Basil and his frequently quoted line "You see, Watson, but you do not observe."

Some of the best parts of the book are in the talks of writing and concocting mystery plots, comparing "real" crime with fictional crime and the role of the detective. Here are some of my favorite exchanges:

Foxá on the art of misdirection: "You have to cover the reader's ears when you show them something and then cover their eyes when you tell them something. Also, play with their capacity for misjudgement and forgetfulness. You have to plant an idea, hide it, and confuse the reader with things that lead them to a different idea..."

"Sherlock Holmes wouldn't be on television today for being famous; he would be famous for being on television." 

 Foxá persuading Basil to be their detective: "Look at it another way. Lacking a real detective and with all those films under your belt, you have more experience than any of us. It's less about a criminal investigation that simply acting as an authority figure. Something symbolic." 

Foxá: "...[the murderer is] working like a good novelist."
Basil: "That's exactly what he does: incite ideas, but arranges everything to as to impede us from thinking things though. That's why we cannot trust the visible clues. And he could be offering up real ones as well to make it seem less suspicious."

Basil: "One of the downsides of imagination is that is suggests too many alternatives and can cause one to follow false leads."

Basil: "Remember that we're inside a novel. [...] Who said that audacity and romance seem to have passed forever from the criminal world?"
Foxá: "You said it. Well, Sherlock Holmes said it. The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge?"
Basil: "Well, Sherlock Holmes, or Conan Doyle was mistaken. There are still some romantic killers left."  

The Final Problem is a meta-fictional tour de force. Whatever your obsession -- Sherlock Holmes, old Hollywood movies, actors and actresses, or the traditional detective novel formula with all its trickery and plot motifs -- this new treasure trove of a novel will not disappoint.  Just be prepared for an overload of allusions.  Is there a preventive drug like Dramamine for allusion overkill?  Pop one of those in mouth (figuratively, of course) before diving headlong into this richly detailed and truly fun book. 

The Lake House - John Rhode

Misanthropic George Potterne is found shot in his back at his solitary retreat, a one room cottage known as The Lake House (1946) a five minute walk from his main house on the estate known as Melcote Priory. The weapon employed is an antique dueling pistol, one of two from a recently purchased set.  The case with one pistol inside is found at the scene of the crime, while the other is missing. Later, the second pistol is retrieved from a man-made lake not far from the cottage after Supt. Jimmy Waghorn has the water drained by opening a dam.

Potterne's wife Sylvia, who will inherit the bulk of his estate, is missing.  She was supposedly sent to France due to a health issue. Or so Potterne has told everyone prior to his murder. Police locate Sylvia Potterne living under an assumed name in a hotel in northern England.  She has left her husband for another man and was planning to divorce Potterne. Her husband was too proud to revel the truth; his name and reputation are everything to him.  He only married Sylvia to have an heir, but she refused to have anything to do with bearing him a child.

The Lake House is a thoroughly engaging, intricately detailed mystery with an abundance of good police work and clever detection.  The characters in this particular Rhode novel are -- for a change -- surprisingly complicated and seem true to life rather than stemming from Rhode's usual menagerie on stock characters and stereotypes.  Sylvia, a former actress, may seem flighty and superficial but has a scene where she has an emotional breakdown that is all too real, not at all artificial or stage-like. Potterne's right hand man, Mr. Naseby is another well drawn supporting character.  An overly cheerful man who was hired to manage Potterne's finances, Naseby is extremely helpful in sorting a bit of a mess with two different wills his employer drew up.  As Waghorn and his policemen continue their investigations the superintendent is intrigued by what appears to be Naseby's infatuation with Sylvia, a woman for whom he wants true happiness. Could he have killed his employer in order for her to inherit?  This is only one of the unusual motives considered in a murder investigation that has several unusal elements.

Also worth mentioning are Mrs. Titchmarsh, Potterne's only living relative, who disapproved of her cousin's marriage.  She didn't' think he was husband or father material. She offers many opinions, is intelligent and a bit tart-tongued in her assessment of her cousin. Mrs. Titchmarsh gives Waghorn a fuller, more accurate picture of who George Potterne was and why he was so disliked by nearly everyone - not just his wife. And there is the mystery man referred to by Sylvia as "Doodles" for most of the novel and whose identity presents a minor puzzle for the police. When Waghorn finally locates this man, a used car dealer, he finds that Sylvia is passing herself a off as his wife.  "Doodles" is a horrible liar and Waghorn has a hell of a time trying to get the truth from him. Eventually he becomes the primary suspect with a horrible fate awaiting him.

Curt Evans in Masters of the "Humdrum" Mystery, his book length study of Rhode and other traditional detective novelists known for their purity of the form called The Lake House "bleak and mechanically complex." I would second that opinion. For a long time it seems as if Sylvia and "Doodles" are a doomed couple. But in the surprising finale Dr. Priestley and Harold Merefield, his loyal secretary (and son-in law, don't forget!) leave the staid Priestley manse and travel to the crime scene where the two stage a theatrical re-enactment of the murder presenting an alternative to what the jury's verdict in the climactic courtroom trial. It does, in fact, seem as if the novel with end with a happy ending. 

Harold pulls off an impressive piece of amateur acting in the role of the condemned man. Priestley, is also impressive in a literally death-defying performance as the victim. It's a theatrical scene, one not often found in any of Rhode's detective novels and made the entire reading experience of The Lake House more than worthwhile. The re-enactment succeeds tremendously and is the true highlight; ingenious in conception, entertaining and witty in culmination.

This is definitely in the Top 10 of the Dr. Priestley detective novels I've read. The story teeters on true tragedy while the investigation reveals the murder victim to be a cruel and sadistic man, obsessed with alchemy and antiques and collecting foreign stamps, indifferent to nearly all human beings. It's a fascinating, but grim study in abnormally obsessive behavior.  One can only sympathize with Sylvia as a victim of cruelty and we long for her happiness even if the man she has fallen in love with seems to be almost as hotheaded as Potterne.  Of course it is also the detective work which keeps the reader flipping the pages rapidly.  Waghorn, now a Superintendent at Scotland Yard, is determined to prove himself worthy of his new job title and position. He is admirable as both a leader and investigator,  In fact Waghorn is complimented three separate times by Priestley for his insight and intelligence.  The crime itself is a marvel of both cruelty and ingenuity.  Rhode is known for gizmos and gadgets and those readers who turn to the Dr. Priestley books for such old-fashioned detective novel gimmickry will not be disappointed. Notably, it's possible to arrive at the solution chapters before the re-enactment takes place in the penultimate chapter.

I was so happy to read a cracking good John Rhode mystery because my last attempt proved a bore. An Experiment in Crime (AKA Nothing But the Truth) began with an interesting concept, but the investigation of the crime was so dreary and repetitive that I couldn't finish it, closed the book, returned it to the CPL and didn't bother writing up a review.  The Lake House is absolutely NOT a bore. Most definitely worth seeking out. Luckily there are several copies out there (ranging from affordable to ridiculously pricey) in both the original UK edition and the US edition re-titled Secret of The Lake House. Currently, my copy is now for sale here. It's priced to sell. Happy Hunting! 

MOONLIGHTERS: Collin Brooks - Journalist, Broadcaster, Writer of "Shockers"

Reporters always seem to be the best crime fiction writers. Collin Brooks is one of better journalists turned detective novelists that I've encountered in my vast reading of the genre.  His first "shocker" (as he preferred to call them) Mr. X was published in 1927. He joins the ranks of fellow Brits and former reports B.L. Farjeon and Edgar Wallace along with a slew of Americans like Lawrence Blochman, Daniel Mainwaring (aka "Geoffrey Holmes"), Dorothy B Hughes, and Deloris Stanton Forbes. The tradition of journalists who become successful crime fiction writers has continued to the present day with a slew of them often topping best seller lists like Laura Lippman and Michael Connelly. The combination of discipline for deadlines and interview skills must come in very handy when plotting a crime novel. And of course many of these journalists were crime reporters giving them insight into the workings of police procedure and the court system.

Found Dead (1930) was Brooks' sixth crime novel, a true detective novel unlike many of his earlier thrillers and introduced Oswald Swete McTavish, punningly referred to as "Oh Sweet McTavish" throughout the story. McTavish has many similarities to early 20th century amateur detectives and yet both adheres to and defies all traditions of the typical fictional sleuth of the era. He is independently wealthy, has held a variety jobs, and is highly eccentric in manner and speech.  The front cover of my reprint edition likens him to Sherlock Holmes, but McTavish is far from the egocentric dispassionate icon of detective fiction. On the contrary, McTavish is immensely likeable, witty, warm and generous in spirit. He is not without his moments of arrogance but they are infrequent and often tinged with a ironic humor.  One of the most unique aspects of this book is that McTavish discovers his skill in sleuthing in the moment and it develops over the course of this first book.  He is not an established inquiry agent, he decides to become one and enlists the help of two witnesses to a crime as his colleagues.

The book opens with a young women fixing her broken suspender (a stocking garter for us Yankees) on a sidewalk.  Our narrator, Armistead (no first name given) freezes on the sidewalk just behind her to admire the young woman's leg and her provocative pose.  As Armistead is eyeing the woman McTavish comes rushing out of a building and collides with him.  Just then the woman screams and come rushing at the the two men recovering from their crash and she grips both of them crying out "A dead man!" As she was adjusting her garter she has seen a dead body through the window of the basement.  This all happens within the first chapter and the action is non-stop from then on.

Amy Renton, the young woman, eventually is hired to be McTavish's secretary in his instant decision to become a private detective and Armistead is enlisted as his Watson. Both of them will have fine moments to show off their innate talents at detection.  Both are intelligently drawn characters with keen insights and understanding of criminal motives. Interestingly, Brooks has Armistead take over at the climax of the novel and travel to Barfield, a small town in Yorkshire, where many of the puzzling mysteries will finally be explained. Armistead has about four chapters of adventures on his own in which he meets a variety of people who speak openly and frankly ranging from a cheerful and garrulous travelling salesman to a stock in trade gossipy hotel maid.  He also meets and befriends a tobacconist, a barmaid, a junior reporter at the town's local newspaper and finally Amy Renton's mother.

It is, however, McTavish who is the star of the novel. His physical appearance is most striking, especially his large head and unusual facial features consisting of high forehead, long nose and jutting chin leading to a weird comparison to Punch from the famed puppet show. Later we learn that Inspector Ipps enjoys a relaxing hobby of making puppets. Allusions to Punch and his trickster ways involving the hangman puppet in the Punch and Judy shows crop up often.

One of McTavish's many side hustles is writing detective novels. He has published a handful of them using the pen name "Alfred Bruce."  His books are often referred to over the course of the novel. At one point Amy decides to read one and is appalled at the lurid and gruesome nature of the story making her wonder about the turn nature of O. Swete McTavish.  McTavish loves to ruminate about a case while wearing a fez (his thinking cap or sorts) and puffing on a porcelain pipe. He pontificates on a variety of topics -- often in an odd stream of conscience -- and somehow makes it all seem relevant to the strange murder of the man found garrotted in the basement.

Much of the first half of the novel is spent trying to ID the corpse who had no identification on him nor any laundry marks on his clothes. McTavish, to the surprise of everyone, predicts a second murder and when it happens not far from his home the police begin to suspect the eccentric detective as masterminding all the crimes. Amy even begins to suspect him and voices her fears to Armistead in a scene where she lucidly and logically explains exactly how all evidence seems to indicate McTavish is the killer. Inspector Ipps of Scotland Yard in charge of the case is also on the trail of McTavish.  Could our affable detective hero actually be a cruel and sadistic villain?

Found Dead is a corker of a novel. From the bizarre murder weapon to the highly unusual motive for the murders this book is teeming with innovation and excellent writing. Brooks has created vibrant characters, sparkling, often witty, dialogue and filled the book with action and unusual settings. One of the most outre scenes takes place in a Turkish bath just before Armistead sets out for Barfield. At the bath he is approached by a man who seems to be following him. The dialogue exchange is sprinkled with sinister innuendoes and the two men clad only in towels and sweltering in a sauna begin to see each other as adversaries. The stranger even hints to Armistead that a sauna is an excellent setting for the perfect murder -- isolated location, limited exits, steam acting a fog to obscure one's vision. It's the creepiest set piece of the novel. 

photo by Howard Coster, 1935
Courtesy of National
Portrait Gallery website

THE AUTHOR:  William Collin Brooks (1893-1959) was born and raised in north of England. After brief early careers in accounting and as a commercial traveller he took to journalism. In 1913 he founded the Manchester Press Agency and two years later joined the British Army. After his service in World War 1 he wrote for various newspapers in Liverpool, Yorkshire and London ending up as editor at the Financial Times. In 1933 he began working for the Sunday Dispatch where he eventually became Editor.  Between 1927 and 1951 Brooks wrote about 14 novels a mix of thriller, horror and detective novels. He also used the pseudonym “Barnaby Brook” for nine mainstream novels, usually of a romantic nature. In addition to fiction Brooks wrote several non-fiction books covering everything from journalism to economics. He even published two volumes of poetry.  Eventually he became involved in radio broadcasting appearing regularly on Any Questions? and The Brain Trust for BBC Radio. Of his five children, his youngest daughter Vivian Collin Brooks (1922–2003) also became a crime fiction writer and published books under the pseudonym "Osmington Mills", the name taken from a coastal village in Dorset. 

THINGS I LEARNED: When McTavish learns that one of the suspects is named Pedro he describes the name as transpontine. I thought: "Does that mean between the bridges?"  I was close. The dictionary definition is "on or form the other side of a bridge". How on earth does that apply to a First names, you may wonder (as did I)? In the late 19th century transpontine was often used to denigrate melodramatic and sensational theatrical productions which were located on the other side of the Thames, hence the other side of the bridges. McTavish's bit of ambiguous dialogue runs: "He apparently rejoiced in the commonplace and transpontine name of Pedro. Half the faithful muleteers in popular melodrama are called Pedro." Context is not too clear here and I was forced to look up the word to figure out what seemed like two non sequiturs.

Another odd word crops up during the steam bath scene when Armistead calls the sinister gent valetudinarian after he remarks that it's not a good idea to sip water while in a hot room because of the possibility of getting a stomach cramp. (Never heard that one before!) The multi-syllabic word describes  a person who is anxious about their health. A pompous and antiquarian synonym for germophobe, I gather. 

QUOTES: Inspector Ipps on McTavish's stream of conscience style monologues: "You ought to have been a dutch-auction merchant or a camp meeting peanut seller. As a tracer of lost persons your verbal flow is wasted."

McTavish to Armistead: "...when I suggested that I was keen upon finding the murderer of that poor fellow you said that amateur detecting wouldn't work outside the pages of a seven-and-sixpenny thriller, because life is too sane and humdrum. And I replied that it is the novelist's fictional world which is sane and humdrum, because no novelist dares to suggest one tithe of the oddities of life or to use a first-rate coincidence for you. Well, here's a first rate coincidence for you!"

McTavish on his intuition: "I only guessed. I have medals and cups and shields and things for successful guessing. My two hobbies as a boy -- guessing and floating. The modern worship of athletics. The cult of strenuous life. When I wasn't guessing, I was floating. Sometimes as I floated I guessed whether if I turned over I'd be able to swim. Fortunately I never tried."

EASY TO FIND?  Of all of Collin Brooks’ crime novels Found Dead was apparently the most popular.  It was published in three separate editions between 1930 and 1950.  The 1950 hardcover reprint with pictorial covers (shown in the middle of this post) is still offered for sale and at affordable prices. I turned up about eight copies from various online sellers and I'm sure a copy or two may turn up in libraries in the UK, Australia or in used bookstores. It most definitely ought to be reprinted. Innovative, intelligent, and well plotted Found Dead is highly original on so many levels for a GAD book published in 1930.  Happy hunting! 

 

NEW STUFF: The Murder at World's End - Ross Montgomery

For the past two years I've seen an intriguing spike in modern writers trying their hand at a retro GAD-style locked room or impossible crime mystery novel.  I've read quite a few of them and mostly they tend to be less than gripping in plot, populated with tiresome formulaic characters, and prosaic in their solutions. Tom Mead, of course, seems to be the heir to John Dickson Carr's fame in mysterydom as master of the locked room mystery. Mead's novels are the exception and never cease to entertain and boggle my mind. Though I have to say I solved most of his last book The House at Devil's Neck, primarily because I read two books back to back that employed a similar masquerade plot device found in Mead's latest book. Now I discover a children's book author who has done his best to outdo the Great Carr and others like him in an often witty and baffling mystery called The Murder at World's End.

Even without the locked room plot element this mystery novel grabbed my attention for the setting and time period alone.  It is May 1910 and Viscount Conrad Stockingham-Welt, an eccentric aristocrat who fancies himself an amateur astronomer (though most of what he claims as his own work he stole from his aunt), has summoned his family to Tithe Hall on the eve of the reappearance of Halley's comet. He is certain that the comet will bring about devastation to Earth. He has ordered everyone to go to their rooms where they will all be sealed in as the comet passes overhead. The entire house is boarded up, all windows and doors are locked and sealed, and all rooms of course are likewise locked and sealed with cotton batting at all doorway bases. Even keyholes are sealed with wax. A perfect set-up for a classic lock room mystery recalling the room locked and sealed with gummed tape in He Wouldn't Kill Patience by John Dickson Carr.

Of course someone is discovered dead in the morning. It will come as no surprise that the murder victim is Lord Stockingham-Welt. The murder weapon seems to be a crossbow bolt. But how was it fired through a locked and sealed door?  (Shades of The Judas Window.) The crossbow usually is held in the gauntleted arms of a suit of armor that stands outside the Viscount's study but now the crossbow is missing.

 

Inspector Jarvis is soon called upon to interrogate the entire household. He sets his sights first on Stephen Pike, the newest addition to Tithe Hall's flock of servants. Stephen reluctantly admits to receiving this job straight out of Borstal where he was sent for committing murder. And so we have the perfect patsy for what appears to be a perfect crime.

Stephen is determined to clear his name.  Luckily, Decima Stockingham, the viscount's aunt, an 80ish invalid who cannot go anywhere without her wheelchair, is eager to clear Stephen's name as well. Together the two, along with the housemaid Temperance, team up to solve the mystery of who killed Lord Conrad.

Montgomery does a rather admirable job of concocting a baffling mystery and even comes up with multiple solutions. He throws in several red herrings, does a good job of leading us down the garden path thinking that one of the servants is very guilty of something if not the murder itself, and then delivers three or four well placed surprises. The biggest shock to me was the second murder victim. Rather a rule breaking bit of business for a traditional mystery novel, though I have encountered it a few time in genuine Golden Age mysteries. Still when this kind of rule breaking event happens it's always a shock.

I was most proud of Montgomery's not resorting to secret passages as an explanation for how the locked And sealed room was accessed. The characters do at one point make a thorough search of the house for such a hoary cliche. but when no such passage is found I was very happy. The final solution though not startlingly original was satisfying and -- most importantly -- fairly clued.  All the hints and references are presented early enough in the story to point the reader to the answer of who killed the viscount and how it was carried out.  If not gasp inducing at least the solution is presented in an entertaining, almost elegant fashion. It is a bit overdone in how Stephen and Decima split the reveal between themselves. Decima, an arrogant egotist, demands that she deliver the solution all on her own, but Stephen interrupts to get his portion of the detective work properly ascribed to himself.

Overall, I was impressed and entertained with this book. The background of Halley's comet and the doomsday mania that affected most of the world is inserted into the story with actual newspaper articles giving the story a valuable sense of verisimilitude. Montgomery plots well, has a savage sense of humor related to the dying British aristocracy, and the contrast between a very youthful servant and the aged woman he cares for is a welcome show of generational mixing that reveals both mutual respect and mutual loathing. Very real and often very funny. Should there be a sequel in the adventures of Decima Stockingham and Stephen Pike I would definitely read that book.