MOONLIGHTERS: W. Stanley Sykes, Anesthesiologist Obsessed with Crime

There are mystery writers whose work in their primary field is far more interesting than their dabbling in genre fiction. Then there are those who dabbled whose work is so strong on plotting, character and imaginative use of detective novel motifs they should have kept on writing books for decades. Such is the case of William Stanley Sykes, an anesthesiologist (or anesthetist as they say in the UK) who was a pioneer in his field. His monumental Essays on the First Hundred Years of Anaesthesia, a three volume work, is still held in high regard, mostly for his painstakingly researched history and the evolution and development of treatment methods. But his interest in criminology, ingenious murder methods and the exacting nature of police work in the pre-WW 2 era resulted in only three novels and three solve-them-yourself mysteries. It's a shame we have no more than that small output from him. He had a real flair for the genre.

His first novel The Missing Moneylender (1931) was published with the prosaically dull title The Man Who Was Dead in the US. Of his three novels this is the most easily obtainable title for it was reprinted several times by Penguin in paperback editions. ...Moneylender has been reviewed favorably by TomCat at Beneath the Stains of Time and Ron at Vintage Pop Fiction and is examined in a highly opinionated, post-modern approach that is completely ignorant of detective fiction conventions at A Penguin a Week. His second The Harness of Death (1932) is the focus here. It's the only Sykes mystery novel I own and one of two remaining works not reviewed anywhere in the blogosphere.

Unlike his debut mystery novel Sykes decided to make The Harness of Death an inverted mystery novel. The first chapter we watch a blackmail scheme go terribly wrong. The victim Edgar Marston turns on his tormentor, the snide and weasely owner of Reinhold Metal Works and foundry. Even though the blackmailer is holding his victim at bay with a revolver Marston manages to turn the tables, disarm Reinhold and bash in his brains. He then disposes of the body in the metalwork's foundry furnace.

Chapter Two follows in a different setting which interestingly occurs almost simultaneously as the action in the preceding chapter. The attendant in charge of the stored luggage at Southbourne Station notices blood seeping out of a trunk, opens it and discovers a "disarticulated leg." He is horrified and immediately calls the police. The police set up a trap for the owner of the trunk. When he shows up to claim his property the police learn there was a terrible misunderstanding. Dr. Hemsworth, the owner of the trunk, tells them: "I don't blame you for arresting me. But the person who owns that leg is very much alive." It seems Hemsworth has a research project and he was allowed to take the leg from a recent amputation at the hospital where he works. He foolishly left the trunk too long at the storage room due to some delays at his job. Now the leg is spoiled and useless for his research. The police find this all hard to believe so they drag the doctor to the station and have a parade of hospital employees come in to verify his identity and story.

These two incidents will eventually link up in the first of several eyebrow raising surprises in a book replete with criminal ingenuity and viciously executed murders. The case is investigated by Sykes' series detective Inspector Dennis Drury and his capable team of policemen and law officials. The foundry is a front for an intricate criminal operation populated with myriad scoundrels and duplicitous employees with secrets in their past. The police wonder why someone didn't bash in Reinhold's brains years ago, he turns out to have made several enemies. Drury is always turning up someone he remembers from his days as a beat cop as he interviews the various employees at the foundry. The final third of the book is taken up with a pursuit at sea as the police track down their quarry and attempt to prevent another murder. Deep sea fishing is described with expert gusto that would have Ernest Hemingway dripping with envy. The climax is heightened by a battle to hook a 200 pound tuna with two men harnessed into a high tech rod and reel and fisherman's chair. Who will do in whom?

William Stanley Sykes, 1939
photo © by Howard Coster
(Courtesy of National Portrait Gallery, London)

Not only is the plot intricate and engaging but Sykes has a talent for making even the most minor characters like Sam Garside, the stowed luggage attendant, fully human. Like George Bellairs who also enjoys giving us micro-biographies of characters who appear on only a few pages, Sykes has fun with filing us in on the quirks and homelife of his supporting cast while often revealing secrets the police will never uncover. Garside spends much of his workday working the contest crossword puzzles in the newspaper longing to strike it rich with the prize money. Wayland Harrison, Reinhold's crooked partner, likes to cheat at golf. Marston is embezzling funds from Reinhold to help finance his expensive, sometimes dangerous, hobby of tuna fishing. Black humor and untold criminality add satiric spice and enliven his detective plot.

The life and medical career of William Stanley Sykes (1894-1961) has been written about extensively all over the internet and I'm not going to reiterate any of it. The most detailed and concise summation is his obituary that appeared in the British Journal of Anesthesia.  I was fortunate to find two portraits of him at the National Portrait Gallery's vast database. So there he is over on the left as he appeared in 1939, seven years after the publication of The Harness of Death. As for his fiction writing I have lots to report.

Sykes' third and last detective novel is The Ray of Doom (1935) which incorporates elements of science fiction was published only in the UK by Hodder & Stoughton. This is the rarest of his detective novels. The Worldcat.org database tells me that there are only 9 copies held in a mix of US, Canadian, UK and Australian libraries. Currently, two copies are offered for a sale from online dealers, but they both appear to be battered ex-library books. Pass! No one is getting $129 (plus postage) from me for a dirty, beat up book no matter how rare it is.

Hush #8, January 1931

He contributed three mini short stories that were solve-them-yourself mysteries for Hush, edited by Edgar Wallace and created by William Collins & Company as a way to help market the work of their bestselling mystery writers who were part of Collins Crime Club. It may have been a perk for subscribers who signed up for The Detective Story Club, a short-lived imprint & subscriber book club from Collins that reprinted in cheap hardback format several popular detective fiction books and thrillers from the 1920s and earlier. Three of Agatha Christie's Jane Marple short stories that would eventually appear in The 13 Problems (1932) -- The Tuesday Night Murders in the US -- as well as works by Sydney Horler, the Coles, and J.S. Fletcher all appeared in Hush alongside Sykes' puzzles. The magazine ran from June 1930 to June 1931 and had only 13 issues. Subtitled "Problems in Detection" Sykes' only short stories as such are "How Was the Knife Thrown? (Jan 1931), "The Dangerous Safe" (Feb 1931), and "The Locked Room" (March 1931).

FFB: Death's Bright Angel - Thurman Warriner

It may be that Death's bright Angel,
Will speak in that chord again;
It may be that only in Heav'n,
I shall hear that grand Amen.

 -- "The Lost Chord" by Adelaide A. Proctor
Set to music by Sir Arthur Sullivan in 1877

THE STORY: Is it possible for love to cure a terminal illness? Julia Lindsey begins to believe that she has thee unusual power and is frightened by it. Andrew Quayne reveals to Julia he has cancer due to radioactivity exposure at his last job in a nuclear research facility in America. He suffers a near fatal collapse after a grueling hike in the country and Julia rushes to find help. Her fiance is rescued, taken to her home where he manages to quickly recuperate each time she holds him in her arms or touches him. Archdeacon Toft and Mr. Ambo, who helped Julia save Andrew's life, take up residence in Julia's home where she lives with her sullen and often angry artist brother Elton. While caring for Andrew the four learn that he is not suffering from radioactive exposure and cancer but instead is being poisoned by his greedy relatives who want Andrew's inheritance and get control of the family business. At least that is Andrew's belief. His relatives behavior to him, secretive and acrimonious, only serves to underscore the theory. The mystery of Andrew's illness is coupled with the strangling murder of Elton's former girlfriend, the well-liked local barmaid May Varley. It is up to Archdeacon Toft, Mr Ambo and their private detective associate John Scotter to rout out the evil, expose the murderer and end a literal reign of terror in the village of Bidderley.

THE CHARACTERS: Warriner's trio of detectives have never been more wise and affable than in Death's Bright Angel (1956). Toft pontificates and blusters like an older, wiser and more sedate version of Henry Merrivale. Mr. Ambo, in his seventies in this outing, is the kind of dear old gentleman everyone wants as his grandfather. We learn more about his past in his intimate conversations with Julia. Ambo's share of insightful observations provide clarity for the characters as they learn the differences between personality disorders, temperament and stubbornness, and genuinely evil behavior. When Scotter the 30ish private eye with good common sense and an earthy sense of humor shows up the story kicks into high action mode. Metaphysics give way to sound detection, the two suspects who seem to be very much involved in May's murder at last stop lying and deceiving and there is race to rescue one more of our protagonists from the clutches of a nasty piece of work.

Julia and Andrew provide a sweet love story that thankfully never descends into the nadir of sentimental drivel. It is Julia's fear of her genuine goodness that makes the book so fascinating. Her paradoxical dilemma provides for some suspenseful moments as she tries to figure out if it is right for Andrew to be so selfishly cared for or if she is doing him more harm than good. Her miraculous touch terrifies her and she truly believes that she might literally kill him with kindness. Her brother, Elton, is the antithesis of Julia. And he provides much frustration for both the detective heroes and the reader.

Elton is an arrogant creative type we find so often in crime fiction. He spends much of his time painting portraits, belittling his own talent, compromising his true art for commercial work for magazines and billboards, and denounces everyone and everything with bitter sarcasm. When May comes to him for money to help raise their child Elton's insensitive cruelty and his dismissal of her plight leads to her doom. Everyone in the village think his sullen moods and anger make him the number one suspect of May's strangling murder. Elton fervently denies he had anything to do with her death but a painting he gave her prior to her leaving his house is found in the fields near her body and it's nearly destroyed. Elton is hiding something and refuses to cooperate with both police and the trio of amateurs. Only when Scotter shows up and practically threatens him with not only arrest but a sound beating does Elton's seething anger explode. Elton's confesion is reminiscent of the climax of An Inspector Calls as he accuses everyone in the room of being responsible for May's murder. As he unleashes his rage he melodramatically reveals a closely guarded secret that simultaneously serves up one of the most gasp inducing surprises in the book.

Andrew's two sisters, cousin and cousin-in-law round out the cast. A more despicable trio of family members could not be found outside of a Ruth Rendell or Minette Walters crime novel. Gilbert Callas is a ne'er-do'well twit who speaks like he escaped from a P.G. Wodehouse farce with all his "Jolly good chaps" and "What ho, mate!" He is ineffectual, foolish and completely lacking in business sense. Phoebe Atwyn Quayne, the elder sister as one might imagine is as pretentious as her name -- a haughty snob who writes romance novels that despite the godawful purple prose (it's read aloud at one point) sell incredibly well and provide her with a lucrative income and entitled airs. The younger sister Tina is something of a cipher. Emaciatingly thin in contrast to her portly sister she is portrayed as a sinister woman who dresses all in black, speaks tersely and reticently, and sneers an awful lot. The only saving grace is Gilbert's wife, Mary, who is described by Mr. Ambo "as good as her very fine name". Mary is Julia's one friend never without a kind word or a pleasing laugh to lighten a story that threatens to give in to portentous anguish.

No cliché Snidely Whiplash in sight

INNOVATIONS: Warriner writes what I like to call metaphysical detective novels. Archdeacon Toft is always bringing up the topic of evil in everyday life. The villains in these novels are tainted with unrepentant amorality. Refreshingly, Warriner rejects the post-modern idea of the banality of evil. His villains are some of the most fascinating people in his novels for one never suspects them capable of the crimes described. His use of misdirection is comparable to the greats of the Golden Age and there are two brilliant uses of misdirection in Death’s Bright Angel. He certainly fooled me -- both times! In each of his mystery novels Warriner cleverly builds up his case against several suspects, providing motive and opportunity for all, but always manages to reveal the true culprit in an eleventh surprise. This is perhaps one of the best examples of the least likely character being revealed as the killer. It is truly unexpected and sort of blew me away.

The talk of evil is contrasted and amplified by the unusual plot device of Julia's supposed paranormal gift of healing Andrew's cancer. This leads to a discussion of the healing power of love that is never handled in a treacly or New Age way, but with sensitivity and intelligence. Just when it all seems to be a bit too much, a tale bordering on metaphysics and supernatural, Warriner explains all of the scheming and truly evil actions as the work of a talented and thoroughly amoral villain who not only strangles but kills with the power of suggestion.

QUOTES: Toft's retort when Elton in one of his many stubborn fits protests he is innocent until proven guilty: "A man can be guilty of monumental idiocy even if he's innocent of murder."

"Something's going to happen. I can feel it. I believe in evil as a spiritual force capable of incarnation, and I can smell its birth."

A conversation about Andrew's cancer raises thoughts on Church of England dogma and the dangers of splitting atoms:  "No children!" Elton repeated. "Oh God, that's funny! [...] it seems odd to hear a dignitary of the Church say that. Especially when one considers that the chief purpose of marriage, according to the Prayer Book, is the procreation of children."
"We probably need a revised version of the Prayer Book even more than of the Bible," the Archdeacon retorted. "Blame the times, not the Church. In Tudor days it would scarcely be anticipated that mankind would be playing with the dust of God used to build the universe."

Scotter to Elton: "Brother, they'll be making a full-page block of that picture for next Sunday's editions. Accused man's blond girlfriend. Every hag under sixty's beautiful to Fleet Street and every reporter carries a bottle of hair dye in his pocket. Circulation goes up ten thousand every time blonde gets set up in type."

THINGS I LEARNED: Archdeacon Toft describes Gilbert's "What ho" twit talk as "wizard prang." I had no idea what this meant. But as usual the internet delivereth! During WW2 the RAF pilots developed a huge slang vocabulary. Wizard prang is one of the most overused phrases of the era. The definition I found online here is "A bombing mission that resulted in a large amount of destruction." Further research revealed that prang which RAF pilots used to mean "crash" comes from the Malay word for "war". However, the correct Malay spelling is perang. Using "wizard" as a modifier was a way of making any slang term a superlative.