APPLEBY TALKS ABOUT CRIME.
By Michael Innes (1906-94).
Edited by John Cooper.
Crippen & Landru Publishers.
2010. 180 pages: 18 short-short stories.
For sale HERE.
In their article, "Shades of Blue: Oxbridge in Detective Fiction," Julian Earwaker and Kathleen Becker offer a fine background for the kind of detective fiction writing that Michael Innes, a genuine exemplar of the breed, engaged in, just as many other "Oxbridge" dons were wont to do:
Traditionally, Oxbridge detective writing has flowed from one main source: academia. Plots are inspired by and often structured around the unique architecture of the colleges: the mellow medieval arches, "dreaming" spires, quadrangles and patches of garden and greenery that take the breath away. Quietly but demonstrably asserting the power and privilege that lies within sight but beyond reach of most townsfolk, it is here that the origins of "donnish" detection lie. In the words of one of its foremost exponents, Michael Innes (pseudonym of J. I. M. Stewart), Oxbridge is also a habitat that offers the detective writer "such a capital frame for the quiddities and wilie-beguilies of the craft."
Exactly why mystery writing, which many academics have traditionally considered a disreputable pursuit at best, appealed to so many of the Oxbridge dons living in the Golden Age of Detective Fiction, may never be fully explicated to everyone's satisfaction. Perhaps the intellectual rigors of academia needed a kind of release valve analogous to that afforded by physical exercise. In fact, Innes' total lifetime scholarly output was but a mere fraction of his detective fiction; if writing mysteries was a "release" mechanism for Innes, he must have been under incessant pressure, which would have lasted half a century!
Earwaker and Becker note the competition between the two major English universities played a role in shaping "donnish" detective fiction, curiously—or perhaps not so surprisingly—to the neglect of the outside world:
For the dons writing Golden Age Oxbridge mysteries, detective fiction was seen as a light and slightly shameful diversion. Donnish detective fiction is often as light on landscape as it is loaded with literary allusion: the Town (the people, social fabric and city landscape) outside the Gown (academia: its people and landscape) being of little relevance. In a neatly English compromise, Innes (an Oxford don himself) has his Shakespeare-quoting, quintessentially English detective-don John Appleby operating in a college midway between Oxford and Cambridge "hard by the otherwise blameless environs of Bletchley." Appleby first appears in the classic mystery Death at the President's Lodging (1936). Even in those days, traffic rumbles past and the city's "grey and fretted stone, sweeping in its gentle curve from bridge to bridge, shudders and breathes as at the stroke of a great hammer upon the earth."
Uncharacteristically of Innes' "compromise," however, Oxbridge appears in none of the stories collected in Appleby Talks About Crime. They are clearly set in England, but in "the Town" and not "the Gown," almost entirely in the 1950s, and nearly all of them tend to the anecdote. There are no blood and thunder, no angst, no major character development (except by inference). Since most of the stories run to five pages or so (and require about that many minutes to read), the emphasis is necessarily on the puzzle—although the reader will be hard-pressed to solve them himself due to Innes' tendency to withhold essential facts. To appreciate these stories, simply sit back, let the author's cleverness be revealed, and marvel at how he has compacted what lesser writers would need sixty times as much space to accomplish (indeed, some of the plots are wonderfully complicated and could easily have been attenuated to book length).
Contents:
Introduction by John Cooper—An excellent historical overview of Michael Innes' detective fiction output.
John Appleby by Michael Innes—The author contextualizes his main character:
What I am claiming here . . . is that Appleby is as much concerned to provide miscellaneous and unassuming "civilized" entertainment as he is to hunt down baddies wherever they may lurk. And I think this must be why he has proved fairly long-lived: and by this I mean primarily long-lived in his creator's imagination. In forty years I have never got quite tired of John Appleby as a pivot around which farce and mild comedy and parody and freakish fantasy revolve . . . . He is within a society remembered rather than observed—and remembered in terms of literary conventions which are themselves distancing themselves as his creator works. His is an expatriate's world. It is not a real world, controlled by actual and contemporary social pressures, any more than is, say, the world of P. G. Wodehouse.
The stories:
"A Small Peter Pry"—Thanks to his wife Judith, Appleby solves a case of art forgery and murder.
"The Author Changes His Style"—Why do a press clipping, stolen stories, and a vengeful lover move a novelist to suicide? Appleby connects the dots.
"The Perfect Murder"—When Appleby hears of the death of a research scientist, he is only mildly interested; but that will change drastically when he learns that the poor fellow was in perfect health when he died. The Inspector has good reason to suspect "an untraceable poison unknown to science."
"The Scattergood Emeralds"—Appleby recounts the curious case of the stolen jewels, their dopplegangers, and a burglar who enjoys more good luck than burglars are entitled to.
"The Impressionist"—An artist dies when he hurtles through an open window clutching a bust of Venus and is crushed on the rocks below, an apparent suicide. Appleby's knowledge of artistic technique clears up the mystery. (This story has an Ellery Queen-style challenge to the reader.)
"The Secret in the Woodpile"—When a psychiatrist's charred body is found in his burned-out house, his brains blown out, the Inspector doesn't have a clue to go on at first; but when an unusual surname surfaces, his inquiry will lead him into a nearly fatal encounter with an insane egoist trying to deceive the world about his talents.
"The General's Wife Is Blackmailed"—Appleby is the junior member of the Mystery Club, and in that capacity helps his fellow members elucidate the problem of a young wife who incautiously opens herself up to blackmail.
"Who Suspects the Postman?"—At a Yuletide party being held in one of our stately homes, an invaluable Chinese vase goes missing. On the advice of Father Christmas, Appleby goes in pursuit of the guest posing as the postman; but Appleby knows, despite the false trail that's been laid for him, where the blame really falls.
"A Change of Face"—Appleby and the Mystery Club members deliberate on the rather entertaining account of one of their number, a plastic surgeon, becoming involved in an attempted coup in a small European country.
"The Theft of the Downing Street Letter"—One of the Mystery Club members is a detective fiction author; he presents in outline form an idea he's had for a story and challenges his friends to spot the clue that will solve it.
"The Tinted Diamonds"—Appleby discusses with his fellow Mystery Clubbers the instance of the woman in a photograph he's brought with him; she has blue hair and blue jewels to match them. What she didn't know about her diamonds when the picture was made would, if she found out, turn her blue as well.
"Jerry Does a Good Turn for the Djam"—At the Mystery Club dinner Appleby recounts the time an international crisis blew up when a foreign potentate was holding a press conference and was shot, only to vanish later from the hospital; all of which just goes to show that one man's joke is another man's tragedy.
"The Left-Handed Barber"—The Mystery Club member who is a professional artist remembers the time his mother-in-law thought she had discovered an original Leonardo da Vinci drawing among her possessions. One thing led to another and, by mental associations, our artist came to conclude that a robbery was very likely to occur; the association that led him there was, oddly enough, how artists represent shadows in their work.
"The Party That Never Got Going"—Appleby and wife Judith are in Italy attending a party along with the rich and famous when the lights go out and a shot is heard; when they come back on, the host is found dead. To complicate matters, Appleby knows that just about every person there has a motive—needles in haystacks, indeed.
"The Mystery of Paul's 'Posthumous' Portrait"—An artist takes a commission to paint a "portrait" of someone said to have died years ago, using his sister as a model. All seemingly innocent enough, but an alert Appleby suspects fraud might be involved, and he is quite right.
"The Inspector Feels the Draught"—On a rainy day, Appleby pays a visit to an old university science tutor who has recently married a much younger woman. The fact that the scientist is as crotchety as ever, plus subtle changes in air pressure, lead Appleby to suspect foul play is afoot.
"Pelly and Cullis"—At the very moment the verdict in a trial is being delivered, one of the jurors is found to be dead—poisoned, as it's later learned. Appleby, now in retirement, decides to assist the local inspector with the case, the conclusion of which entails discovering dark secrets—and a large dose of irony.
"The Man Who Collected Satchels"—Why would a grown man steal a boy's schoolbook bag? As the Mystery Club members mull it over the answer becomes clear: to get hold of a book just about any child might have, one of no importance at all—unless the boy's father happens to be a high government official.
Appendix: The Short Stories of Michael Innes
Afterword by Dr. Margaret Macintosh Harrison—A charming glimpse of Michael Innes, the man, by his daughter.
Resources:
- Les Blatt has a podcast review of Appleby Talks About Crime HERE.
- Other short story collections by Michael Innes available on Amazon.com:
Appleby Talking (1954) - HERE
Appleby Talks Again (1956) - HERE
The Appleby File (1975) - HERE
- The GADetection Wiki has an entry about Innes and reviews of some of his books HERE.
- Earwaker and Becker's article about Oxbridge is HERE.
- Crippen & Landru offers many fine reprints of detective fiction once thought irretrievably lost HERE.
Category: Detective fiction (Oxbridge school)
THE COLUMBO COLLECTION.
By William Link (b. 1933).
Crippen & Landru Publishers.
2010. 274 pages: 12 stories.
Few television detectives are as iconic as Lieutenant Columbo of the Los Angeles Police Department. His mannerisms, his appearance, his methods—once you've seen him on TV, you're not likely to forget Columbo.
Those wonderful folks at Crippen & Landru (C & L)—particularly Douglas Greene—over the years have been retrieving mystery ephemera that have been unjustly consigned to oblivion, as, for example, old radio scripts and short stories that often appeared only once and were inexplicably forgotten with their authors' demise.
With The Columbo Collection, however, C & L has persuaded a very much alive mystery master—William Link—to produce 12 new adventures featuring the always underestimated LAPD detective. For fans of the TV series, it's like seeing a dozen new shows. (As with C & L's reprints of Ellery Queen stories, in which you can't help "hearing" and "seeing" Jim Hutton and David Wayne in your mind's eye, so it is you'll be "hearing" and "seeing" the peerless Peter Falk going through his paces.) But these "shows" can be "viewed" in 15 or 20 minutes, a mere fraction of the time the original series took.
Although the emphasis is always on the plot—a good thing in its own right—William Link does add the occasional literary flourish that shows he's not entirely bound to the telegraphic style of TV. No, The Columbo Collection isn't "Great Art," but it is an awful lot of fun.
1. "The Criminal Criminal Attorney"—A hotshot lawyer gets his client acquitted of a rape charge only to turn right around and murder him. Lieutenant Columbo must break the killer's alibi and track down some incriminating physical evidence, as well as figure out the motive for the slaying, before he can close this case.
2. "Grief"—A retired physician is out walking his dog when he is struck by a car and killed. Circumstantial evidence would seem to support the obvious conclusion that it was a simple hit-and-run, but Lieutenant Columbo's "instincts" (his word) tell him otherwise. By the time he resolves this case, he will have grown to appreciate all the more the ancient expression, Cave canem.
3. "A Dish Best Served Cold"—An Iraq War veteran apparently commits suicide, but Lieutenant Columbo has "second thoughts" (again, his words), especially about the missing fingerprints and gunpowder residue. As he says, "Sometimes you can be too careful when you plan and carry out murder."
4. "Ricochet"—Columbo must overcome his fear of flying in the only way he knows how in order to visit New York City to follow up on a murder case. The problem is the prime suspect has an airtight alibi that places him 3,000 miles from the crime scene. Of course, people have been known to lie to protect others, but bullets drilled into a tree can only tell the truth.
5. "Scout's Honor"—In this one, the killer tries to help someone he loves by committing murder; but the irony is that he does too good a job of it and inadvertently ends up putting the person he wants to help squarely in the frame. Everything points to the wrong person being the killer, and from long experience Lieutenant Columbo knows that the physical evidence alone doesn't tell the whole story.
6. "Sucker Punch"—While they're out jogging one morning, a professional boxer and his sparring partner are shot; one dies and the other is left in a coma. Columbo is called to Santa Clara to help with the investigation and discovers that his prime suspect lacks sufficient motive. If only he had dropped a bad habit, the real killer just might have gotten away with it. Even with 21st century forensics, it's Columbo's doggedness that nails the perp.
7. "The Blackest Mail"—When a Hollywood starlet shoots a celebrity stalker to death, it looks like a case of self-defense—after all, he was carrying a knife. But Lieutenant Columbo senses there's more to it, with little things that don't quite compute, such as some missing money, a full tank of gas, that bullet in the garage door, and a few other discrepancies that point to blackmail rather than perverted love.
8. "The Gun That Wasn't"—A police detective is executed, Mafia-style, in his own house. Another detective sets out in hot pursuit but fails to catch, or even see, the killer(s). Columbo is on the case from the start; gradually he uncovers evidence that leads him away from the Mob and straight to someone with whom he's been on a first name basis for years. What tips him off are missing candlesticks, andirons, and a widescreen TV.
9. "Requiem for a Hitman"—It's all so simple: Hire a hitman to kill the old judge and then in a surprise ambush shoot the hitman just after he's done the deed. Neat. Tidy. Economical. But there's an unexpected kink in the plan: The hitman has a relative—and it's really a shame because this person is one of the very few people in Lieutenant Columbo's universe who doesn't mind it when he lights up a cigar.
10. "Trance"—Lieutenant Columbo and his niece are attending a police charity event and witness an amusing act featuring a hypnotist having fun mesmerizing two policemen. Later that evening, however, things take a serious turn when the hypnotist's estranged wife is found dead in her apartment, and one of the officers who'd been hypnotized is discovered, dazed and confused, at the scene, making him the prime suspect. The noose tightens when it's learned this particular cop had an ongoing, illicit relationship with the victim. But for Columbo this open-and-shut case isn't so airtight, especially when he comes to consider the importance of that one little bead he finds in the closet . . . .
11. "Murder Allegro"—A young and talented concert violinist is strangled in her hotel suite. From long experience Columbo is inclined to suspect the husband, but he has an ironclad alibi as well as no discernible motive to kill her. Columbo soon discovers that the husband was far from faithful to his wife. What finally clinches the case, however, is that charming Japanese custom of removing one's footwear in indoor living spaces—and that seemingly trivial matter of a room key left inside a shoe.
12. "Photo Finish"—When a woman discovers her husband has been having an affair with his "personal" secretary, she decides to issue a thirty-eight-caliber divorce decree. This woman scorned is quite intelligent, and it looks as if she just might get away with it—except for that flaky little cop who keeps asking uncomfortable questions—and that nosy next door neighbor—and that neglected copy of Business Week—and, most importantly, the fact that the camera does not lie. (This story—like several others in the collection—filters events through the consciousness of the killer, thereby slightly distancing the reader from Columbo and his thoughts.)
Parental warning: This book contains strong language.
Resources:
- The FictionMags index has a list of William Link's fictional output HERE.
Category: Detective fiction (rumpled raincoat division)
A POCKETFUL OF NOSES: STORIES OF ONE GANELON OR ANOTHER.
By James Powell (b. 1932).
Crippen & Landru Publishers.
2009. 221 pages: 12 stories.
James Powell has hit upon a wonderful conceit: following the changing fortunes of a family of detectives from one generation to the next. In so doing, he can exploit the various modalities into which crime fiction has developed over the past century. Thus we have Ambrose Ganelon the First, the founder of the Ganelon Detective Agency in the tiny Mediterranean principality of San Sebastiano, thwarting criminals using armchair detection methods in the mid-19th century á la Poe's Dupin; Ambrose the Second employing the scientific methods of Sherlock Holmes at the turn of the century; Ambrose the Third using the two-fisted approach of Chandler and Hammett in the early-20th century — but as for Ambrose the Fourth, he has been forced by straitening circumstance into operating in a manner that is uniquely his own.
Powell's Ambrose Ganelon stories now number nearly three dozen, 12 of which have been collected here. And a fine assortment they are as they take us from one well-imagined historical environment to another — with emphasis on "well-imagined." In his introduction Powell explains how and why he wished to free himself from "the tyranny of facts," the results of which are delightfully fractured depictions of history and technology. While actual historical events do serve as backdrops to — and engines for jump starting — the plots, technical purists might demur from characterizing Powell's stories as historical mysteries; nevertheless, enough verisimilitude is here to ground us tentatively in actual history. True, the milieu of San Sebastiano operates according to its own system of internal logic much as Baum's Wonderful Land of Oz does; but while events and people sometimes move towards the edge of credibility, they never crash the barrier.
Powell's tone is almost always lightly satirical, even when bodies begin to pile up. (The singular exception in this collection, "Harps of Gold," is one of the grimmest stories we've read in quite some time.) Yet while the mood is normally bright, the stories are entertaining mysteries, with detectives of every generation doing some actual detecting — so, if you are unfamiliar with the exploits of the Ganelon clan, this book is your chance to enter into their world of would-be global dominators, clever confidence men, professional killers, stolen diplomatic documents, murder in war time, deadly jokes, noses by the handful, water fountain raiders, and free refrigerators.
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Contents:
Introduction: The Fiction Behind the Fiction
Ambrose Ganelon I:
"The Flower Diet" — Ambrose the First must deal with a slippery con man who has the whole of San Sebastiano convinced he can live without eating. The situation escalates to crisis proportions, nearly resulting in war.
"Unquiet Graves" — For Ambrose Ganelon, a dead man walking seems a most unlikely situation, but when a client insists on having seen one, Ambrose, braving weather most foul, determines that murder most foul has been perpetrated — and confirms that the dead may walk only through the agency of the Resurrection men.
"The Haunted Bookcase" — What do a caseful of books, juvenile atheism, an unfinished portrait, intimate confessions committed to paper, and an account of a dream involving dark waters and a goat all have in common? Ambrose connects these disparate elements together and finds they all converge inside a man's guilty conscience.
"The Priest Without a Shadow" — While visiting St. Petersburg, Ambrose is diverted by an amazing tale of a murder, including a beheading, and of a priest who, while casting no shadow, claims the ability to exorcize the murdered man's spirit from a recently rented house. It takes patience but Ambrose is soon able to establish a link between the dead man and the priest that has very little to do with the spirit world and everything to do with the mundane world of European political rivalries.
Ambrose Ganelon II:
"The Gooseberry Fool" — Ambrose the Second is investigating the validity of claims made about the then-popular "science" of phrenology. While he is staying by invitation at a baronial estate, the theft of a valuable sapphire occurs, casting suspicion equally upon an odd assortment of house guests, one of whom Ambrose will come to recognize as not merely a thief but also an assassin famously know throughout Europe as the Gooseberry Fool.
"The Verbatim Reply" — After having spent some time criss-crossing Europe in the guise of a photographer in order to escape the murderous attention of his archenemy, Ambrose makes a stopover at the British embassy in Sofia. While he is there, an important diplomatic document goes missing, an event which could terminate the promising career of a young Englishman. The plot is foiled, however, when Ambrose ascertains who took what, why and when, and at whom the plan was actually directed.
"A Pocketful of Noses" — One fine October evening in San Sebastiano, a man is found dead, a knife in his back with, mirabile dictu, a pocketful of artificial noses. Exactly how this individual came to his untimely end, why he would mail his noses to himself as he travelled about Europe, and what his relationship to a nefarious smuggler of military secrets might be, are all conundrums Ambrose almost effortlessly unravels with the unwitting assistance of the official police — that, and a well-placed banana peel.
Ambrose Ganelon III:
"Harps of Gold" — Amid the insanity of the First World War, Ambrose the Third is serving as liaison to the Canadian elements of the Allied army when he witnesses a murder — or, rather, he is present when the deed is done, yet neither he nor any of the others see it happen. In a way, this crime seems to Ambrose less of an atrocity than the organized carnage he is a willing party to.
"The Zoroaster Grin" — Rumor on the street has it that someone wants to kill Ambrose, but the deaths of several others — all of whom are associated with a deadly ancient Persian manuscript — distract him just enough to make Ambrose overlook the perils present in ambrosia, a grand piano, and possible exposure to the always-lethal Ho-Ho fever.
"At Willow-Walk-Behind" — Ambrose, wishing to sharpen his non-violent self-defense skills, is at a monastery when some of the other guests start dying under mysterious circumstances. Could any of these deaths be related to behind-the-scenes machinations involving a proposed railway from Egypt to China or the establishment of a Persian air force? And what about the trees that are believed by many to walk and talk?
Ambrose Ganelon IV:
"Coins in the Frascati Fountain" — A multimillionaire playboy contracts Ambrose the Fourth to find out who has been stealing coins from one of San Sebastiano's most popular tourist attractions. So wealthy and influential (and involved with the Mob) is his client that Ambrose, with poverty nudging his elbow, accepts the case, in spite of its lackluster appeal, because at stake is nothing less than his little country's future. The solution, as it turns out, will hinge upon what or who is living in the clock . . . .
"The Bird-of-Paradise Man" — In the drowsy streets of San Sebastiano, housewives hear an offer that's almost too good to be true: an even trade, a brand-new refrigerator for their old one, no questions asked. Of course, there is more behind this than it seems — the refrigerator swap is a ploy to exact revenge, as the man with wings but no legs explains to Ambrose . . . .
A Checklist of the Mystery Writings of James Powell
Resources:
- James Powell's homepage is HERE, while the FictionMags index has an Ambrose Ganelon checklist HERE.
Category: Detective fiction (satirical division)
THE MURDER IN THE STORK CLUB AND OTHER MYSTERIES.
By Vera Caspary (1899-1987).
Edited by A. B. Emrys.
Crippen & Landru Publishers.
2009. 237 pages: 4 stories.
For sale HERE.
Through lowered lashes she studied the handsome face, thinking how little she knew of the mind behind that splendid façade. With all of the intimacy and compassion, she had never understood him, never dreamed of the scheming and deceit concealed by his facile charm. "You said that you could kill me, remember?"
Vera Caspary is remembered nowadays primarily for her novel Laura, which became the basis for an enormously popular motion picture in the 1940s. In common with Laura, the stories in this fine Crippen & Landru collection feature ambitious young women struggling to make it in what used to be called a man's world.
Caspary's feminism (the word itself even appears in one story) seems to have been informed by her political outlook, which worldview pervades her fiction. For her, women are constantly in a class struggle with the male power structure. Moreover, any wealthy person, man or woman, who didn't start at the bottom and work their way to the top is worthy of contempt. How much of this attitude is the result of her own personal experiences or her own doctrinaire communism we cannot say, but she does return to these themes of sexual politics and the abuses of the wealthy nearly every time.
The book contains four short novels (variously called these days novellas or novelettes). The form allows her to explore character in far more depth that would be possible in the short story.
The first story, "Stranger in the House," generates considerable suspense, especially with its element of child endangerment; if the basic scenario hadn't already been used in at least one Hollywood film prior to the appearance of this story, "Stranger" would be more impressive.
Caspary must have chosen "Sugar and Spice" as the next story's title for ironic effect. In it women do things and think thoughts that men would probably find appalling in what they sometimes carelessly regard as the gentler sex.
"Ruth" dates from the 1960s, yet with a few changed details Jane Austen could have written it. For all of her female characters, men — husbands, boy friends, fathers — represent danger and sources of frustration; her women never come to a full understanding of the male psyche until it's either almost or completely too late. Somewhere along the way each man disappoints the woman because of physical brutality or failing to be a mind reader.
With "The Murder in the Stork Club," though, Caspary hits a homer. To us, it's the best story in the collection, a genuine whodunit with dollops of actual detecting and occasional flashes of humor. The story's milieu is vividly realized (editor A. B. Emrys explains Caspary's "research"); the characters are individualistic and engaging; the pacing is brisk; and the prose is fluid. As Emrys tells us, "Stork Club" could have been intended as a sequel of sorts to Laura: What might have happened after the film's fadeout to the detective and the ambitious young woman whose life he has just saved? As you quickly learn reading stories by Vera Caspary, the last thing would be wedded bliss and happily ever after for them. Instead, our detective hero has to solve a crime that looks more and more likely to have been committed by his wife — and the situation isn't improved any when she sets out to solve it herself. Lots of fun.
So there you have it: Vera Caspary, contrary to her reputation, was not a one-trick pony. She could write some of the most suspenseful stories when she put her mind to it, and this book is worth your time and attention.
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Contents:
1. "Stranger in the House" (1943):
"He leaned over the bed and said confidentially, 'You're not to worry, darling. Everything has been arranged. Tonight he'll leave and it will all be over. Unless you're determined on doing something foolish, nothing can happen to you'."
2. "Sugar and Spice" (1943):
"I have never known a murderer, a murder victim, nor anyone involved in a murder case. I admit that I am a snob, but to my mind crime is sordid and inevitably associated with gangsters, frustrated choir singers in dusty suburban towns, and starving old ladies supposed to have hidden vast fortunes in the bedsprings. I once remarked to a friend that people of our sort were not in the homicide set, and three weeks later heard that her brother-in-law had been arrested as a suspect in the shooting of his rich uncle. It was proved, however, that this was a hunting accident and the brother-in-law exonerated. But it gave me quite a jolt.
"Jolt number two came when Mike Jordan, sitting on my patio on a Sunday afternoon, told me a story which proved that well-bred, middle-class girls can commit murder as calmly as I knit a sock, and with fewer lumps in the finished product."
3. "The Murder in the Stork Club" (1945):
"The announcer spoke of the Stork Club murder:
" '. . . according to Captain Mulvoy of the Homicide Squad, there can be no doubt as to the identity of the killer. Cherchez la femme. Find the woman in the mink coat.'
"Joe snapped it off and returned to the bedroom. Sara edged toward him.
" 'Joe, you don't think—' Her voice weakened. 'I may be a fool, but I couldn't do anything like that, Joe.'
"He gave her his hand. 'All I know is if they discover that you were with him last night, you'll have the very hell of a time.'
" 'But I didn't kill him.'
" 'They'll book you just the same, suspicion of murder. You'll be treated as a suspect. No bail. No sleep. Lights. Mulvoy and his stooges questioning you twenty-four hours a day, trying to get a confession.' Joe's hand tightened around hers. 'I wouldn't want it to happen to my worst enemy. And Mulvoy won't make it any easier because you're my wife.'
" 'Say that you don't believe it.'
"Joe went to the dresser and took out clean things. 'There's only one way to clear you and that's to find the jerk who bumped off your boy friend. Maybe it's lucky you married a detective instead of a millionaire'."
4. "Ruth" (1968):
"She would not let herself be glad, nor indulge in the luxury of nostalgia. Who but Johnnie could try to shoot a girl at night, and then try to flatter her at breakfast? She was more afraid of his charm than of the gun in the bed-table drawer."
Resources:
- You can buy a copy of Laura HERE; the Crippen & Landru homepage is HERE; and a Wikipedia article about Vera Caspary is HERE.
Category: Feminist crime fiction
THE CASEBOOK OF GREGORY HOOD.
Radio plays by Anthony Boucher (1911-68) and Denis Green (1905-54).
Edited by Joe R. Christopher.
Crippen & Landru Publishers.
2009. 257 pages: 14 plays.
For sale HERE.
Ah! Radio, the theater of the mind, where a word or two could evoke night and fog and danger in a city of two million, manifesting an entire universe for just a few dollars; where the unwitting listener actually did most of the work for the writers and performers, and was all the better for being an active participant rather than a passive observer.
Along with mystery maven John Dickson Carr, Anthony Boucher was in the thick of radio drama in its heyday. An experienced author and critic, Boucher knew the ins and outs of detective fiction, so that when he came to write for radio he knew what would and wouldn't work in this unique medium.
As Joe R. Christopher tells us in his introduction to The Casebook of Gregory Hood, Boucher already had plenty of experience writing for The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (with the definitive radio Holmes, Basil Rathbone) when, in the summer of 1946, Rathbone declared he'd had enough of The Great Detective and the series faced cancellation. Boucher and film actor Denis Green hurriedly devised a replacement when the sponsor indicated a willingness to have a mystery series, any kind at all as long as it involved detection. Boucher and Green's response was a show premise not too far removed from Sherlock Holmes: two men who would solve crimes primarily through cerebral effort — but with fisticuffs if necessary (and it did prove necessary on occasion).
Gregory Hood would be the independently wealthy owner of an import company based in San Francisco, and his trusty companion, Sanderson (Sandy) Taylor, would be his attorney. They would seldom seek out mysteries but rather have them unexpectedly fall into their laps uninvited.
Over time, Boucher and Green dreamed up some pretty wild situations for Hood and Sandy to become embroiled in; this book collects 14 of the earliest cases which evince Boucher's sure hand with plotting. (If you're not accustomed to reading radio scripts, don't be concerned; after a few moments it becomes almost second nature.) Indeed, compared with other radio mysteries of the time, thanks to Boucher the plots were stronger and more clever than most; only his colleague John Dickson Carr's scripts could boast stronger plotting. Thus we have one locked-room situation, a dying message, impersonations — all staples of Golden Age detective fiction.
There are "Fascist" plots, killer clowns, diamond switching, hollowed-out coins, murder by bow and arrow, a disappearance in the fog, a highly mobile corpse, a Mission: Impossible-style deception, a stolen violin, mad Russians, psychotic ballet dancers, a medicinal murder plot — like we said, pretty wild situations. But despite all the obstacles they encounter, Hood and Sandy always emerge triumphant.
Crippen & Landru is a specialty publisher devoted to saving for posterity those shorter, more ephemeral works — stories, plays, and scripts — that offer an insight into an American culture — indeed, a world culture — that is now gone away. By recovering these neglected nuggets, C & L helps us understand the concerns of previous generations and how they dealt with them in their popular entertainment media.
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1. "The Three Silver Pesos":
"Magruder, what do I have to do to make you realize there's been a murder?"
"Show me a murdered man."
"But we had him. His corpse was in the stolen car."
"Sure. And before he was stiff you thought he was going to jump off the bridge — then that he had a heart attack — then that he was going to shoot himself — and finally a doctor told you he'd been knifed. And to cap it all a blonde babe steals your corpse and your car. Who are you trying to kid?"
"I admit it sounds unlikely, but it's true, Magruder."
"Prove it."
2. "The Black Museum":
"I am an Aztec princess. I warn you: others follow you. While you own the knife — you die!"
"If you must threaten me, I do wish you'd sit down. We'd all be more comfortable."
3. "The Adventure of the Beeswax Candle":
"I may have to book her on suspicion of murder, Mr. Hood."
"Suspicion . . . ! Lieutenant, are you crazy?"
"No, but your wife may be. We found her fingerprints on the dagger that was sticking in the dead man's chest."
4. "Murder in Celluloid":
"Stay where you are, Lou. And the rest of you. Don't you see that I'm still carrying my revolver?"
"Yes, a revolver containing blanks. You've just used it in the scene."
"Oh no. I have another one in my pocket — a revolver containing live shells. I've switched 'em. And I shoot expertly through the pocket despite the tailor's bills. You're not getting me arrested. I'm clearing out."
5. "The Derringer Society":
"I wish you'd let me come over, Mr. Felton. We don't like to take any chances."
"Look, Silvers, it's nearly midnight. My wife and I are going to bed. If anyone murders me during the night I'll get in touch with you first thing in the morning."
6. "South of the Border":
"I will swear upon any convenient stack of Bibles that I am not King Grigoru the sixteenth."
"Of course. I know that."
"At last! — someone who's making sense."
"Who should know better than I that you are not the king?"
"I'm delighted, Marya, but what makes you so positive?"
"For the most obvious reason. Did I not help you murder him?"
7. "The Red Capsule":
"We've come in to report a murder."
"Sounds as if you said 'murder,' son."
"That's what I did say. A girl was murdered last night in the mountains. My friend and I saw it happen."
8. "The Double Diamond":
"What's happened?"
"A girl sitting three seats behind you has been robbed as she slept."
"The honey-colored girl with the diamond pendant?"
"Yes — only her pendant no longer contains a diamond."
"Well, it's probably still on the plane. I doubt if the thief dropped it overboard with a tiny parachute."
9. "The Mad Dancer":
"There's a clearly defined pattern to this case — a pattern as definite, and as subtle, as a choreographer's arrangement of a ballet. I think it'll take a choreographer to give us the key to that pattern."
10. "Gregory Hood's First Case":
"Look here, Sandy! The man who was being threatened accidentally left us a clue to his identity!"
"Greg, I know you're a Sherlock Holmes fan, but I'm no Doctor Watson. Will you take off the deerstalker and return to normal? You're going into your father's importing business — not criminology."
11. "The Elusive Violin":
"I have a premonition where you're concerned, Greg. I know that your generous impulses are very laudable . . . but when you start to get mixed up with violinists . . . of both sexes . . . and reformed jewel thieves . . . I have a strong hunch that a sizeable pot of trouble is just starting to come to a boil."
12. "Gregory Hood, Suspect":
"Hood, I've waited a long time to catch you out on a limb. Now I've done it."
"Why d'you hate me so much, Magruder?"
"Because you're an amateur dick who thinks he can make monkeys out of the police. We don't tell you how to run your business. Why d'you mix yourself up with ours?"
"I don't — consciously. It mixes itself up with me."
13. "The Adventure of the Sad Clown":
"Great Scott! His mouth's frozen into a ghastly smile!"
"Yes. But it's a smile of death . . . and that smile is characteristic of a certain kind of poison — strychnine!"
14. "The White Masters":
"You haven't said a word all evening. What's the matter with you? . . . Hey! Put that gun away! You don't think you can get control of the organization that way — put it down!"
Revolver shot, followed by a door slam.
"Come on, Sandy — that sounded like a distinct case of murder!"
Resources:
- There's a biographical sketch of Anthony Boucher by William F. Nolan HERE, while David Langford profiled him HERE; see also the Wikipedia article HERE. Some of these plays have been preserved on audio HERE.
Category: Radio mystery plays
THE DAYS OF PELEG.
By Jon Saboe.
Outskirts Press, Inc.
2007. 619 pages (trade paperback).
For sale HERE.
Earth: The Final Frontier. This is the voyage of the Great Discovery Vessel Urbat, its twelve-year mission to seek out new civilizations and new trade, to boldly go . . . .
Peleg, earnest and stalwart, and his good friend Serug, impetuous but loyal, live nearly a century after the Great Awakening. The two of them decide to volunteer to serve aboard an exploratory ship seeking to find out what happened to the human race following the diaspora that resulted from the Awakening.
From birth, Peleg has been taught that Knowledge is the final goal of existence; serving as Chief Cartographer aboard the Urbat seems to be an ideal means of achieving that goal. But Peleg could never anticipate what would happen to him, not just physically but also spiritually, on this voyage of discovery.
For the civilization he leaves behind—a secularized world of confidence shading into arrogance—would undergo a radical change in his absence; and his own mind would expand into areas of knowledge he never could have acquired if he had stayed home.
Certainly Peleg and his friends don't lack for adventure. During their twelve-year voyage, they or the ones they leave behind would experience, among many other things . . .
. . . polytheism . . .
The argument was that, although Viracocha devoured the moon every month, the moon was resurrected anew, thereby demonstrating its superior vitality. Also, Mamaquilla regulated the months and tides, and although the Sun was essential, Mamaquilla was the most miraculous and ingenious of the gods made by Virachocha.
. . . "high technology" . . .
He told of the days hundreds of millennia ago when the gods formed ancient men who were little more than dumb brutes. He told of the arrival of the Anunnaki—inhabitants of Nibiru—in their ships from the stars powered by gold dust, who uplifted humanity and gave them longevity, wisdom, and the sciences of metallurgy, chemistry, and mathematics. They had endowed humanity with the mysteries of astronomy, space, and time.
. . . understatement . . .
"I do believe we have been selected for live burial."
. . . political treachery . . .
As he stepped down from the stage, people pressed forward to touch his hand, or convey their adorations with words or a brief intense look. A man in a fashionable hood approached and pushed through to stand next to him. A knife flashed. Those standing near screamed as a cloud of blood sprayed over them.
. . . acrophobia . . .
He had never been more terrified. He would almost have preferred to drown in the pyramid's water clock. Heights were one thing. Floating suspended in a gondola attached to a ship or the ground was another. But removing all ties to the earth and allowing the winds to carry you as far (and as high) as they wished was beyond all comprehension.
. . . spiritual insight . . .
"Only when you have received the Zeh-ra into your Volition can you discern how empty and void you were before He entered. One must also be cautious since the Nephilim will also attempt to enter your Spirit and control you. However, since it wasn't designed for them, their forceful nature and your accompanying physical discomfort expose them quickly."
. . . and more understatement . . .
"You may have noticed, Peleg, that our city has changed somewhat since you were last here."
Along with all that, you'll learn why OOPARTS are necessary to a proper grasp of history—and your Sumerian vocabulary will increase by several hundred percent, guaranteed.
Category: Historical fiction
"221-B, Baker Street."
By Edwin C. Hill (1884-1957).
Scribner's (November 1936; go to page 68).
Online HERE.
 |
| Unfinished business |
After Conan Doyle's demise, there was a scramble to see who would replace The Great Detective in the hearts and minds of the reading public, but as Edwin C. Hill indicates there was still some unfinished business having to do with Sherlock and the good Doctor.
Hill's full article follows:
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, gone now to solve in another world the problems of life and death which so concerned him, wearied at the latter end of his career of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and yet, if the creator of the world's most famous detective is in tune with earthly vibrations, he must feel a glow of pride in Doctor Watson's friend and hero. Not a day passes that the Post-office in London does not receive quantities of letters addressed to "Mr. Sherlock Holmes, 221-B, Baker Street." Not a year passes that thousands of such letters — most of them appeals for help — are mailed to a man who never lived and a house that never existed — so real are both.
Conan Doyle was a struggling country doctor when he conceived the idea of a fiction detective with uncanny powers of deduction and the faculty of observa-tion so acutely developed that he could read at a glance the whole life history of a visitor. Conan Doyle modeled Holmes after a remarkable character — Doctor Joseph Bell, who was consulting surgeon to the Royal Infirmary and Royal Hospital for Sick Children at Edinburgh, Scotland, where Conan Doyle received his medical training. Doctor Bell, thin, wiry, dark, with a high-nosed, acute face, penetrating gray eyes, angular shoulders, and a peculiar walk, with a voice high and discordant (Holmes to the life), possessed a knack of personality diagnosis as amazing as his skill as a surgeon.
Sir Arthur died half a dozen years ago without, unhappily, leaving us an account of innumerable mysteries whose solution had reflected glory on the name of Sherlock Holmes. In the stories he wrote, there were frequent references to cases which the great detective had solved, and perhaps sometime Sir Arthur intended to write them down. But he never did, and he died, leaving the world infinitely poorer. I, for one, would have given a lot to know what really took place in "The Singular Tragedy of the Atkinson Brothers at Trincomalee," or to learn more of "The Adventure of the Amateur Mendicant Society," whose members had a luxurious club in the lower vault of a furniture warehouse. . . . I, for one, would walk miles to get the truth of "The Singular Adventure of the Grice Patersons in the Island of Uffa," of "Colonel Warburton's Madness," of "The Adventure of Ricoletti of the Club Foot and his Abominable Wife." . . . Millions, I am sure, would lie awake of nights to read what really occurred in "The Case of Wilson, the Notorious Canary Trainer," "The Delicate Affair of the Reigning Family of Holland," "The Incredible Mystery of Mr. James Phillimore," who, stepping back into his own house to get his umbrella, was never more seen in this world.
So many more untold tales whose very suggested titles cause us to breathe a bit faster: "The Affair of the Politician, the Lighthouse, and the Trained Cormorant," "The Strange Case of Isador Persano," who was found stark, staring mad with a match box in front of him which contained a worm unknown to science. . . . Conan Doyle is gone, but Sherlock Holmes lives in a peculiarly definite sense as real as D'Artagnan or Cyrano.
Resource:
- Of course other writers have explored these gaps in the Holmes canon, through pastiches and/or parodies; go HERE for a huge database of their works.
Category: Sherlock Holmes's missing adventures
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