Classic Mysteries

"Death in Captivity"

Death in Captivity (1952) is a fascinating book, set in an Italian Prisoner of War camp during World War II. The author, Michael Gilbert, deftly juggles two major interconnecting mystery types. It is a wartime-escape story, with the Allied officer-prisoners working feverishly on a tunnel that they hoped would allow them to escape from the camp, Campo 127, and begin a long, nightmarish trek across much of Italy in an effort to rejoin the Allied armies on their invasion of Italy. And it is also an impossible murder story. Death in Captivity is the subject of today's audio review on the Classic Mysteries podcast, and you can listen to the complete review by clicking here.

The murdered man,  a Greek soldier named Cyriakos Coutoules, was widely suspected by the other Allied officers to have been a spy for the Italian guards at Campo 127. The body was discovered by the escape team digging out that tunnel. The tunnel, while under construction, was barely wide enough to allow one individual to dig his way through the sand and other obstacles he might encounter. Coutoules had been suffocated, but access to the tunnel where he died required four strong men to open and close the entrance way. There was no way someone could have gotten into the tunnel to kill Coutoules or to put the body there to be found. And yet it had happened. And when the Italian officer in charge of the camp decided to arrest one of the Allied officers and charge him with the murder ,it was quite evident that the officers would have to solve the murder themselves – and quickly – if they were to protect the wrongly-accused man and also preserve the secret of the tunnel on which they had based all their plans for escape.

It’s a harrowing story – and it’s worth noting that the author, Michael Gilbert, was himself a prisoner of war in just such a camp and took part in several escape attempts.  Despite the grim wartime background and the brutality inherent in war itself, Death in Captivity nevertheless is filled with flashes of wit and even humor that manage to ease the tension somewhat – only to have that tension ratcheted up again by a master storyteller.

Death in Captivity is a powerful and moving book. It will be republished early in May as another in the British Library Crime Classics series which are published in the U.S. by Poisoned Pen Press. (It's already available on Kindle.) This edition features an introduction by mystery historian Martin Edwards, who calls the book "one of the finest achievements of a crime writer of distinction." I’d have to agree, and I recommend it very strongly indeed.

"The Phantom of the Opera"

I have a confession to make. Despite living in the New York City metropolitan area, with ready access to Broadway, I have never seen the incredibly successful musical adapted of Gaston Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera. No live performance, musical or non. No film or television. Nothing. In fact, I hadn't even read the original novel.

Until now.

My audio review this week on the Classic Mysteries blog is of French author Gaston Leroux's novel, The Phantom of the Opera, written in 1910. The book has just been republished as part of the Haunted Library of Horror Classics, presented by the Horror Writers Association. The publisher is Poisoned Pen Press, and they have sent me an Advance Reader's Copy for my use in writing this review. You can listen to the complete audio review by clicking here.

For those who - like me - may be coming to The Phantom of the Opera for the first time, I will provide only the briefest of plot summaries, because so much of the real pleasure of books such as this one comes from being surprised by unexpected (or, sometimes, expected) plot twists. The action takes place in and around the sprawling Paris Opera House, a large theater existing on many levels, with many trap doors, secret passageways, even an underground lake below its cellars. And it also has what most of the opera's performers and stagehands believe is a ghost, never seen, but capable even of murder to protect its secrets.

After a lengthy opening section, the complicated plot of The Phantom of the Opera resolves itself into a classic love triangle. There is a young woman, a singer named Christine Daaè, who appears to be developing a magnificent voice – through the intervention and teaching of someone she never sees, but who calls himself the Angel of Music. There is a young man, the Viscount Raoul de Chagny, who falls in love with Christine – and, over the course of the book, uncovers many of the deepest secrets of the opera house and the ghostly Angel of Music. And there is that "Angel" himself, a grim and masked presence, a man born hideously ugly, so frightening that his own mother forced him to wear a mask to hide his face, a man named only “Erik,” who is obsessed with Christine and with her voice – but who is also aware that his deformities are not only terrifying to the performers and staff of the opera, but will also terrify Christine.

Those three, then, make up the central triangle of characters, although you could argue that the Opera House itself is a character, for that house (it was a real building, by the way), is home to Erik, offering many quick and easy ways to get between points backstage and through the cellars and trap rooms – and also providing ways for Erik to dispose of his enemies…even commit murders…and, when necessary, to hide Christine to keep her from her would-be rescuers.

An important point, I think, needs to be made: this new, Poisoned Pen Press edition of The Phantom of the Opera is based on the original 1911 English translation. In practice, I’m afraid, that means that some of it feels like a very literal (and rather old) translation with awkward and non-colloquial language. However, I found the story to be so compelling, and the characters so powerfully drawn, that I kept right on reading. It may start slowly, but the pace of events and the powerful characters – especially Erik, the phantom himself – will draw you in and keep you enchanted. Is it a classic? Yes. It should be on your shelves.

From the Vault: "Footsteps in the Dark"

It seems a pity to me that novelist Georgette Heyer is remembered primarily as an author of historical/Regency romances. Not that there's anything wrong with historical romances, it's just that she was also the creator of about a dozen very good and enjoyably witty mysteries, written during the Golden Age of Detection, which really ought to be of interest to any fans of traditional mysteries and thrillers - she wrote both kinds. One that is more a thriller than a puzzle is the first mystery Heyer wrote, called Footsteps in the Dark (1932). I gave it an audio review on the Classic Mysteries podcast several years back. Here, slightly edited, is the text of that review:

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You have to have a little sympathy for Charles Malcolm. After all, the old house really had been left to his wife, and to her sister and brother as well. Come to think of it, it really wasn’t an old house – it was an old, and pretty-well ruined, priory, originally built hundreds of years earlier. Any problems that Charles could foresee didn’t seem to make much of an impact on the three new owners. Still, none of them had bargained for what certainly appeared to be a most malevolent ghost haunting the priory. And the discovery of a skeleton hidden inside the walls of the place should have been a warning. But Charles and the other three were all pretty tough-minded about it, and they refused to run away. Which leads to some very interesting complications in Footsteps in the Dark, by Georgette Heyer. The book, published in 1932, was her first mystery novel. Heyer is more often remembered as an author of historical romances, but her mysteries are generally quite well done and thoroughly readable. Certainly that’s the case with Footsteps in the Dark, whose plot really counts more as a classic “thriller,” in the Edgar Wallace tradition, than a puzzle-type mystery.

At the same time, it is set in a country house and gets off to the kind of start we would expect from such a mystery: three siblings – Peter and Margaret Fortescue and their sister, Celia Malcolm – have inherited the crumbling old house, part of a ruined priory, from a recently-deceased relative. There’s no electricity – in fact it sounds like there’s barely any running water – but a certain charm about the place makes the trio, along with Celia’s husband, Charles, eager to live there.

Others in the neighborhood, however, are less pleased to see the new residents, who begin to hear stories about hauntings and ghosts, particularly a rather nasty creature called “the monk.” Several people in town claim to have seen the monk, in his hood and cowl, walking around the grounds of the priory – and it isn’t very long before Charles and the three siblings also begin seeing this mysterious character inside their house. It isn’t helped when, after a series of strange events, they discover a skeleton which had been locked up inside a secret room, within the walls of the house. Things proceed from bad to worse, and eventually, of course, there is a murder. There are also some suspicious strangers hanging around the town pub who may be trying to put pressure on our four central characters to leave the Priory.

What’s really going on here – and why? Is it, in fact, something supernatural? Is the malevolent monk a spirit or a very dangerous human? If those questions sound like the soundtrack to an old-time radio serial, it’s not surprising. As I said, this is very much a thriller. There are some clues, to be sure, that can lead readers to suspect one or another of the characters, but the road to the solution really is reached through scenes of action rather than any really heavy thought on the part of the detectives.

All this, however, may give the wrong impression, so let me make it clear: this is a very witty and charming book. I have seen some of Heyer’s mysteries described as “comedies of manner,” and that really does provide a great description of Footsteps in the Dark. The dialog is very well done, and the characters are generally quite endearing – or, if not always endearing, certainly comic; Heyer has a great deal of fun with the local constable, but manages to avoid making him look like the dull-witted fool that we find in similar stories by lesser writers.

In the end, we are presented with a pretty good solution to the mystery, along with a budding romance between a couple of the major characters. Footsteps in the Dark, by Georgette Heyer, is very light, very frothy, and a pretty quick and enjoyable read.

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You can listen to the complete audio version of this review by clicking here.

Next: Somewhere in the House, by Elizabeth Daly.

"The Allingham Minibus"

As an author, Margery Allingham has long been considered one of the "Crime Queens" of the British Golden Age of Detection. Her novels, most featuring amateur sleuth Albert Campion, are still read and enjoyed by fans. She was also a prolific writer of short stories, some of which were collected into anthologies both before and after her death. One of those collections, first published in 1973 as The Allingham Minibus (also known as Mr. Campion's Lucky Day and Other Stories), has just been re-released in an e-book edition from Agora Books, and the publisher provided me with an advance proof copy for this review. The Allingham Minibus is the subject of my audio review this week on the Classic Mysteries podcast, and you are welcome to listen to the complete review by clicking here.

Fans of Albert Campion should be aware that he is featured in only three of the eighteen stories in this collection. On the other hand, this edition of The Allingham Minibus includes a tribute to Allingham written by Agatha Christie shortly after Allingham's death in 1966, a lovely tribute by one classic mystery writer to another. However, one of the reasons I find Allingham’s stories so appealing is that they are not solely dependent on Campion's presence to succeed. The author was quite versatile, and her flexibility of approach, of subject and of style serves us well in these collections.

The three stories with Campion include two that are so brief as to be really vignettes. The third story, called “The Man With the Sack,” is longer and has more of the gentle humor which may be found in Allingham’s best works, as Mr. Campion gently but firmly, ruins a carefully planned robbery. The other stories in the book range from brief and often eerie tales of mystery to an interesting story called “A Quarter of a Million,” which is really novella length. That one is more of a thriller, with a kidnapping, a theft, and a murder to be solved.

There are also several short stories that cross over to supernatural themes. There are a couple of stories dealing with revenge from beyond the grave; there’s a confrontation with the Devil, and there are others which are less frightening and more moving, but all are written with Allingham’s masterful style as she evokes the people and places that make her stories come alive. There are a few stories that are along the lines of classic puzzle-plot crime fiction, although not all deal with murder. And there are a few which defy being placed easily in stylistic pigeonholes. If you’re looking for a way to spend more time with Margery Allingham’s writings, you’re very likely to enjoy The Allingham Minibus. 

"Death Has Deep Roots"

Why would a woman accused of murder in England, about to go on trial for her life, suddenly insist on changing lawyers?

Victoria Lamartine, once a member of the French resistance fighting against German occupation during World War II, a woman who had managed to escape from the Gestapo and continue fighting, was accused of the murder of Major Eric Thoseby, the man English police said had been her lover and the father of her child. Everyone agreed that she was guilty, the evidence against her was overwhelming. Even her lawyers believed in her guilt, although they were confident that she was more likely to escape the extreme penalty because of the circumstances of the case and the heroism of the accused.

So it came as quite a shock when, two days before her trial was to begin, Victoria Lamartine fired those lawyers. Instead, she hired another solicitor, "Nap" Rumbold because, she insisted, she was innocent of the crime, no matter what the evidence appeared to show - and while that evidence was very powerful indeed she insisted on being defended by a lawyer who believed in her innocence. Nap Rumbold accepted the case. And even as her trial began in London's Old Bailey courtroom, that search for proof took the solicitor and others across to France, for the crime - and its solution - will prove to have very deep roots indeed, stretching back into the violence and tragedy of World War II. It's the subject of Michael Gilbert's Death Has Deep Roots, originally published in 1951 and now being reissued as one of the British Library Crime Classics series. Already available in the U.K., it is being published in the U.S. in a couple of weeks by Poisoned Pen Press, an imprint of Sourcebooks, who sent me an advanced reader's copy for the purposes of this review.  You can listen to the complete review by clicking here.

Over the course of his career, Michael Gilbert, one of the founders of the British Crime Writers' Association, proved himself able to write easily in a variety of sub-genres. This is very much on display in Death Has Deep Roots, which cuts across several of those sub-genres to present a story which held me glued from the beginning all the way through to the last page.

• It is a powerful courtroom drama, set in London’s Old Bailey court, with the life of the defendant at stake.
• It is a thriller, following key members of the defense team as they race against the clock through France, looking for the proof they need and risking their lives against powerful enemies. 
• It is a classic detective story, with a murder to be solved and clues to discover.
• And – to at least some considerable degree – it is a fascinating picture of what life was like in France and in England during and after the brutality of World War II.

Michael Gilbert – who was one of the founders in Britain of the Crime Writers’ Association – was not only a prolific and talented author, he was also a member of a major British law firm, and his courtroom scenes in particular are compelling. He also managed to escape during the war from an Italian prisoner of war camp. In this new British Library Crime Classics edition of Death Has Deep Roots, mystery historian Martin Edwards has provided readers with an excellent introduction to Gilbert and explains how his real life experiences clearly helped him create this unusual tale of murder and suspense. It’s a remarkable book, and I really couldn’t put it down.

"The Mystery of the Peacock's Eye"

Item: a young woman meets a rather dashing gentleman - name unknown - at the glamorous Hunt Ball of Westhampton, where the local near-aristocracy has gathered for what has traditionally been the most socially prominent charity event of the season. She enjoys her dance, but the man won't tell her his name, calling himself only "Mr. X.". At the same time, there are rumors - unconfirmed, to be sure - that some member of European royalty has been enjoying himself - incognito - at the ball.

A few months later, Mr. Anthony Bathurst, private investigator, receives a visitor at his London digs. His guest reveals that he is royalty - Crown Prince Alexis of Clorania. He has come to ask Mr. Bathurst for help uncovering the blackmailer who is threatening the Prince, who is to be married in the near future to the Princess Imogena of Natalia. Or he would be married - unless that pesky blackmailer sends those incriminating photos and letters to the Princess. Mr. Bathurst, in keeping with the traditional role of the gentleman investigator, accepts the commission.

Meanwhile, in the town of Seabourne, a young woman with a severe toothache visits a dentist to have the troublesome tooth extracted.  But while the dentist is out of the room, the young woman is murdered in the dentist’s chair – poisoned by an injection of cyanide. 

Oh - and there is talk of a fabulous jewel, known as the Peacock's Eye, whereabouts uncertain at the moment, which may or may not be involved in the affairs outlined above. You'll find details in The Mystery of the Peacock's Eye, a 1928 Golden Age classic by Brian Flynn. The Mystery of the Peacock's Eye is the subject of today's audio review on the Classic Mysteries podcast, and you can listen to that review by clicking here.

As a result of that murder, Chief Detective-Inspector Richard Bannister is rudely awakened very early one morning. Inspector Bannister is enjoying his vacation at Seabourne when it is interrupted by both the local police and Scotland Yard’s own senior commander: will Inspector. Bannister please cut short his vacation and take over the investigation of this murder, which may have serious international repercussions. Mr. Bannister, closing in on his own retirement from the Yard, reluctantly agrees. And as other crimes are uncovered,  Inspector Bannister will be working very closely with Anthony Bathurst to get to the bottom of a very complicated mystery.

Brian Flynn is the latest hitherto forgotten Golden Age author to be brought back from obscurity through re-publication of many of his mysteries by Dean Street Press. Among the books being re-published you will find The Mystery of the Peacock’s Eye, Flynn’s third mystery to feature his series detective, Anthony Bathurst. Dean Street Press provided me with an electronic copy for this review.

This is a difficult book to talk about because so much of the plot, the characters, the situation – everything, really – is made up of incidents (and people) who will cause most readers to nod knowingly and say, “Of course, I see where this is headed” – and then find out they’ve been expertly misdirected. I admit I’m the kind of reader who delights in being fooled that way, and I found myself forced to kick myself time after time in The Mystery of the Peacock’s Eye, as what had seemed at first like simply another tired cliché situation or character turns out to be something quite unexpected. If you try to imagine a plot concocted by Edgar Wallace, Conan Doyle, Agatha Christie and even Willkie Collins, you might begin to appreciate the mixture awaiting you here.

So if I say that the book reads like a thriller but incorporates a great many classic plot-and-puzzle situations, or I warn against prematurely judging the characters and situations that you will meet in this book, I’ve done about all I can do to protect you from self-inflicted errors without venturing into spoiler territory. This edition also features an informative introduction from mystery historian and blogger Steve Barge. I do think that readers who love the twists and turns of the classic Golden Age mystery will have a very good time with Brian Flynn’s The Mystery of the Peacock’s Eye. 

 

 

"N or M?"

With World War II well under way, and much of England mobilized to defend the homeland, it was perhaps understandable that Tommy and Tuppence Beresford were feeling frustrated over their inability to persuade the Powers That Be to use them for something that could help in the war effort. Quite clearly, they were too old, too unqualified to really be much use to anyone.

And then they are visited by a senior British intelligence officer who wants Tommy to undertake a difficult and quite probably dangerous undercover operation: discover the identities and whereabouts of two senior German spies, known to be operating in Britain. Dangerous? Well, yes; in fact, as the intelligence officer explains, one of the top British counter-agents has just been killed by a hit-and-run driver - and it was, quite clearly, no accident. The only real clue was a message left by the dying officer that seemed to indicate that two senior-level German spies known only as "N" and "M" - one man, one woman - were somehow involved in a mysterious plot centered around an English seaside resort called the Sans Souci. Finding the spies was to be a job only for Tommy; it was deemed too dangerous for Tuppence - or so they thought until Tommy reached the Sans Souci and found Tuppence had beaten him there and was staying there incognito. And, as the pair quickly discover, there is indeed something being plotted at the Sans Souci that could have a critical impact on the war. But who, among the people staying at or living near the Sans Souci are the spies?

Recognize the symptoms? We're talking about Agatha Christie's wartime thriller, N or M?, featuring Tommy and Tuppence Beresford, who appear in just four of Christie's novels and a book of short stories. Originally published in 1941, near the low point of the war, it is the subject of today's audio review on the Classic Mysteries podcast. You can listen to the entire review by clicking here. It’s a story line that may sound far-fetched to some – but it is one which, in those dark years when war was spreading over Europe, would certainly resonate with readers. It is written with Christie’s usual style and wit very much in evidence. There is much to enjoy in N or M? and I do recommend it to you.

 

From the Vault: "Night of the Jabberwock"

I'm pretty sure that readers who enjoy some of the great classics of science fiction are already familiar with the name of Fredric Brown. I have particularly fond memories of several of his SF classics, such as Martians, Go Home. But I'm also fond of Brown as a mystery author. And, as a fan of Lewis Carroll, and the Alice in Wonderland books in general, I generally try to re-read one of my favorite Fredric Brown mysteries, Night of the Jabberwock, every few years. It's funny, medium-to-hard-boiled, and I think its plot is both unique and brilliant. It's not always available in the marketplace, but - as of May, 2019 - it looks like it's out there at least as an e-book. So here's what I had to say about Night of the Jabberwock when I reviewed it on the Classic Mysteries podcast several years ago. I've updated the information about the book's availability, but otherwise it's pretty much as I first wrote and recorded it.

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`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

I’m sure you recognize that bit of nonsense verse. It’s the opening of Lewis Carroll’s poem “Jabberwocky,” from the second Alice in Wonderland book, Through the Looking Glass. The poem goes on:

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!"

Inspired nonsense, to be sure, in Carroll’s poem, a kind of nonsense version of a heroic epic, as a young man goes out to conquer the jabberwock, the mythical monster of the poem.

But…what if. What if that wasn’t nonsense at all? What if there was something strange – and definitely monstrous – behind that poem? Suppose somebody offered to show you proof that the nightmare behind the poem was real?

That’s the opening gambit for one of my favorite mysteries, Night of the Jabberwock, by Fredric Brown.

Let me make one important point right at the outset: Night of the Jabberwock is not a fantasy book. Although the author, Fredric Brown, wrote both science fiction and mysteries, this book has no fantasy involved, despite what I said at the beginning of this review. What it DOES have is a marvelous premise – a willingness to lead the reader along and lure him or her into a fantastic plot. And it is a traditional mystery, with plenty of clues for the reader about what is really happening – a book which really ventures into a hard-boiled mystery with some overtones of noir built around what, at its core, is a traditional mystery.

Here’s the setup: the hero of the book is a man named Doc Stoeger, who is the editor of the weekly Carmel Clarion newspaper. On one particular Thursday night – the night when the paper is edited and locked down, to be printed Friday morning, Stoeger is complaining about the fact that there is absolutely no news in the paper. Just once, he says, it would be nice to have some real news to report.

Well, it’s always wise to be careful what you wish for.

Doc Stoeger – who is, by the way, a huge fan of Lewis Carroll (and given to quoting him in bar rooms) – is approached by a mysterious little man, who tells him that fantastic story I outlined at the beginning – saying, in fact, that the fantasies of  Lewis Carroll are not fantasies at all. And the man invites Doc Stoeger to a meeting late that night to demonstrate the truth of the story he’s telling.

That’s the beginning of what will be an incredible night for Doc Stoeger. Before it ends, there will be several murders and a run-in with some particularly brutal killers. And Doc will have more than enough news for his newspaper the next morning – if he can stay alive long enough to write it. Because, his survival is by no means guaranteed.

As I said earlier, this isn’t a fantasy. There is a rational explanation and reason for everything that happens and every complication that draws Doc Stoeger deeper and deeper into the nightmarish plot. And that explanation, those reasons, are well and fairly clued for the reader.

But if you’re at all like me, you’ll find things are happening so fast that it’s almost impossible to figure out the twists in this marvelous plot before they happen. It’s a short book – you can probably read it in one sitting – maybe two, if you can find a place where you’re willing to break off your reading for the night.

[Ed. note: the following information has been updated to reflect availability as of mid-May, 2019.]

Night of the Jabberwock is available currently in e-book format - at least as a .MOBI file for the Kindle. There appear to be at least a few copies of various paperback editions, for those who might prefer a hard copy of the book. Is it a traditional mystery? A hard-boiled one? Noir? It really defies easy definition. What you’ll find, I think, is that Fredric Brown’s Night of the Jabberwock is an absolutely first-rate mystery – and one that will stay in your memory long after you finish reading it.

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You can listen to the original podcast review by clicking here.

Next: The Clocks, by Agatha Christie.

From the Vault: "The Man in the Brown Suit"

When we think of Agatha Christie, we usually think first of her whodunits - especially those with one of her two primary detective characters, Hercule Poirot or Miss Marple. While these books are usually quite well written, with excellent puzzles to be solved, Christie also wrote a pretty good number of "stand-alone" crime stories in a variety of styles. Some were pretty dark, such as And Then There Were None. And some were straightforward adventure stories - fast-moving thrillers, which we can read just for fun. Thrillers such as The Man in the Brown Suit. It should be read with a sort of guilty pleasure at enjoying a really entertaining tale that keeps delivering surprises and pleasure all the way to the end. It was the subject of one of my audio reviews for the Classic Mysteries podcast about eight years ago. Here (somewhat edited) is what I had to say about it:

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It is generally wise to be careful what you wish for. A young Englishwoman, Anne Beddingfield, always wished for a bit more adventure in her life. Then one day, in a London underground station, she sees a man fall to his death on the tracks. And she sees something else: a rather suspicious man, claiming to be a doctor, who examines the victim’s body and then disappears. And that’s just the beginning of the events which are about to sweep her into what is nearly too much adventure. Somehow, it all seems to involve that mysterious doctor…whom Anne can only describe as…The Man in the Brown Suit…the name of the book by Agatha Christie which we’ll discuss today.

The Man in the Brown Suit is very early Agatha Christie – only her fifth book, published in 1924. It’s not a series book – it was written as a stand-alone thriller. And it is one of the most good-natured, enjoyable thrillers you’re ever likely to read.

The heroine is a young woman, Anne Beddingfield, recently orphaned and close enough to penniless as makes no difference. She is trying to figure out what to do with her life, chafing at the likelihood of having to take up some form of drudge-work to pay the bills. If only there were some kind of adventure in the offing – something like those Perils-of-Pauline type thrillers she sees in the movies.

Well, Anne gets her excitement, all right.

First, she happens to witness that death in the London underground. Then she becomes aware of a peculiar murder that may have been tied to that death – tied through the appearance of that mysterious “man in the brown suit.”

Anne winds up on a ship headed for South Africa…only to find that her cabin has been ransacked. There is a determined effort made to throw her overboard. And she finds herself falling in love with a mysterious stranger – who wanders into her cabin after having been stabbed, but who quickly disappears again. And behind it all, apparently, is a mysterious master-criminal called simply “The Colonel.” Oh, and did I mention some missing diamonds? Or arms smuggling to some rebels in South Africa? Or the kidnapping…more than once…of our heroine?

Confused yet? It requires all of Agatha Christie’s considerable skill to keep the different story threads separate and distinct in our minds, but she does so with the usual doses of Christie wit and good humor. There are plots and counter-plots galore. The story is told by two narrators – one of them is Anne herself, the other narrative is taken from the diary of one of Anne’s fellow travelers, Sir Eustace Pedler, who finds himself drawn into Anne’s stories and travails for a variety of reasons. And while it’s certainly written as a thriller, don’t forget that it’s also a murder mystery. And, as usual, Christie provides clues for the alert reader, though you’ll probably be too busy trying to keep up with Anne’s adventures to realize when the author drops her hints. And the characters are memorable – and varied. In addition to Anne, and Sir Eustace, and that mysterious young man, there’s a Colonel Race, who may be on some obscure mission of his own. There’s a wealthy society woman who befriends Anne. There’s a rather unusual clergyman who may not be a clergyman at all. There are Sir Eustace’s two secretaries (soon to be joined by a third). And there’s a nice assortment of secondary villains, all of them controlled by the mysterious and elusive master-villain known as “The Colonel.”

It’s quite a collection, and the pace of the story never slows. It’s a virtuoso performance from a still very-young Agatha Christie who displays really breathtaking skills in weaving all of this together into a coherent (if, frankly, somewhat incredible) story. And, as I observed earlier, it manages to maintain an atmosphere that is bright and cheerful, for all the evil deeds being carried out in the plot. Anne Beddingfield is a delightful heroine, and if she does get a bit more adventure than perhaps is good for her, she certainly triumphs in the end. As for the other characters…well, you’ll just have to read it to find out for yourself. The last time I checked, The Man in the Brown Suit was available in several editions, including print, e-book and audio formats.  I’m sure that both your favorite mystery bookseller and Amazon will have no difficulty finding it for you. It’s great fun and really shouldn’t be missed.

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You can listen to the original audio review by clicking here.

Next: The Penguin Book of Victorian Women in Crime, edited by Michael Sims

From the Vault: "More Work for the Undertaker"

I've spent some time i the past few weeks talking with friends about one of the great "crime queens" of the Golden Age, Margery Allingham. One of the reasons why I enjoy so many of her books is that - when you read one for the first time - you can never be quite sure what kind of book you're reading, as Allingham wrote crime fiction ranging from "pure" detective stories to thrillers to "psychological" dramas, and she tackled all the genres extremely well. Her detective, Albert Campion, who appears in most of her books, is a delight to know. I realize that I haven't featured very many of Allingham's books on the Classic Mysteries podcast, and I hope to work some of the novels which I haven't reviewed here yet into our schedule as we go along. For today, I'd like to share with you an engaging combination of traditional puzzle-plot mystery and thriller called More Work for the Undertaker, which I reviewed here about eight years ago. Here's the text of that review, edited somewhat, mostly to update with information about the book's availability.

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Interesting people, the Palinode family. Eccentric, to be sure – what’s a good British family in a mystery without some eccentricities? Very poor, too – in fact, they were reduced to living as boarders in the house they used to own. But they still were interesting and engaging people. So why has someone been poisoning them? Unless Albert Campion can come up with an answer, there’s likely to be More Work for the Undertaker – the title of Margery Allingham’s book which we’ll be discussing today.

Margery Allingham is still regarded today as one of the so-called “crime queens” of Britain’s Golden Age of Detection. More Work for the Undertaker originally appeared in 1949, putting it just after that Golden Age, but it remains one of Allingham’s most interesting and enjoyable books.

At the heart of the book is the Palinode family, five elderly siblings and a young niece who have come down in the world. They used to own their house, in the days when their father, a professor, and his wife, a poetess, used to host literary gatherings. The house has been taken over now by an elderly variety actress, Renee Roper, who has allowed the Palinodes to stay on as more-or-less paying boarders.

When two of the Palinodes die suddenly, of course, Renee is horrified, particularly when poison is suspected. She ultimately persuades an old acquaintance – Allingham’s detective, Albert Campion – to move into the house as a boarder, the better to investigate. This comes as a huge relief to the police as well, who have been unable to make sense out of the case.

What Campion quickly discovers is that there is something very peculiar going on in the neighborhood of the Palinode’s house – a quiet little street called Apron Street. The police do not understand it, but quite a number of London’s professional gangsters and thieves appear to have developed a powerful fear of something in the neighborhood, expressed as a warning not to go up Apron Street. And it will only be by uncovering that mystery that Campion will be able to solve the riddle of why someone should want to kill members of the seemingly harmless Palinode family.

There are murderous attacks and a strange suicide, not to mention the occasional poisoning. But while there is a great deal of action in this book, it is the characters who make it one of Allingham’s best. Not only Campion himself, and his friend, Renee Roper, and the fascinating Palinodes. Campion’s valet-and-factotum-and-general aide, named Magersfontein Lugg, also plays a central role here. And there is a local undertaker with the unfortunate name of James Bowels, who seems to have stepped out of the pages of a Dickens novel. There’s a local doctor, henpecked by his wife, and the local druggist, who plays another key part here. Police detective inspector Charlie Luke – who will appear in many of the later Campion books – makes his first appearance here. In addition, there is a coffin which rather unnervingly appears and disappears at odd times. And there is a final, fantastic chase – up Apron Street, if you will – with police pursuing a horse-drawn coffin brake, a cart designed to carry a coffin. All of this is told with quiet humor – but with a serious undercurrent, a sense of something not quite right and very dangerous.

It is all fantastic, to be sure, but Allingham, as always, carries it off with aplomb. I find her writing here has the ability to take my breath away; she catches moments and pins them in a few words that make unforgettable portraits.

Let me give you a few examples:

Here’s Charlie Luke, describing the street to Campion:

The district’s gone down like a drunk in thirty years, and the Palinodes with it.

Here’s Campion, in the midst of a very peculiar conversation with one of the elderly Palinodes:

He felt that, intellectually speaking, he was having a conversation with someone at the other end of a circular tunnel, and was in fact standing directly back to back with her. On the other hand, of course, it was possible that he had become Alice in Wonderland.

And how about this description, again of an older woman:

She laughed at him and another few years slid off her age.

Or this one:

She was very small and the rags of attractiveness hung round her like dead petals.

I realize that these are all out of context and probably don’t mean much on first hearing. What matters is that they are quite typical of the kind of fine writing and really amazing descriptions you’ll find on nearly every page of More Work for the Undertaker. It’s a wonderful story, and the secret of Apron Street is quite likely to elude you until the final explanation is given. Campion, Luke and Lugg are all at their finest here, and Allingham’s other characters will charm you, horrify you, sometimes both. She’s a fine writer, and More Work for the Undertaker is Allingham at her best. [Updated: Agora Books has re-released paperback and e-book versions, and there's also an audio version readily available.]

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You can listen to the complete original podcast version of the review by clicking here.

Next: The Man in the Brown Suit, by Agatha Christie.