"There is a distinct difference between having an open mind and having a hole in your head from which your brain leaks out."- James Randi
Only a few days ago, I reviewed The
Pleasure Cruise Mystery (1933) by Robin Forsythe, which was recently
summoned from its perennial slumber in the dark abyss, commonly referred to
around these parts as "biblioblivion," by publisher Rupert Heath and
genre-historian Curt Evans –
who furnished all of the Dean
Street Press editions with insightful introductions. I was sufficiently
pleased with my introduction to Forsythe's work that I wanted to read another
one of his mysteries as soon as possible.
I was torn between The Ginger Cat
Mystery (1935) and The Spirit Murder Mystery (1936), but settled in
the end on the latter because I found the synopsis to be enticing.
Surprisingly, the plot turned out to contain an impossible situation or two
that were overlooked by Robert Adey in Locked Room Murders (1991).
These seemingly impossible situations are
presented as supernatural phenomenon and occur at Old Hall Farm, situated in
the village of Yarham, where John Thurlow lives in the company of his niece,
Eileen – an ardent devotee and practitioner of spiritualism.
John is naturally "skeptical and
cautious," preferring a scientific approach, but has become a tentative
believer after "quite a lot of persuasion and study." He would love to
experience the "spirit music," which was heard by Eileen in the old
house that was "impregnated with the spirit of the bygone" and "bore
the indelible imprint of the activities and designs of people since dead and
forgotten" – leading to an experimental séance during which the eerie
sounds of organ music are heard. A sensible and natural explanation for the
spectral music proved to be as elusive as the ghosts themselves.
Old Hall Farm was not equipped with a
wireless or a gramophone, which were both deemed by John as a "damned
annoying contraption," and the church is a mile away. So where did the
ghostly bars of music emanated from?
However, there a more pressing,
Earth-bound questions raised directly after the séance. John Thurlow appears to
have stepped out of the window of his study and simply vanished, but a more
baffling problem presents itself the following day: the remains of Thurlow and
Mr. Clarry Martin were found on a piece of wasteland called "Cobbler's Corner."
Thurlow had his skull bashed in and Martin had been shot, but physical evidence
precluded the possibility that they had murdered each other.
A gentleman-painter and amateur detective
of some repute, named Anthony "Algernon" Vereker, happened to be in the
neighborhood to sketch and paint, but a double-murder is as good an excuse as
any to take a break from the artistic process.
Vereker's private enquiry looks into
every person who orbited the lives of Eileen and the John Thurlow, which
included a twenty-six-year old widow, Mrs. Button, who was still known locally
as Miss Dawn Garford and the dead men were both vying for her affection. Arthur
Orton rented the next-door property from Thurlow, called Church Farm, and he
showed a great interest in both Eileen and the property, which might have given
a double motive. Ephraim Noy is a mysterious individual who lives alone in a
new bungalow and "about as communicative as a brick wall," but may have
shared a "youthful indiscretion" with Thurlow in British India – which
involved an Indian dancing girl and her murdered husband. And then there is the
local amateur archaeologist, Rev. William Sturgeon, who's exploring a crypt and
underground vault for King John's treasure.
On an unrelated side-note, King John's
treasure was a major plot-thread in a historical mystery novel I read last
year: The
Song of a Dark Angel (1994) by Paul
Doherty. Just so you know.
Anyway, Vereker alternates his role as an
amateur detective with that of a ghost-hunter and personally experiences some
of the ghostly events at Old Hall Farm, but the most interesting occurrence is
the poltergeist activity in the late Thurlow's study: Eileen "heard the
sound of footsteps" in the study and discovered upon inspection that "chairs,
ornaments, clocks and the little table had all been moved," but all the
doors and windows were securely locked and fastened!
Unfortunately, the explanation for all of
these apparently supernatural and impossible situations was even in the
mid-1930s very dated and "rather moth-eaten," which makes it advisable
to not read The Spirit Murder Mystery as an impossible crime novel. You
might end up disappointed if you do. However, in spite of that, Forsythe wrings
an unusual and still fresh explanation from this extremely dated and moth-eaten
plot device, which showed the same streaks of originality that was so prevalent
in The Pleasure Cruise Mystery. The explanation for the gunshot wound
was perhaps one coincidence too much and more consideration (and time) could've
been given to the circumstances in which the bodies were found (i.e. cause of
death), but I found them minor drawbacks in what was a wholly enjoyable detective
story.
So, in the end, I think I preferred The
Pleasure Cruise Mystery to The Spirit Murder Mystery, but,
regardless of some flaws in the latter, I begin to become very fond of
Forsythe. I don't think I'll allow his other books to linger much longer on my
TBR-pile. There are only three of them left and then I still have three
non-series to look forward to, which I'm sure will be reprinted sooner or later
by the Dean Street Press.
Anthony "Algernon" Vereker series:
Missing or Murdered (1929)
The Polo Ground Mystery (1932)
The Pleasure Cruise Mystery (1933)
The Ginger Cat Mystery (1935)
The Spirit Murder Mystery (1936)
The standalone series:
The Hounds of Justice (1930)
The Poison Duel (1934)
Murder on
Paradise Island (1937)
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