"Sometimes you learn something you don't know is important until, when it fits in with everything else, it turns out to be the key piece of the puzzle."- Ed Baer (Herbert Resnicow's The Dead Room, 1987)
A month ago, I posted a review of
Clifford Orr's second and last published mystery novel, The
Wailing Rock Murders (1932), once a rare and highly collectible item,
but has since been reissued by Coachwhip
as a twofer edition alongside his genre debut – a college-set detective story
entitled The Dartmouth Murders (1929). I did not want to wait too long
with eliminating this two-in-one volume from the Big Pile. So here's the
blog-post that’ll complete my overview of Orr's short-lived stint as a mystery
novelist.
The Dartmouth Murders was published in the same year as Ellery Queen's prize-winning debut novel, The Roman Hat Mystery (1929), which introduced the eponymous series-character of Ellery Queen and his policeman father, Inspector Richard Queen of the New York Police Department. A remarkable coincidence for a number of reasons.
First of all, The Dartmouth Murders also had a father and son poking around in a murder case in a semi-official capacity. Secondly, the father from Orr's novel, Joe Harris, is an amateur criminologist who authored several "so-called detective stories," which happens to be a pretty apt description of Ellery Queen – especially of his early incarnation from the international series. Finally, the victims from both books were missing a particular article of clothing: one of them was found in a theatre without his top hat, while the other had last been seen wearing a stripped pajama, but was found clad in a blue, rain-slicked pajama. So it was quite a coincidence these books were rolling off the press around roughly the same time (give or take a few months).
The Dartmouth Murders was published in the same year as Ellery Queen's prize-winning debut novel, The Roman Hat Mystery (1929), which introduced the eponymous series-character of Ellery Queen and his policeman father, Inspector Richard Queen of the New York Police Department. A remarkable coincidence for a number of reasons.
First of all, The Dartmouth Murders also had a father and son poking around in a murder case in a semi-official capacity. Secondly, the father from Orr's novel, Joe Harris, is an amateur criminologist who authored several "so-called detective stories," which happens to be a pretty apt description of Ellery Queen – especially of his early incarnation from the international series. Finally, the victims from both books were missing a particular article of clothing: one of them was found in a theatre without his top hat, while the other had last been seen wearing a stripped pajama, but was found clad in a blue, rain-slicked pajama. So it was quite a coincidence these books were rolling off the press around roughly the same time (give or take a few months).
I was also surprised how few
father-and-son detective teams followed in footsteps of the Queens and the
Harrises. I'm sure there are a few of them, but I can honestly think of only
two examples: Porterfield and Andy Adams from Robert
Arthur's marvelous "The Mystery of the Three Blind Mice," which can be
found in Alfred Hitchcock's Solve-Them-Yourself Mysteries (1963) and Mystery
and More Mystery (1966). And then there are Ed and Warren Baer from
Herbert Resnicow's The
Dead Room (1987) and The
Hot Place (1990).
So far my shallow observations about the similarities between these two mysteries and now that I cut through all of the extraneous stuff, lets finally take a jab at the book itself.
So far my shallow observations about the similarities between these two mysteries and now that I cut through all of the extraneous stuff, lets finally take a jab at the book itself.
The Dartmouth Murders is told from the perspective of its main character, Kenneth "Ken"
Harris, who is called away by his father from a fall house party on campus with
the request to fetch from a hotel so he can spend the weekend with him – which
takes a lot longer than planned. When he finally returned to the dormitory, "the
clock on Dartmouth Hall was just striking three across the campus," he
found the door to the dorm room he shared with his best friend locked and
deadly silent. Nobody answered his knocking. So he decided to crash in Charlie
Penlon's room on the floor below, but his sleep is repeatedly disturbed by the
sound of dull thuds against the window.
Kenneth finally ran up the window shade
and saw the thumping came from two bare feet: the body of his best friend and
roommate, Byron Coates, was hanging by his neck from the rope fire-escape that
had been tossed out of their window. Back in those days, the fire escape could
be a thick, stout piece of rope you had to slide down from in case of a house
fire, but the rope is the first indication that Byron was murdered. A rope the
size of the fire escape, "which must be large enough for a hand grip,"
is unfit for hanging and the bruises under the rope suggest Byron "was dead
before it was even tied around his blessed neck." The final piece of
evidence is a very peculiar murder weapon that is found inside his body during
the post-mortem examination. An "instrument of death" that's used almost
immediately after the first murder when a student suddenly drops dead in the
college chapel during a service.
The second death in the chapel came very
close to being an impossible crime, but Orr never went the full distance with
it. However, the method he employed did anticipate one of John
Dickson Carr's earlier Sir Henry Merrivale novels, published as by "Carter
Dickson," which demonstrated how this strange murder weapon could be used to
stage a full-fledged impossible crime – which makes for an interesting link
between both authors. However, the subsequent investigation is a bit of a hit
and a miss for various reasons.
Joe Harris practically takes over the
entire investigation from the local sheriff, Ad Barker, who refuses to play the
role of "the blundering up-county constable" that populate detective
fiction and eagerly cooperates with the criminologist. This effectively gives
Joe and Kenneth a free hand to act as they wish, which leads to some unusual
developments: a "ghost" who looked like one of the victim was seen fleeing the
chapel and Kenneth slowly begins to suspect that his father might be personally
involved in the case. Why else would there be a photograph of his father in the
picture album of the Coates family?
All of these developments and Orr's ability to spin a good yarn keeps the reader engaged, but the plot begins to shake and rattle as the final chapter begins to loom on the horizon.
All of these developments and Orr's ability to spin a good yarn keeps the reader engaged, but the plot begins to shake and rattle as the final chapter begins to loom on the horizon.
The truth behind the college murders is
firmly rooted in Byron's muddled family history. A history he learned about in
a missing letter he received from his mother on the eve of his twenty-first
birthday, which contained the motive for his murder, but you can hardly work
out the (full) identity of the murderer from all of this information – even when
you finally learn the content of the letter. I actually suspected the local inn
keeper, because his personal ties to one of the students gave him a
motive-by-proxy, but the eventual solution was an even less inspired play on
the least-likely-suspect gambit. So that aspect of the plot left something to be
desired. Still, I found it to be a well-written detective novel and loved the journey to that final chapter.
So, all in all, The Dartmouth Murders is a dark, moody tale of murder and hidden motives, which is noteworthy for being one of the first college-set mysteries, but plot-wise, the book is standard fare for the period. I agree with Curt Evans, who wrote an introduction for this twofer edition, that Orr's second detective novel, The Wailing Rock Murders, is "an altogether more original work."
So, all in all, The Dartmouth Murders is a dark, moody tale of murder and hidden motives, which is noteworthy for being one of the first college-set mysteries, but plot-wise, the book is standard fare for the period. I agree with Curt Evans, who wrote an introduction for this twofer edition, that Orr's second detective novel, The Wailing Rock Murders, is "an altogether more original work."
I love mysteries set in the campus. Would look out for this one.
ReplyDeleteIf you like college mysteries, I also have to point your attention to the excellent Death and the Maiden by Q. Patrick. It gives you both the college setting and a first-rate plot.
DeleteThere's this one story I've heard alot of good things about called The Secret History by Donna Tartt (somewhere translated as Gods celebrate at night). Not sure if it's worth reading though as it's 600 pages, and the victim and plot are clear since the beginning. I guess it could really be one of the most dry books ever also. Someone (a reviewer I think) said that the 2nd half of 300 pages of the book is a drawn-out epilogue, but it's hailed as one of the great stories when it comes to seeing how everything unfolds.
ReplyDeleteSounds very unappealing to someone who likes to have a plot in his mystery.
DeleteI recall enjoying this one more than 'Wailing Rocks' as I preferred the college milieu. But yes, I wasn't persuaded that the solution made this a fair-play novel.
ReplyDeleteThe college setting is the biggest draw of the book, but the plot The Wailing Rock Murders was, without doubt, the better detective story of the two. But a good call on the side of the publisher to make it a twofer edition!
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