The Murder of Cecily
Thane (1930) is Harriette
Ashbrook's debut as a mystery novelist that simultaneously
launched the career of her dilettante detective, Philip "Spike"
Tracy, who's a lighthearted, irreverent reflection of S.S.
van Dine's Philo Vance – leading only seven of Ashbrook's dozen
detective-and suspense novels. Spike makes a memorable entrance.
The Murder of Cecily
Thane opens with Spike's older brother, District Attorney R.
Montgomery Tracy, wondering out-loud why God allows his troublesome
younger brother to live. Or why his little brother lacked the good
sense to get himself arrested "in some place besides New York."
Spike had been taken into custody on a charge of being drunk and
disorderly. So his older brother had to come down town to bail him
out.
Ashbrook briefly
explained why there's such a stark difference, in personalities and
life philosophy, between the Tracy brothers.
R. Montgomery Tracy grew
up under "the stern Purnitan rule" of his father, which,
combined with an occupation entrenched in "the majesty of the
law," gave him a humorless disposition and life, he felt, was
"not to be taken lightly" – a mirror opposite of his
carefree brother. Mrs. Tracy had enough of her husband Puritanism and
picked up her youngest son, Spike, and went to Europe. So he grew up
as "a charming hybrid," half American and half
continental, who lived an utterly useless, but infinitely amusing,
existence. A careless lifestyle backed with "the unceasing flow
of dollars from the paternal estate."
So, to nobody's surprise,
they ended up with clashing personalities and their verbal exchanges
("Philip, I refuse to permit such levity") reminded me of
Rex
Stout's Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin (who first appeared in
Fer-de-Lance, 1934).
Montgomery dreads that
every "damned paper in town" will plaster the story of
Spike's arrest on the front page, which comes on the back of
editorials chiding him that has three unsolved murders on his desk.
And he had been on his way to the scene of another murder when he had
to get his brother out of jail. A murder that promises to be a real
headline grabber.
Cecily Thane is the wife
of a well-known jewel merchant, Elton Thane, who amassed a small
fortune as an importer of rare, precious gems which had once "adorned
the now defunct crowns of Europe" and Cecily had quite a
collection of jewelry – worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Cecily's body was found in the bedroom of their brownstone, shot
through the heart, with the door of the private wall safe standing
wide open. An estimated "$200,000 worth of diamonds, emeralds
and pearls" had been taken from the safe!
Interestingly, Mr. Thane
allowed Cecily to engage a professional gigolo, Tommy Spencer, twice
a week to take her to dances, parties and the theater. Something Mr.
Thane didn't care about at all. However, it turns out Spencer was
involved in an identical murder, the Schlockenhass case, which had
"stirred the city six months before" under different name.
A simple, or so it appears, because the house was "simply
teeming" with people who had "no particular fancy" for Cecily on the night of her murder. There's her estranged brother,
George Griffis. A very old friend and his daughter, Mortimer and Nina
Fennel, who had their private reason for hating Cecily. And even her
husband is revealed to have had a gem of a motive.
So, when Spike learns his
brother has "a murder on the pan," he decides to cancel
his elk-hunting trip, to British Columbia, and stay in New York to
hunt a murderer instead ("much better sport") –
accompanying his brother as an unofficial observer. A vivacious Spike
embarks on his first murder case in "a jolly spirit of fun,"
but everyone soon discovers there's "a quickness of perception"
under his cheerfully irresponsible exterior.
Spike's airy comments
about the construction workers outside the house, his strange
behavior with the lipstick at the crime scene and fiddling with the
pillows on the chaise lounge all turn out to have an important
bearing on the case. Slowly, but surely, he not only wins the trust
and respect of his older brother, but even Inspector Herschman slowly
has to adjust his an opinion on Spike. An opinion Herschmen expressed
with letting Spike know that the only reason he hadn't thrown into
the Hudson River, with a five-hundred pound boulder tied to his feet,
is the fact that he's the District Attorney's kid brother.
The Murder of Cecily
Thane is a more breezily written detective novel than my two
previous reads by Ashbrook, The
Murder of Sigurd Sharon (1933) and Murder
Makes Murder (1937), which were much closer to the
psychological-driven mysteries by Helen
McCloy. They also had knottier and original plots. By comparison,
The Murder of Cecily Thane is an ultra-conventional with an
ultimately simplistic plot that owes some debt to Van Dine's The
Benson Murder Case (1926). But even when being highly
conventional, Ashbrook couldn't help herself but show flashes of
ingenuity.
One of the clues is
reproduced in the book and, as John Norris pointed out in "The
Detective Novels of Harriette Ashbrook," this is kind of an
interactive clue allowing the reader to study the clue in exactly the
same way as Spike did. A very innovative idea for the 1930s.
Secondly, there's a cleverly done, tricky alibi worthy of Christopher
Bush.
So, all in all, The
Murder of Cecily Thane is a pretty solid and promising debut from
a talented mystery writer who, inexplicably, never got the
acknowledgment she deserved. Recommended as a lighthearted take on
the Van Dine-Queen School of detective fiction.
I wanted to save the
remaining three Spike Tracy novels, The Murder of Stephen Kester
(1931), Murder Comes Back (1940) and The Purple Onion
Mystery (1941), for next year, but might sneak in one more before
the end of the year.
I've read The Purple Onion Mystery. Extemely dull and plodding, bordering the ridiculous with Tracy proceeding to interrogate reluctant suspects with no authority whatsoever, confessing them that he's not a policeman when asked for credentials, and, incredibly, with suspects accepting then to answer his questions. Utterly unbelievable and Very disappointing.
ReplyDeleteWhat a poor attempt to be a naysayer and contrarian. I find it hard to believe that Ashbrook ever wrote a dull and plodding mystery. Have you no sense of humor? While I'm about to dig into PURPLE ONION... for the first time in a few days I can say unequivocally having read eight of Ashbrook's books under her own name and her Susannah Shane pen name that I was never once disappointed. I was certainly NEVER bored. Most murder mysteries "border on the ridiculous" and are more fantasies than gritty realistic police procedurals. They are filled with characters who do exactly what you complain about. Amateur detectives are just that! Miss Marple did nothing but prod and poke and question people "with no authority whatsoever."
DeleteI can accept you found The Purple Onion Mystery extremely dull, plodding and bordering on ludicrous, but have to side with John regarding your criticism of the amateur detective. This is how practically all amateur sleuths without official standing operate (unless they're tagging along with their police friends).
DeleteHowever, you're not alone in your opinion. I remembered reading a negative review, but was unable to find it and a search revealed that it was actually a comment by Mike Grost, posted on Mystery File, saying "I read Ashbrook's The Purple Onion Mystery. Thought it was awful... never wrote an article for my history-of-mystery website."
So perhaps Ashrbook was contractual obliged to write The Purple Onion Mystery, because, by 1941, she was already writing suspense thrillers as Susannah Shane.
That being said, I can forgive a mediocre ending to the series in the light of what has come before.