Riddle of a Lady (1956) by Anthony Gilbert

Last month, I reviewed the recently reprinted The Tragedy at Freyne (1927) by "Anthony Gilbert," a pseudonym of Lucy Malleson, which was the first novel to appear under that name and introduced her first, short-lived series detective, Scott Egerton – a rising politician who appeared in ten mysteries. Gilbert replaced Scott Egerton with a shady, scheming and relentlessly amusing London lawyer named Arthur Crook. A delightful character often likened to Carter Dickson's Sir Henry Merrivale or his American counterparts like John J. Malone or Perry Mason. Gilbert also knew her way around a plot with her best novels (e.g. The Clock in the Hat Box, 1939) coming close to rivaling those of Agatha Christie. Gilbert stuck with Crook from his first appearance in Murder by Experts (1936) to the posthumously published A Nice Little Killing (1974).

The Tragedy at Freyne was a better than average 1920s mystery novel, but it reminded me that a return to Arthur Crook series was long overdue. So picked one that sounded promising and it didn't let me down!

Riddle of a Lady (1956) is the 31st novel in the Arthur Crook series and starts out as an inverted detective story. Henry Greatorex hails from a family of London lawyers, but his casual, frivolous attitude to life and his work was "an intolerable thorn in the side of his sober half-brothers," Richard and Charles Greatorex – who opened the the Beckfield branch in "to provide a niche" for their younger brother. Not expecting too much, Henry had nonetheless flourished with his light attitude to life proving to be "the equivalent of what, in doctors, is known as a bedside manner" ("Henry had it to perfection"). That was twenty years ago. Riddle of a Lady begins with Henry and his staff treating themselves to an anniversary luncheon. Henry is a little grayer, but no less vital as he intends to marry the much younger Beverley Carr. Just one problem. Henry, "wicked old Henry, the bachelor but surely not the celibate," has a mistress setup in a little house, in Hallett Street, where he has been visiting her regularly for the past five years.

Stella Foster, "the deserted married woman who has never sued for divorce and is no longer in a position to do so," refuses to let Henry go without a fight. Even waving a revolver in his face and promising that, as long as she lives, he won't take anyone else to church. If he does, she'll be waiting outside to shoot her.

So the idea of murder entered Henry's mind, "it wouldn't be murder, he reflected, but suicide by proxy." And, before too long, the reader finds Henry standing over the body of Stella Foster and beating a hasty retreat through the backdoor with the intention in keeping very quiet. Stella knew him as Henry Browne and there were no letters, or anything else to connect the two, but the methodical police eventually gather enough evidence and witnesses to identify him – getting detained and arranged for trial. Arthur Crook is called on the defend him or prevent the case from going to trail at all, which is easier said than done. But not for a lack of potential suspects. Riddle of a Lady is not the classic story of the eternal triangle, but an infernal revolving door as Stella had a string of lovers and visitors on the night of her murder ("really, she might as well hang a red light over the door").

Arthur Crook appeared briefly in the opening stages and mentioned several times, but shines as a lawyer-detective, "my clients are always innocent or they wouldn't be my clients," in the second-half. The all-important question is, of course, whether Crook's client really is innocent or the author is playing a game of bluff poker with the genre savvy reader. A very well-played game, either way, especially considering Riddle of a Lady is ultimately a sordid crime story. Crook called it "a not particularly edifying common-or-garden story" and the murderer's identity is a bit of a letdown, but the fireworks preceding it was superb! Crook gathered together all the suspects to mercilessly break down their alibis in order to erect cases against them in dazzling succession. And continues to break down, and build up, until the murderer tripped up.

So, yes, a sordid story as old as time, but not one without substance. Everything from the ambiguous, inverted nature of the plot and the various characters to Crook being Crook helped to polish a sordid crime story into an excellent, late-period Golden Age mystery. One of those all together too rare glimpses of what the plot-driven detective story could have been in the age of the character-driven crime and thriller novels.

Note for the Curious: for those who enjoy my completely wrong armchair solutions, I seriously considered (ROT13) Tvyoreg jnf oyhssvat naq Urael npghnyyl qvq xvyy Fgryyn. Rirelbar nterrq “Urael jnf n tragyrzna, ur unq ybiryl znaaref, ur jbhyq abg fgenatyr gur zbfg gverfbzr bs zvfgerffrf,” ohg jung vs ur unq orra unaqrq n unys-svavfurq wbo? Fbzrbar unq nggnpxrq Fgryyn naq, oryvrivat ure gb or qrnq, syrq gur fprar evtug orsber Urael ragrerq gur ubhfr. Fb ur svavfurq gur wbo gur bgure thl yrsg hasvavfurq juvpu jbhyq rkcynva jul fcraq rkgen gvzr va gur ubhfr bgure guna gvzr fgnaqvat fgvyy. Well, I was only mostly wrong.