12/24/19

Murder in Retrospect: The Best and Worst of 2019

 
So, here we are again, gathered at the yawning grave of another year that has passed too soon and, before we start shuffling dirt on the casket, I like to take a moment to go over my best and worst reads of 2019. Merry Christmas by the way!

This year provided me with an interesting best-of list. The 1920s and 2010s are surprisingly well represented here, but the 1930s and 1940s still dominate the list. Same can be said about the omnipresent locked room mystery and more than a dozen non-English (translated) mysteries made it on the list, but, astonishingly, I reread more novels and short stories than I remembered – because a handful of them made it on the list. However, the undisputed winner of 2019 is Brian Flynn with four individual entries. So lets run down the list.

THE BEST MYSTERY NOVELS READ IN 2019:

Dennō sansō satsujin jiken (Murder On-Line, 1996) by Seimaru Amagi

One of only four (translated) novels based on the long-running and popular manga series, The Kindaichi Case Files, in which Hajime Kindaichi gets lost in a snowstorm and ends up on the doorstep of Silverwood Lodge. A place where a members of an on-line, detective-themed chat group, On-Line Lodge, have a meeting at the time. There is, however, a shadowy person among them, "The Trojan Horse," who's plotting wholesale murder. This is perhaps the first traditional detective story that used the internet in any meaningful way. And it has a great alibi-trick!

The Murder of Cecily Thane (1930) by Harriette Ashbrook

This is arguably the weakest title on the list, but the debut of both Harriette Ashbrook and her series-detective, Spike Tracy, was such a fun, lighthearted take on The Van Dine-Queen School of Detective Fiction I had to include it. Spike helps his beleaguered brother, District Attorney R. Montgomery Tracy, to find the murderer of the wife of a rich diamond merchant and destroys an iron-clad alibi in the process.

Murder Makes Murder (1937) by Harriette Ashbrook

On the other hand, Murder Makes Murder is easily one of the more memorable titles on this list and without a question Ashbrook's strongest mystery novel. Spike is traveling down to a small island, off the coast of Maine, to be the best man at a wedding, but, on the second night, the bride-to-be is gruesomely murdered in her bed and a storm cuts has cut them off from the outside world – which forces Spike to play detective once again. A very human and tragic detective story with a shockingly original motive.

The 3-13 Murders (1946) by Thomas B. Black

I enthusiastically called The 3-13 Murders one of the greatest hardboiled detective novels in my review, but not everyone agreed with me. Nonetheless, I quite enjoyed tailing Al Delaney around Chancellor City, in yellow cabs, as he tackled numerous intertwined cases. I liked it.

The Rilloby Fair Mystery (1950) by Enid Blyton

The second novel in the only series Blyton wrote for children older than eleven, "The Barney “R” Mysteries," in which a lively, convincingly drawn group of children solve a long string of baffling thefts of historical and valuable documents – snatched away from locked and guarded rooms. Admittedly, the solution is nearly as old as the locked room mystery, but Blyton added something new to it that made it acceptable again in 1950.

Les invités de minuit (The Seventh Guest, 1935) by Gaston Boca

A very unusual impossible crime novel about a strange night at a walled-in manor house, "as impregnable as a tombstone," where an uninvited, seemingly invisible, guest performs a number of unnerving parlor tricks. One of the more fantastic titles published by Locked Room International.

Hardly a Man is Now Alive (1950) by Herbert Brean (a reread)

A superior detective novel than Brean's most well-known mystery, Wilders Walks Away (1948), in which Reynold Frame and Constance Wilder's plans to get married in the historical town of Concord, Massachusetts, get imperiled. They are flung head first into a case involving a ghost lamp, a phantom army, a quasi-impossible disappearance and an excellent historical mystery. This is the book that Brean should be remembered for.

The Bloody Moonlight (1949) by Fredric Brown

Am and Ed Hunter are engaged to investigate whether, or not, a revolutionary new invention is worth a five-thousand dollar investment. A radio-device that can pick up all kinds of signals, but the inventor claims he has been receiving signals from the planet Mars! A marvelous and original, semi-hardboiled detective novel with a hint of science-fiction.

The Case of the Dead Shepherd (1934) by Christopher Bush

Murder brings Ludovic Travers and Superintendent George Wharton to a co-educational school where a dying teacher was found in common's room and the hated headmaster is beaten to death. This was a welcome return to those tricky, clock-work plots of early Bush.

Goodnight Irene (2018) by James Scott Byrnside

An ambitious debut of, what may be, one of the first mystery writers of the Second Golden Age that will come into full bloom around 2030 (mark my words). A mystery novel not only with all the brilliance of a Japanese shin honkaku, but also one of those rare homages to Byrnside's favorite mystery novelist, Christianna Brand. Something that becomes very obvious when you reach the solution to a case comprising of such bizarre elements as an armor-clad body, a locked room, dismembered corpses and a dying message. So what's there not to like?

The Opening Night Murders (2019) by James Scott Byrnside

A detective novel with a dazzling, kaleidoscopic plot written by someone who has only been reading classic mysteries since 2017, but moved with prodigal speed in mastering all the aspects of story-telling, plotting and characterization – delivering a modern masterpiece. The rich and complex plot is hard to briefly sum up. So just read it for yourself.

Till Death Do Us Part (1944) by John Dickson Carr (a reread)

A novel once considered to be one of Carr's mid-rank (locked room) mystery novels, but, over the past fifteen years, its status has been elevated to one of his ten best titles. This made me decide to reread the book and it definitely held up. A cleverly spun story about a young playwright who becomes involved with a woman, Lesley Grant, who's accused of being a serial-poisoner – having left three men dead inside locked rooms. This is followed by an impossible murder inside a locked room. A five-star detective novel that indeed deserved a reappraisal.

Where There's a Will (1961) by Kip Chase

An admirably attempt to fuse the traditional detective story with the modern, character-driven crime novel and introduced Chase's wheelchair-bound detective, Justine Carmichael. A former police chief who's regularly consulted by his ex-colleagues whenever they encounter a case outside of the normal routine. What a shame Chase only got to write three detective novels.

Death After Evensong (1969) by Douglas Clark

A classically-styled detective novel presented as a modern police procedural that brings the police-detective to a bleak, desolate village where time moves a lot slower and the inhabitants are stuck in a previous era. The detestable vicar of the place is found shot to death in a classroom of an abandoned school building, but the bullet seems to have miraculously vanished. A splendidly written and evocative novel with an original and well-done impossible crime.

The Case with Nine Solutions (1928) by J.J. Connington

The title of the book is a little misleading, because the titular solutions are no more than nine different possibilities, or combinations, of accident, murder and suicide Sir Clinton Driffield has to consider in a quadruple murder case – ending with an elegant solution to a problem of labyrinthine proportions. A classic detective novel from the 1920s.

The Glass Spear (1950) by S.H. Courtier

A great specimen of the anthropological detective novel, steeds in folklore and Gothic atmosphere, which takes place on a Australian sheep-and cattle range dominated by the family matriarch, Huldah – who lives a reclusive existence in a locked suite of rooms. Only two people are ever allowed to enter her private domain. Around her several murders take place that could only have been committed in Australia. A beautifully written and plotted mystery showing why Courtier deserves to be reprinted.

The Night of Fear (1931) by Moray Dalton

An excellent example of the Christmas mystery with a solid plot and an intriguing premise: a costumed Christmas party ends with a game of hide-and-seek in the dark, but a blind guest finds a body in the long gallery. The solution is not is pitch-perfect. However, the book still holds up as one of the better Christmas mysteries.

De man die zijn geweten ontlastte (The Man Who Relieved His Conscience, 2019) by Anne van Doorn

My country is not exactly known for its traditionally-styled, plot-driven detective fiction, but "Anne van Doorn," the penname of M.P.O. Books, has been working hard to alter this shameful state of affairs. So I'm glad to report that he produced one of my favorite detective novels of 2019! A truly excellent detective novel that begins with a false deathbed confession, which brings to light well-handled (locked room) murders. However, what elevates the book to classic status is the revelation about one of the protagonists that completely and utterly floored me. My ego got schooled hard on that one.

The Mystery of the Peacock's Eye (1928) by Brian Flynn

Brian Flynn is my Great Discovery of 2019 and The Mystery of the Peacock's Eye is one of the better titles reprinted by Dean Street Press, in which Flynn expertly tied together a case of Royal blackmail with a poisoning at a dentist's surgery. A book obviously written as a homage to Conan Doyle (c.f. "A Scandal in Bohemia," 1891), but was more reminiscent of early Agatha Christie.

The Murders Near Mapleton (1929) by Brian Flynn

One of the earliest and best examples of the Christmas mystery novel that became popular in the 1930s. The story begins with Sir Eustace Vernon excusing himself during Christmas dinner and vanishes from the house, but the case gets rolling with three subsequent discoveries: a suicide note, the body of the butler in the pantry and a badly mangled corpse on the train tracks. The solution glistens and shines with all the brilliance of the Golden Age.

Invisible Death (1929) by Brian Flynn

A most uncommon impossible crime novel, framed as Doylean thriller, in which a man is poisoned under inexplicable circumstances during a siege on a house by members of a sinister society, The Silver Troika – who were decimated by the victim during the Great War. But where they responsible for his death? The plot is a little light, but the sheer joy of the story-telling and original premise made this one of the more fun detective novels read this year.

Murder en Route (1935) by Brian Flynn

One of the regular commuters on the bus from Estings to Raybourne, who always traveled on the open top, doesn't descend the stairs one day and when the conductor goes to investigate he discovers that the man has been murdered. However, the man had been up there all alone. So how did the murderer get to him? Flynn only wrote a handful of impossible crime novels and this is his best one.

The Gold Watch (2019) by Paul Halter

A time-bending detective novel stretched across nearly a century, between 1911 and 1991, which masterfully intertwines two different narratives comprising of a hunt for a copy of long-lost film and two impossible crimes – one of them committed in 1966. A tour-de-force that will stand the test of time and will one day be considered a classic impossible crime novel of the 2010s.

The Medbury Fort Mystery (1929) by George Limnelius

A fascinatingly written novel, set at an army fort, which tries and succeeds in being both an inverted mystery and proper detective novel simply by inverting the inverted detective story. An approach anticipating Anthony Berkeley's Jumping Jenny (1933) and Trial and Error (1937). And the locked room aspect was just the cherry on top.

The Further Side of Fear (1967) by Helen McCloy

A relatively minor novel, especially for McCloy, but the plot pleasantly blended suspense with espionage and presented as a locked room mystery, which begins when a shadowy visitors enters and leaves the locked apartment of the heroine. It deserves to be better known.

Zaregoto series: kubikiri saikuru (Zaregoto: The Kubikiri Cycle, 2002) by NisiOisiN (a reread)

The award-winning debut of "NisiOisN" and the book is, what's known in Japan, as a Light Novel (Young Adult) illustrated with manga artwork that tells the story of the reluctant protagonist, Ii-chan – who accompanies a friend to a gathering of geniuses on Wet Crow's Feather Island. There he's forced by circumstances to take a proactive hand in capturing a ruthless killer. One of the murders is a gruesome beheading in a locked storage room and has a solution as brilliant as it's original.

Murder Isn't Cricket (1946) by E. and M.A. Radford

This is, what Anthony Boucher called, the simon-pure jigsaw puzzle detective story that used scientific detection to slowly, but methodically, unravel an impossible murder committed during a cricket match – liberally using challenges to the reader to keep the armchair detective on their toes. If you like plots, you'll love the Radfords.

Who Killed Dick Whittington? (1947) by E and M.A. Radford

A surprisingly successful hybrid of the sophisticated theatrical mysteries of Ngaio Marsh with the science-based detection of R. Austin Freeman and Ellery Queen-like challenges to the reader. The problem here centers on the mysterious poisoning of the lead actress in the Christmas pantomime Dick Whittington and His Cat during the dream-scene.

Senseijutsu satsujinjiken (The Tokyo Zodiac Murders, 1981) by Soji Shimada (a reread)

A macabre, grisly tour-de-force and the cornerstone of the Japanese shin honkaku movement, which skillfully manipulated the multiple strands of a complicated plot involving a legendary unsolved case from 1936, body parts scattered across Japan and an impossible murder. A bloody jigsaw puzzle eventually pieced together by an astrologer and fortune-teller, Kiyoshi Mitarai. There are some minor imperfections, but the central puzzle, tying everything together, is simply ingenuis. A genuine classic!

Naname yashiki no hanzai (Murder in the Crooked House, 1982) by Soji Shimada

This long anticipated second translation of the doyen of shin honkaku, Soji Shimada, which takes place in a Western-style house, Ice Floe Mansion, with a bizarre, glistening cylindrical tower – perched at the top of a snowy cliff. The owner has invited a group of people to spend the Christmas holiday there, but then people start to get murdered in locked rooms. Not as grandiose as its more famous predecessor, but it's still a solid detective story with a classic locked room-trick. And the story made excellent use of diagrams.

The Corpse with the Sunburned Face (1935) by Christopher St. John Sprigg

A very unconventional, but surprisingly successful, merger of a satirical English village mystery and a sultry thriller taking place in Africa, peppered with a dose of social comedy, which showed Sprigg was an excellent writer and plotter – blessed with a wealth of imagination. The result here is one of his more memorable detective novels. What a shame he died so young.

The Missing Moneylender (1931) by W. Stanley Sykes

A book aspiring to be both R. Austin Freeman and Dorothy L. Sayers with a plot concerning the unexpected death of a doctor and a missing moneylender, but Sykes brought an original idea to the table. A way to commit an almost perfect murder.

Shisei satsujin jiken (The Tattoo Murder Case, 1948) by Akimitsu Takagi (a reread)

A richly detailed detective story, set in the bombed ruins, shuttered buildings and makeshift shops of post-war Japan, but with a plot deeply emerged in the “shadowy, sensual world” of tattoos and cursed ink. An iconic locked room mystery from one of the pioneers of the original honkaku era.

They Walk in Darkness (1947) by Gerald Verner

This is an incredibly dark, pulpy take on the quintessential English village mystery steeped in witchcraft, serial killings, vigilantism and an impossible crime of the no-footprints scenario. One of Verner's longer novels that obviously tried to be a little more than most of shorter novels. I believe he succeeded.

Sorcerer's House (1956) by Gerald Verner

A fine example of the pulp-style detective story and a warm homage to John Dickson Carr's He Who Whispers (1946), which centers on a tragically wronged woman, Fay Meriton, whose back-story is tied to a dark, long abandoned house that once belonged to one of history's more illustrious figures, Cagliostro. Villagers claim they still lights moving around the dark house and bodies tend turn up below the window of the Long Room. One of Verner's best mystery novels.

The Laughing Dog (1949) by Francis Vivian

Inspector Gordon Knollis is called on to investigate the murder of Dr. Hugh Challoner, who was found strangled in his surgery, which is case full of doodles of the titular dog and a tightly-drawn, closely-knit group of suspects. A solidly plotted detective novel and one of my favorite entries in the series. 
 
THE BEST SHORT STORIES READ IN 2019:

Short Stories from Collections:


"The Problem of the Potting Shed"
"The Problem of the Haunted Hospital"
"The Problem of the Secret Passage"


"Through a Glass, Darkly"
"The Singing Diamonds"
"Thy Brother Dead"
"The Bug That's Going Around"


"The Haunted Room"
"A Dark and Stormy Light"

Single Short Stories:

Takemaru Abiko's "Ningyou wa tent de suiri suru" ("A Smart Dummy in the Tent," 1990)
Jon L. Breen's "The Lithuanian Eraser Mystery" (1969)
D.L. Champion's "The Day Nobody Died" (1944)
Carter Dickson's "Blind Man's Hood" (1937)
Paul Halter's "Le livre jaune" ("The Yellow Book," 2017)
Edward D. Hoch's "The Case of the Modern Medusa" (1973)
Edward D. Hoch's "Circus in the Sky" (2000)
J.A. Konrath's "With a Twist" (2005)
E.C.R. Lorac's "Remember to Ring Twice" (1950)
Rintaro Norizuki's "Toshi densetsu pazuru" ("An Urban Legend Puzzle," 2001)
Edogawa Rampo's "Yaneura no sanposha" ("The Stalker in the Attic," 1925)
Soji Shimada's "Hakkyō-suru jūyaku" ("The Executive Who Lost His Head," 1984)
Hideo Yokoyama's "Dōki" ("Motive," 2000)

THE WORST OR MOST DISAPPOINTING READS OF 2019:

The Rat-a-Tat Mystery (1956) by Enid Blyton

A book with plenty of wintry charm and a lingering Christmas spirit, but the plot was razor-thin and uninspired, which was a huge disappointment after reading The Mystery of the Invisible Thief (1950) and the previously listed The Rilloby Fair Mystery.

The Dead Don't Care (1938) by Jonathan Latimer

This poorly written and plotted piece has replaced Ellery Queen's The Spanish Cape Mystery (1935) as the most transparent novel from an otherwise highly regarded Golden Age author. A paper-thin plot filled with shallow, immature characters and a bare amount of detective work by a couple of holidaying private-eyes. Like I said in my review, the dead don't care and neither should you.

The Army Post Murders (1931) by Mason Wright

A book with a strong opening and a great setting, a lonely army fortress in the middle of nowhere, but with an uninspired ending. Very disappointing.

12/22/19

The Last Warning (1962) by Gerald Verner

Gerald Verner's The Last Warning (1962) is the fourteenth title in the Detective-Superintendent Robert Budd series and is, particular compared to They Walk in Darkness (1947), the shortest novel I've read by Verner to date – practically a novella. I begin to believe that the Superintendent Budd novels were written according to a formula.

I've previously read the novella "The Beard of the Prophet" (1937) and The Royal Flush Murders (1948), which have very similar premises with men under a deadly threat in their own home and a police presence unable to prevent murder from happening. One of the murders is committed under seemingly impossible circumstances in a locked room closely guarded by policemen. The plot of The Last Warning follows the same pattern.

The Last Warning opens on a Friday evening, the 13th of November, when the assiduous, ill-tempered and unlikable Mr. Criller returns home to find the capital 'S' scrawled in red chalk on his gate. A greatly annoyed Criller assumes it was done by some of the unruly village boys, because he's not exactly popular in Thatchford. But this incident comes back to haunt him the next day.

Criller lives with his servants and an adopted niece, Grace Hatton, who acts as "a kind of unofficial secretary" to her uncle and, in return, she receives food, shelter and "a microscopic dress allowance" – making some people wonder why she put up with her "impossible life." A sub-plot that deserved better treatment. One of those people is her neighbor, Jim Langdon, who lives with his mother at Yule Lodge and wants to marry Grace. Naturally, Criller wants to hear nothing about it ("I'll not have any philandering, understand that").

Twenty years ago, Criller made "a nice packet" of money in a mysterious, underhanded scheme with two confederates, Franklin Brinn and Sir Benjamin Gottleib. A scheme not so subtly alluded to during a business meeting between Criller and Brinn, but details are kept as sketchy as possible at this early juncture in the story. When the meeting ends, Brinn strolls into the garden to smoke a cigar, but never returns. Grace is ordered to go look for him and finds his body in the summer-house. A rough letter 'S' was drawn in blood on the garden table!

The stout, deceptively sleepy-eyed Detective-Superintendent Robert Budd happened to be in the neighborhood on an unrelated case and had been talking with an old friend, Superintendent Hawkins, when he got news of the murder – coming on the tail of telling Budd that they "don't get much excitement" in Thatchford. So he tags along and they soon discover that the two remaining men are in mortal danger.

A threatening letter tells Criller that he'll be next and Gottleib receives a similar worded death threat announcing "tomorrow night at twelve you will die too."

They decide to spend the night at Criller's house. Gottleib is placed in a room with two police constables patrolling the ground beneath the window, which are securely fastened and bolted on the inside. Budd and Hawkins will be in sight of the locked door the entire time. Only thing Gottleib has to do is call out "all right" at regular intervals, but, when the clock had chimed twelve, everything remained silent behind the locked door and there's no response to their knocking – which made them decide to break down the door. What they find is Gottleib, slumped in a desk-chair, with "a small round hole in the center of his forehead" and "the hot-iron smell of burnt cordite" still lingering in the air.

A pretty solid premise for an impossible crime, but the locked room-trick employed here has been done before. A trick not as well known to mystery readers who aren't also wholesale consumers of impossible crime fiction, but I've come across numerous examples and variations on this idea, which was kind of old hat by the time The Last Warning was published. That being said, this trick is still better and less disappointing than secret passages, keys being turned with pliers or pieces of string, duplicate keys or keys being reintroduced to the room after the door was broken down.

My real problem with the impossible shooting is how it destroyed any shred of doubt I had about the murderer's identity. I already had this person tagged as my number one suspect, but there was another character, suspiciously hidden the background, who presented a possibility. Unfortunately, this was not the case and story became blatantly obvious and, as short as it was, a tedious right after the murder in the locked room. There's was an interesting little game of musical chairs with false identities and wills towards the end of the story, but this came too late to help prop up the weak solution.

So, while The Last Warning had a good premise and some interesting ideas, the plot failed to deliver the goods in the end and has convinced me Verner is not a writer you need to look to for good locked room mysteries. Luckily, Verner's Noose for a Lady (1952) and Sorcerer's House (1956) demonstrated he could be an excellent, second-string mystery writer without having too lean on an impossible crime. I found a promising, non-impossible crime, title that looks promising with a plot and setting reminiscent of John Russell Fearn. But that's a detective story for 2020.

12/19/19

The Kindaichi Case Files: The Santa Slayings by Yozaburo Kanari and Fumiya Sato

The Santa Slayings is the 7th volume in the original series of The Kindaichi Case Files, written by Yozaburo Kanari and illustrated by Fumiyo Sato, which was among the 17 volumes that received an official release in the West – published during the golden days of TokyoPop. I mentioned in a previous review that there were gaps in my reading of the American releases and The Santa Slayings was one of the gaps.

So what better time to finally read, to my knowledge, the only seasonally-themed mystery in the series than the week preceding Christmas?

The Santa Slayings opens with a bleak prologue telling the reader that, ten years previously, the body of an unidentified woman was found off the coast of Kushiro, Hokkaido, which marked "the beginning of a tragic case." A case that would conclude ten years to the day later.

Hajime Kindaichi is unexpectedly invited by Detective Kotaro Tawarada, who first appeared in the abysmal The Mummy's Curse, to attend a Mystery Night at an exclusive, Western-style hotel during Christmas. However, this gracious invitation is in actuality a plea for help. The hotel received a letter threatening that whoever dares to disturb, or spoil, the writer's sanctuary "a bloody death as retribution" awaits them on Christmas Eve – signed "The Red-Beared Santa Claus." A mysterious figure who rented Room 315 for ten years and lived there as a recluse, but vanished one day. Reportedly, he had died in an accident.

A second problem bugging Detective Tawarada is the presence of the coldly competent, hard-bitten Hokkaido Police Superintendent, Fuwa Narumi. Several weeks before, there was a joint investigation between Aomori and Hokkaido Police, but, when the case was successfully closed, she wrote in her report that "the case was hindered by the Aomori police." And this damaged their reputation. So Detective Tawarada is now burdened with proving the real worth of the Aomori police force.

After this, the focus of the story shifts to the members of The Aprodia Theater Group, lead by the hated Suzue Bandai, who'll perform a two-part mystery play, but they immediately become the target of the red-bearded menace. Suzue Bandai receives a severed, but gift-wrapped, cat's head and their dressing room is thrashed. And that set the stage for murder.

During the final scene, the characters in the play share a toast, but the glass of the troupe leader contained cyanide and the police surveillance ensured nobody could have "snuck on to the stage to poison the glass" – which limited possibilities to "someone within the theater group." What follows is a series of murders, leaning heavily on some clever tricks, that carried the story. Starting with the poisoning-trick that made the murder on stage appear as if it was completely random. A trick that, in theory, only works with a very specific kind of victim, but a clever stunt nonetheless.
 
The third murder in the series is a tragic one and involved and involved Kindaichi personally, in more ways than one, when his roommate is murdered in Room 315 and Kindaichi is rendered unconscious by the murderer. So, when the door is opened, Kindaichi is placed under arrest, because he's the only one who could have committed the murder. The doors in the hotel have locks that can only be opened and locked with key cards, which automatically expire every twenty-four hours and the timing of the murder seems to exclude everyone except Kindaichi. A second aspect of the impossible murder is that Detective Tawarada saw the murderer standing in front of the window, of Room 315, five minutes pass midnight, but how did he manage to disappear from the locked room?

What makes this, plot-technically speaking, an interesting locked room problem is not the patchwork-trick, but how thoroughly the explanation broke down that locked room and the triple-layered motive justifying this elaborate setup – making this impossible murder a key-piece of the plot. Another noteworthy plot-thread is the one-hundred year history of Room 315. A grim history beginning with the suicide of the original hotel owner and the long occupation of the room by the red-bearded stranger, but it was never explained how this person was able to turn the whole room red.

So with a bag full of good tricks, false solutions and a surprising departure from the customary avenger-from-the-past motive, you would assume The Santa Slayings stands as one of the better, early titles in the series. Well, you're wrong. Remember, this is one of the volumes that was written by Yozaburo Kanari. And the poor sod was unable to keep the plot together during the denouement.

Despite all of the good or interesting plot-strands, Kanari thought it was necessary to add one more layer to the story. A layer allowing to add a surprise twist to the identity of the painfully obvious murderer, but this twist, coming out of nowhere, is so cringe-inducing ludicrous and unnecessary that it soured the whole story for me. I suspect this was only worked into the plot so that Kindaichi could have one of his moralizing speeches and emotionally break down the murderer in the last chapters. This is why I dislike Kanari so much. Watching him trying to plot and keep it together can be like watching a fly trying to get out of an open window.

I can only recommend The Santa Slayings to genuine fans of The Kindaichi Case Files, but advise everyone else to save themselves the money you'll likely have to spend in tracking down an overpriced, secondhand copy of the TokyoPop edition.

12/16/19

The Murder of Cecily Thane (1930) by Harriette Ashbrook

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.