She Woke to Darkness (1954) by Brett Halliday

She Woke to Darkness (1954) is the 25th novel in the Michael Shayne series by "Brett Halliday," a pseudonym of Davis Dresser, who celebrated this milestone by taking his hardboiled private eye series into meta-fictional territory – making himself the central character. The book opens with an "Author's Foreword" explaining the previous twenty-four novels were secondhand, fictionalized accounts of Shayne's real-life cases, but this case is a firsthand account ("this story happened to me, Brett Halliday").

That story begins with Halliday attending the 1953 Edgar Allan Poe Awards Dinner, hosted by the Mystery Writers of America, where he chats and drinks with the likes of Robert Arthur, Fred Dannay and Clayton Rawson ("...I don't know what happened to John Dickson Carr”). Halliday is looking forward to meeting Dorothy Cecil, a fictitious mystery writer, but she drifts away in the crowd and Halliday is introduced to a young woman. Elsie Murray is a big fan of the Michael Shayne novels and has the complete series in hardcover from Dividend on Death (1939) to One Night With Nora (1953). She lures Halliday back to her apartment under somewhat false and mixed circumstances.

Elsie has written a half finished manuscript, titled She Woke to Darkness, partially based on a real, unsolved incident that happened to her and had no problem writing down the first fifty pages on paper ("...because I was dealing with real facts"), but now she's stuck on the middle part – asks Halliday to read it and advise her what to do with it. Halliday reads the first chapter of the manuscript and discovers the story concerns a woman, named Aline Ferris, who wakes up from one of her drunk, blackout stupors in a hotel room with two dollars stuffed down her underwear and a dead man lying on the bathroom floor. She has no memories of what happened at the party she attended. After reading the first chapter, Halliday decides to give Elsie a phone call, but a man picks up the phone and discreetly hangs up without saying anything. But it sounded like a policeman's voice.

After a phone call to a friend, Halliday is told Elsie was found strangled after the police received an anonymous tip about a dead woman in the apartment. That's a problem for Halliday. Scores of witnesses had seen them leave the banquet together, his fingerprints were all over her apartment and her lipstick on him. So call Shayne back in Miami and asks him to get on the next plane to New York. By the way, the New York friend Halliday called to learn what had happened at Elsie's apartment is the real-life, true crime writer, Edward D. Radin, who's constantly in the background helping and covering for Halliday ("if they ever learn the truth, I'll be sunk in New York..."). Radin and Shayne tell Halliday to sit tight and go over the manuscript again while waiting for the law to catch up with him.

There's an interesting possibility arising from reading the manuscript as one of the characters clearly used Aline Ferris to arrange an alibi. Just one problem. Elsie told Halliday she had changed all the names and physical descriptions of the people involved. So while the manuscript clearly points in the direction of the killer, the trick is matching the fictionalized person to its real-life counterpart. Casting the tough, hardboiled private eye novel as a meta-fictional biblio mystery is a stroke of absolute genius!

Michael Shayne arrives in New York after the halfway mark and acts like he knows he has only half the normally allotted time to close the case. Not at all bothered by the fact that a private detective from Miami has no official standing in New York. Shayne simply shoves a big fist under the nose of every unwilling witness or potential suspect and tells them to “start talking.” So not the hardboiled analog of Ellery Queen I encountered in previous novels, but still tremendously fun as Halliday (the writer, not the character) was not above poking fun at himself. For example, Shayne gets told by one suspect to "check up on an out-of-town writer named Brett Halliday" who "writes those lousy books about a dumb redheaded private eye in Miami." Shayne races through the second-half to find the real killer, tear down alibi and clear his friend's name from suspicion of murder.

I should warn some of the people who follow this blog not to expect a multi-layered, grand-style whodunit or a tricky alibi-breaker. She Woke to Darkness is not that kind of novel. From what I understand, She Woke to Darkness represents a shift in the series as Halliday started to put more emphasis on "the sexiness and violence in dialog among a lower class of despicable characters." You definitely wouldn't pick this up to meet a bunch of pleasant characters who happened to get themselves involved in a double murder case. She Woke to Darkness is one of those transitional novels from the 1950s the previous era of the genre was starting to disappear in the rear view mirror. But how She Woke in Darkness was framed and played out carried everything to something more than an early, 1950s sleazy crime novel. Yes, the self-aware, tongue-in-cheek humor and cameos also helped making it something more than thin-ish, grimy plot underneath. She Woke in Darkness is together with Murder and the Married Virgin (1944) my favorite Shayne novel to date.

The Thirteenth Apostle (2020) by Jamie Probin

Last time, I reviewed "The Episode of the Nine Monets" (2020) by Jamie Probin, a mathematician, who has written a short series of impossible crime and locked room mysteries about a mathematician-detective, Dr. Samuel Harris – who acts as a special consultant to Scotland Yard and Sûreté. "The Episode of the Nine Monets" and The Thirteenth Apostle (2020) form the "Le Fantôme Saga" with the former being a prequel to the latter.

Le Fantôme is the classically-styled, phantom thief who has terrorized the museums and private collectors of France and Britain for years. Only real opposition came from Dr. Harris and Henry Toussante, Patrick Larson and Alain Noble of the Sûreté. The last three starred in "The Episode of the Nine Monets" as they try to figure out how their nemesis spirited away a valuable painting from a locked townhouse. They triumph in cracking the locked room problem and get back the stolen painting, but Le Fantôme is still on the loose and more popular than ever. The Thirteenth Apostle is the concluding chapter of this saga.

Before getting to the story and plot, I need to get one thing out of the way first concerning the story's pacing and structure of the plot. Probin pieced out the story in lumps, big and small, which tend to shift around a bit, chronologically speaking, leaving dramatic turns of event hanging to allude to a future crime or go over previous trodden ground – making it somewhat repetitive. I essentially agree with Jim a thorough editing job would have resulted in an ever better detective novel. Superb even! However, the pacing, structuring and lapses of repetitiveness surprisingly didn't bother me at all. The Thirteenth Apostle is a fantastical, seemingly impossible crime caper about a phantom thief toying with the combined police forces and a amateur detective of two countries. So the repetitive patches and the lumpy, dramatic and sometimes episodic nature of the plot gave it the air of a turn-of-the-century French feuilleton. I liked that aspect, but yes, Jim's point still stands. With that out of the way, let's begin.

Probin's The Thirteenth Apostle begins on April 21, 1935, when a dozen of prominent French and English citizens, under the cover of dusk, heading towards the Eiffel Tower. All of them received a politely-worded, but urgent, invitation punctuated by a veiled, hard to ignore threat to show up. Who didn't need to be coerced to come are Dr. Samuel Harris and Henri Toussante, head of the Sûreté, because they know Le Fantôme is up to his old tricks again. And their best shot to finally catch the notorious phantom thief.

Le Fantôme reveals himself to the gathering through a gramophone recording à la Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None (1939). The voice of Le Fantôme announces to them his intention to steal the twin Bombay Diamonds, "their acquisition would be the pinnacle of my calling," of which one permanently resides in the Louvre. Le Fantôme claims to have already stolen the other diamond that was on display at the Palais de Chaillot and informs the group gathered at the Eiffel Tower they're going to help steal the second diamond from the Louvre ("to put it bluntly, you all have secrets..."). Leaving them to deliberate and make a decision, but Toussante is already on the counter offensive and apparently one step ahead. Toussante has brought the diamond Le Fantôme claims to have stolen from Palais de Chaillot.

The setup to this first of numerous impossible crimes is a slow burner, but played to great effect and pay-off as the clandestine meeting on the Eiffel Tower culminates with the disappearance of the closely watched diamond and murder – a poisoning as inexplicable as it's shocking. And why I'm being sketchy on the details to avoid spoilers. So everything and everyone, "suspect and police alike," is subjected to a thorough search without finding the diamond or a even a hint how it vanished in the first place. The poisoning appears to be equally baffling and impossible, but there are more puzzling aspects to the theft and murder. Why was there an abnormally, almost unnecessarily, large dose of poison in the glass? Why did the victim picked up the glass and deliberately smashed it before dying? Why the hell did this dose of poison have such a flair for dramatic timing? You can perhaps count that last one as a third, borderline impossibility.

While a slow burner of a start, the setup to this impossible crime extravaganza is absolutely fantastic with false-solutions being bandied about during the initial investigation at the Eiffel Tower. I'm a sucker for false-solutions! So would have loved for The Thirteenth Apostle to have continued along these lines, while picking up the pace along the way, as it headed towards the next couple of locked room murders. This is the point where the story begins to move on to the next lump of plot as the dramatic, illusory crimes at the Eiffel Tower remain unresolved for the time being. A move bridged with an excerpt from the fictitious book, Ghost in the Machine: the extraordinary career of Le Fantôme, teasing Le Fantôme's "last and most infamous accomplishment" ("the murder in the Oglethorpe Crypt"), but first, there's another impossible crime. An impossible crime pushing Le Fantôme to near mythical status in the minds of the investigators.

Nearly half a year later, in November, everyone who was present "that most unpleasant evening at the top of La Tour Eiffel" reunite at Chateau Lambert in Montanix-des-Alpes, France. Their association with a notorious, unsolved case and status as potential suspects is becoming troublesome ("...our lives will be forever tainted..."), which is why they have decided to get together to try and solve the case themselves. However, the plan to pool their knowledge, go over the facts and attempt to weed out the truth gets ditched when they learn of the local legend.

Chateau Lambert has an ancient, austere and brooding tower, Chambre de Justice, which once served as a holding cell for condemned prisoners and, over time, the tower became the stuff of legend – basically a room-that-kills. A room sparing anyone who's truly innocent, but beheads any person spending the night the tower alone with a serious crime on their conscious ("a room with pretensions of being judge, jury and executioner"). So the gathering decides to let the tower decide who's innocent and guilty. That goes about as well you'd expect, only with a slight twist as the murder is not exactly what was expected from the tower room.

This poorly done, messy review only gives you a fraction of what happened between the prologue and the impossible murder at the Chambre de Justice. So when the story finally arrives at its end stage, The Thirteenth Apostle only has a handful of chapters left to go. I started to wonder what Probin could possibly do with the murder at the Oglethorpe Crypt, which had been alluded to in both the prologue and interlude. It turns out not all that much. Well, not in terms of creating the crowning achievement of that promised trilogy of impossible murders, but at least it served another, not unimportant, purpose. I can see why Jim was disappointed as it hyped as the story's main event.

So, as a locked room mystery, the impossible murder at the Chambre de Justice stands as the best of the three. I very much enjoyed how Probin set it up as a shin honkaku-style impossibility, only to turn around to deliver a very Paul Halter-esque locked room mystery. The inexplicable poisoning and disappearing diamond from the Eiffel Tower stand out more for its dramatic staging, iconic backdrop and some truly first-class misdirection. So two, out of three, is not a bad return for a mystery novel with multiple impossibilities. What actually did disappoint me is how blatantly obvious it's who's behind the Le Fantôme persona. For more reasons than one, Probin made it impossible to ignore this character as a serious candidate to the point I began to second guess myself. I even entertained the idea of two Le Fantômes. The original, happy go-lucky Le Fantôme who robbed museums and the person who usurped his identity to go on a murder spree. That also didn't turn out to be the case and robs the story of some of its mystification (ROT13: gur svefg zheqre naq gursg nera'g unys nf onssyvat jura lbh fhfcrpg gung punenpgre bs orvat gur cunagbz).

Probin's The Thirteenth Apostle is that good, old-fashioned mixed bag of tricks. I think I enjoyed more than Jim, but have to agree there's definitely an even better, tighter-plotted detective novel lurking in there somewhere. That said, The Thirteenth Apostle is still an impressive, ambitious first stab at locked room mystery novel showing how much things had already changed by 2020. Not so long ago, novels like Gilbert Adair's The Act of Roger Murgatroyd (2006) and Eric Keith's Nine Man's Murder (2011) were seen as events because they tried or pretended to write retro or modern locked room novels. We come a long way in a very short amount of time.

So definitely going to check out the other two short stories and hope Probin hasn't forgotten about that short story collection Six Impossible Things.

Note for the curious: just one more thing about that over hyped impossible crime in the crypt that was tucked away at the end. This impossible situation was described in the prologue as practically a hermetically sealed tomb with a door can be barred from the inside with a wooden, six inch thick beam that can be placed horizontally in two thick iron brackets. The prologue noted this can only be "done from inside the crypt" and Dr. Harris says "no amount of jiggery pokery could possibly allow the door to be locked from the outside." When I read the prologue, I immediately saw a very simple way to hermetically seal that crypt from the inside. Just place two pieces of ice inside the iron brackets, place the beam on top, step out and close the door. As the ice melts, the beam drops into the brackets barring the crypt from the inside.

The Art of Stealing: "The Episode of the Nine Monets" (2020) by Jamie Probin

Jamie Probin is a British-born mathematician currently living in Charleston, South Carolina, where he teaches mathematics at Charleston Southern University and writes detective novels and short stories featuring his mathematician-detective, Dr. Samuel Harris – who's something of a locked room specialist. I should have gotten to this series before now, but it got loss in the mass of reprints, translations and neo-Golden Age mysteries. That's until Jim Noy, of The Invisible Event, reviewed Probin's newest, non-series short story "Chapter 17: Perroquet Explains" (2026). So moved this series up the big pile.

I wanted to begin with Probin's The Thirteenth Apostle (2020), but the short story "The Episode of the Nine Monets" (2020) is a prequel and Jim's review suggested reading it before the novel ("...because it sets up the world well..."). What it sets up, or rather introduces, is a duel between the master criminal Le Fantôme and the Sûreté, Scotland Yard and Dr. Harris.

Henry Toussante, Patrick Larson and Alain Noble, of the Sûreté, have been trying to put a stop to the shenanigans of Le Fantôme for years, which is easier said than done considering the phantom thief's affinity for the impossible crimes and a gift for disguises – getting bolder with each new scheme. Such as Le Fantôme's latest caper involving the inexplicable disappearance of an early, little-known work by Claude Monet, "never exhibited publicly," belonging to the millionaire banker Jacques DuFresne. It hung in DuFresne's Paris townhouse, securely locked, bolted and barred from the inside, but nevertheless disappeared from the locked townhouse. Even stranger, Le Fantôme exchanged the Monet for a plain, white canvas with "a childish outline of a ghost etched into the centre with a few simple strokes of black paint." I wonder if Probin is familiar with Kaito KID from Gosho Aoyama's Case Closed series.

Anyway, Dr. Harris is mentioned only in passing, "ask his opinion, see if he has any ideas," but it's the men of the Sûreté who score a point over Le Fantôme. Patrick Larson, in particular, gets to play a big role with his rather unorthodox methods uncovering several copies of the stolen Monet have been sold shortly after the theft. That nicely added another impossibility to the impossible theft: how do you make a whole bunch of near perfect copies of a painting that has never been publicly displayed? Good enough copies to fool a string of collectors. However, the trick to make the Monet vanish from a locked townhouse is the better, more imaginative and fairly-clued of the two impossibilities. More importantly, "The Episode of the Nine Monets" is exactly what a story about an Arsène Lupin-style character pulling off impossible crime capers should be... incredibly fun and entertaining.

I said Sûreté scored a point over Le Fantôme. They cracked the locked room problem, recovered the stolen painting and boosted their reputation, but not "the money Le Fantôme had gained from selling the forgeries" or the criminal himself – who has now captured the public's imagination ("the mood was ripe to embrace a Robin Hood-style folk hero"). The Thirteenth Apostle is going to conclude the Le Fantôme saga featuring "a trilogy of impossible murders." So that one is going to be next and hopefully it lives up "The Episode of the Nine Monets." A highlight of the 2020s impossible crime story and locked room revival.

A note for the curious: the ending half-raises a point I have wondered about before. This series takes place sometime in the early-1930s, several years after "the great depression had thundered through France and the rest of the western world,"
which is why Le Fantôme was becoming an anti-hero here. I have sometimes wondered if the figure the Gentleman Thief could have ever challenged the popularity of the Great Detective. Writers like Maurice Leblanc and E.W. Hornung made their mark with Arsène Lupin and Raffles, but the Rogue School perhaps needed their own Agatha Christie or John Dickson Carr more than a great depression. I do wonder sometimes about that strange, alternative universe where the Gentleman Thief overtook (even if only briefly) the Great Detective in popularity.

Sailor, Take Warning! (1944) by Kelley Roos

Last time, I reviewed the splendid novella "Death is a Trouper" (1946) by "Kelley Roos," a shared penname of William and Audrey Roos, which finds their normally bantering, wisecracking mystery solving couple of Jeff and Haila Troy during a messy breakup – only for a murder to bring them back together. A humorously written, deftly-plotted and clued novella. Its only negative is its short length that left me wanting a novel-length Jeff and Haila Troy outing, but have already reread The Frightened Stiff (1942) and There Was a Crooked Man (1945) is (as of this writing) still out-of-print. So decided to reread that other favorite from the series.

Sailor, Take Warning! (1944), fourth in the series, starts on a warm, sunny Sunday afternoon in
September. Jeff and Haila promised their housekeeper to take her 7-year-old son, Chuckie, off her hands by taking him to Central Park to sail his model boat on the lake. Building and sailing model boats on a small lake or pond is not merely a pass time for children like Chuckie. When they get to the park, Jeff and Haila are introduced to several members of the Knickerbocker Model Yachting Club, which "sails the sea" on "Saturday, Sunday and holiday afternoons."

Knickerbocker Model Yachting Club is headed by the Commodore, Austin Marshall, who's a wealthy man with many, many hobbies and interests. Bernard Marshall is his lazy, younger brother and fellow Knickerbocker as is their young nephew, Carl Marshall, currently on leave from the army. George Penny, a crusty, old and wheelchair bound man, who's accompanied by his daughter, Penny – who's sort of engaged to Carl. Tony Gilbert, a charming, well-known stage actor, who's currently appearing in another Broadway smash hit. Finally, William Philips, another wealthy model ship enthusiast and their cabin boy, Chuckie. So the scenery is near idyllic, "only the silhouette of the towering apartments and hotels" kept "you from forgetting that this was New York," but then the inevitable murder happens. A seemingly impossible murder!

Austin Marshall is seen climbing the stairs to a lonely bench, on promontory, overlooking the park, sat down and enjoyed the scenery. Only person who came to have a chat was Philips, but left him and, ten minutes later, Marshall was found dead with "a thin, nail-like piece of steel" sticking out of his neck. Somebody, within that ten minute window, sneaked up to Marshall and stabbed him. However, that appears to be patently impossible as "there's no dobt that no one went within fifty feet of the victim between the time he talked to Philips and his death." The police points out the stabbing was such "a precision job" that it could not have been projected from a distance.

Now, this is where the story becomes extra hilarious if you have just read "Death is a Trouper." Jeff refuses to have anything to do with the case and not only turns down Lieutenant Hankins, but even intends to return an anonymous delivered, one-thousand dollar fee to find the Marshall's murderer. This horrifies Haila ("...not wanting to witness the Troys' return to poverty...") who takes desperate measures to secure (i.e. steal) the fee and basically forces Jeff to solve the murder. Jeff and Haila's lighthearted banter and bright dialogue are the highlight of the story, which is unquestionable where Sailor, Take Warning! can match wits with The Frightened Stiff. Not that the Rooses neglected to pack the plot with incidents, twists and turns.

For example, I had entirely forgotten Sailor, Take Warning! has not one, but two, impossible crimes: Philips' wife, Diane, is knocked unconscious and her attacked escaped from a locked, observed house. Another trail leads the Troys to Walter Davisson, a radio psychologist known as The Marriage Doctor, whose wife, Marjorie, has a flirtatious affair with Tony Gilbert. A man, by the name of Robert Nichols, pops up out of nowhere pleading with Jeff to find his missing daughter leading to a wild goose chase from New York to Hoboken. Not to mention the Troys get burglarized and Haila finds to her horror that the thousand dollars she stole from Jeff was stolen. So the Troys are busy enough between talking and poking around the members of the Knickerbocker Model Yachting Club.

As noted in the previous review, when the Rooses and Troys are at their best, they were a good deal better than the more famous mystery writing, husband-and-wife teams or snooping couples of their day. There's a reason, both good and bad, why Sailor, Take Warning! is considered to be the Rooses second best detective novel.

Firstly, the humor and dialogue can match themselves with The Frightened Stiff, but the plot turned out to be more of a mixed bag than I remembered. The holds together for the most part, despite the various, seemingly irrelevant sub-plots and the Troys tramping around the city, especially liked the solution to the impossible stabbing in Central Park – even though it reworks a very old dodge. Nevertheless, I liked how it was put to work here. It just worked for me in this setting. And, yes, one point makes its status as an impossible crime somewhat dubious. I'll take even as a borderline impossible crime. The problem of the attacker getting out of a locked house is nothing special and only a very minor plot-thread/distraction. So don't expect too much from that locked room problem. Nor do I have a problem with the choice of murderer as it nicely fitted the method. Where the Rooses tripped up and robbed themselves of another The Frightened Stiff is the motive.

I'm always annoyed when a writer tacks on the motive at the end as an afterthought. It's not always story-ruining bad, mostly just lazy, something you can even get away when a story's focus is on picking apart alibis, locked rooms or deciphering dying messages and code messages. Or when it's a really basic motive like the victim turning out to have been blackmailer or something. The not at all unimportant and far from basic motive was here not merely tacked on as an afterthought, but dropped on the reader like an ACME anvil. That's why I remembered it and was on the lookout for any kind of clue, hint or trace of foreshadowing. A slight, shaky case can be made it was, sort of, alluded to when (ROT13) Wrss wbxvat fnlf gb Puhpxvr “gurer zvtug or n Anmv ntrag nebhaq,” ohg gung bss-unaqrq, nccneragyl haeryngrq dhvc gb n puvyq pnzr sbhe cntrf vagb gur fgbel. So you can hardly be blamed for having forgotten about that fleeting remark and connected it to that in order to anticipate such a twist and turn of events. Hell, even with remembering it, and knowing it was coming, it still was a jarring turn of events. And genuinely damaged it as a fairly mystery. Why it came up short compared to The Frightened Stiff and had to take second place.

I really hate to nitpick about the motive, because Sailor, Take Warning! is nearly as good as The Frightened Stiff in every other way, but the motive turned out to be rather important. It's just dropped out of nowhere to reveal (ROT13) lbh unir orra ernqvat n dhnfv-fcl zlfgrel gur jubyr gvzr. Not that it couldn't have worked, but not how it was handled here. I think writers of the caliber of William and Audrey Roos should have known better. That being said, Sailor, Take Warning! is still an incredibly fun read for fans of the characters and screwball mysteries in general.

Hopefully, there's some kindly publisher out there who decides to finally reprint There Was a Crooked Man or publish a volume with the Rooses uncollected novellas. Just one for the suggestion box. :)

Every Roos Has Its Thorn: "Death is a Trouper" (1946) by Kelley Roos

Writing under the shared pseudonym "Kelley Roos," William and Audrey Roos formed one of the best, cleverest and funniest writing duos of genuinely funny, cleverly-plotted detective novels starring their bantering, mystery solving couple of Jeff and Haila Troy – who appeared in eight novels and a dozen, mostly uncollected, novellas. The first seven novels were published between 1940 and 1949 with a surprising, final entry being published in 1966. And of the dozen, or so, novellas only three were gathered under the title Triple Threat (1949).

Kelley Roos and the Troys may not be as well remembered today as the Norths, the Abbotts or the Duluths, but often they were "a good deal better than their more famous contemporaries." I consider The Frightened Stiff (1942), a personal favorite, to be one of the Great American Detective Novels that even today can still make readers laugh. So wanted to return to Troys for some time now, but the only title left on my wishlist is the frustratingly out-of-print, over priced There Was a Crooked Man (1945). No apparent plans to collect their novellas in a single volume. I decided to hunt down one of their novellas before sampling one of the standalone suspense-mysteries the Rooses collaborated on during the 1960s and '70s.

"Death of a Trouper" originally appeared in the December, 1946, issue of The American Magazine and reprinted in the May, 1980, issue of Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, but something has to be explained first. Jeff and Haila's marriage has not been a perfect one and their last novel, One False Move (1966), begins in the aftermath of their divorce as Haila packed her backs and moved to Texas – only to stumble across another murder. They get back together, of course, but "Death of a Trouper" tells the story of the first crack in their marriage leading to their temporary divorce two decades later.

Similar to the opening in One False Move, this novella begins with the aftermath of a marriage ending fight ("I slapped him... he hit me back"). You have to read the story for yourself to find out what they were fighting and throwing hands over, but it firmly falls in the you-deserve-each-other category. Haila packed her bags and traveled to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, to take up acting again. She joins "a real, honest-to-goodness showboat," named The New Sensation, anchored on the bank of the Allegheny River. Haila discovers an old friend among the cast members, Greta Cole, who looks terrible, but things get worse for Greta when Russell Hogan, the leading man, is found stabbed to death in his cabin. Greta becomes the primary suspect, because it turns out she's the only one with a motive.

One of the reasons why Haila had enough of Jeff is "instead of settling down and becoming the fine photographer he could have been, had insisted on chasing about solving murders," but she picks up the telephone to ask him to help clear Greta from suspicion. This reunion between these two stubborn mules, who both refuse to give an inch, goes about as well as expected not helped by Jeff insisting on being funny when Haila wants to have a serious conversation. "Death is a Trouper" is not a lighthearted, thinly-plotted comedy mystery as the plot is absolutely packed!

There's not only the murder of Russell Hogan, but Greta goes missing under very unusual circumstances, Haila is knocked unconscious, a mysterious woman named Vivien somehow figures in the case and the inevitable second murder aboard The New Sensation. I'm delighted to report back the Rooses delivered on all of them!

Firstly, the solution to the murders turns on a tell-tale clue exonerating everyone, except the murderer, when understood of pointed out without needing much further explaining – only that person could have done it. Better yet is the motive for the first murder and how it relates to the second murder or ingeniously simple answer to the Vivien plot-thread. Or why Greta disappeared and the strange things that happened to her preceding the murder. Like I said, the Rooses packed the plot "Death is a Trouper" demonstrating they belonged as much to the Van Dine-Queen School as the screwball, murder-can-be-fun school. Only thing that can really be said against it, is that "Death is a Trouper" is not a novel-length Jeff and Haila Troy mystery. So much more could have been done with the showboat backdrop, the characters who work and live there and, yes, the troubles of the Troys. Other than not being a novel-length Jeff and Haila Troy mystery, "Death is a Trouper" is an excellent Jeff and Haila Troy novella with all the customary quality of the Rooses writing and plotting. Recommended!

If somebody, anybody, from Crippen & Landru stumbles across this review, the Kelley Roos novellas from The American Magazine would make a great collection like Philip Wylie's Ten Thousand Blunt Instruments and Other Tales of Mystery (2010). Just an idea for the suggestion box.

The Hangman's Tree (1949) by Dorothy Cameron Disney

Dorothy Cameron Disney was an American journalist, writer and columnist whose column, "Can This Marriage Be Saved," ran for three decades in Ladies' Home Journal, but she also authored nine detective novels – published between 1936 and 1949. I remember some were amused a woman named Disney wrote suspenseful, bloodcurdling tales of murder and detection when her work briefly resurfaced in the early 2010s. Disney's Death in the Backseat (1937) and The Strawstack Murders (1939) showed her novels aren't novelties on account of the name on the cover.

Mike Grost called Disney "one of Rinehart's most gifted followers" who "deserves to be revived." I highly rated Disney's two aforementioned novels, but, despite recent reprints from Wildside Press and Stark House Press of Death in the Backseat, Crimson Friday (1943) and The 17th Letter (1945), she remains largely forgotten, mostly out-of-print today. It probably didn't help Disney was not a wildly prolific writer who only wrote standalone mysteries. I honestly forgot about Disney as well, until I recently came across my copy of The Hangman's Tree (1949). Disney's ninth and final mystery novel. So decided to give it a go as it practically guarantees something good and different.

The Hangman's Tree brings a holidaying Dr. Victoria Grant from Connecticut to Charleston, South Carolina, to stay with an old friend during the town's Azalea Festival. Victoria's old friend is Margaret "Maggie" Fairlee, a rich woman, who abandoned a successful, self-made retail career to become the second wife of an old Charlestonian widower, Tradd Fairlee – whose first wife died under mysterious circumstances. She arrives when Charleston had already began its week of celebration and parades. Flags flying every where, battleships in the harbor open to the public, bomber squadrons flying above the city in formation and "contingent of pretty girls" who "were flocking in from small towns over the state to reign as Azalea Queens at the week-long festival." Pretty soon, Victoria notices something is brewing underneath the festive atmosphere.

She hasn't seen Maggie for years and finds her not only completely changed, but her physical changes appear to be a conscious copy of the looks and style of her predecessor, Rose Fairlee. Maggie has also desperately been trying to find out what, exactly, happened to Rose. And why there's a veil of mystery surrounding her passing. But a marriage haunted by her memory is not the only problem festering in the Fairlee household.

Maggie has a stepson, Stephen, whom she has reconnected with his childhood sweetheart, Valeria Trevelyn, because it was "the dearest dream of Stephen's mother to see them married." There are, however, two problems. Valeria is returning to Charleston to ride, as the Queen of Bodes Crossing, on the Azalea Parade, but the crown was handed over to her after it had been awarded to another girl – something Maggie fixed with the mayor of Bodes Crossing. So now Rena Mae Thripp, the girl in question, has come to Charleston to raise hell ("...I'll kill her and then I'll kill myself"). There's another woman, Deborah Parr, who arrived in town with designs of her own involving Stephen. So enough emotions, strained nerves, closely guarded secrets and potential motives for something bad to happen. Something bad happens when somebody is given a fatal dose of morphine and dies in Victoria's arms. A death that looks more like murder than suicide. That's when the problems really begin as nobody is willing to tell the truth, while a second dose of the stolen morphine and a loaded gun remain unaccounted for.

Victoria is determined to get to the bottom of the matter, but, in a place like Charleston, she very much is the trope of the outsider-on-the-inside ("...a visiting northerner, an outsider..."). Not merely an outsider to a close-knit group of family, friends and neighbors, but a close-knit community with its cultural heritage, history and families as a bulwark against any outsiders wanting cause trouble. Even if that trouble is someone trying to find the truth or help. Some of these people wouldn't turn a hair at the thought of covering up a murder or blackmail, but turn pale at the thought of scandal and the generational damage it would do their reputation and family's standing. She's not the only person who has to watch their step. The victim was the cousin of Lieutenant Sanford Clayton, of Homicide, but "acked the backing of the Charleston police force" on even this case ("...he didn't represent the law, but merely himself"). So this allows Victoria to eventually do some actual digging and amateur detective worked helped by a lucky break, or two, by being in the right place and time to see or overhear something she wasn't supposed to.

This case not involves a poisoning, long buried family secrets and other relatives, but also a bit of blackmail, a second murder and the dreary hangman's tree near Harmony Hall – a local hotel run by Penelope and Philo Higgs. The Hangman's Tree is tightly packed novel perhaps more reminiscent of those early, small town American mystery-thrillers like Herbert Brean's Wilders Walk Away (1949) and Hardly a Man is Now Alive (1950) or Theodore Roscoe's "Four Corners" series rather than the "Had-I-But-Known" writers Dorothy is associated with. Not a bad one either! I know The Hangman's Tree is not one of Disney's most celebrated novels as some have commented it's simply not as good as her earlier novels like Death in the Backseat, The Strawstack Murder or even The Balcony (1940). Suppose it helped not being able to clearly remembering those early novels, but genuinely enjoyed The Hangman's Tree. Disney even succeeded to sneak something pass my attention (because I can be shockingly dense at times) that sprang a genuinely surprising twist on me. I always appreciate a good twist. While the question of who-and why ran along more or less expected lines, it all holds together nicely.

I'm sure if I reread Disney's Death in the Backseat or The Strawstack Murder next, I would find them to be better detective novels, but by itself, The Hangman's Tree is not a bad if you can enjoy a small town mystery-thriller – served with a thick slice of Americana. Nor is it a terrible novel to go out on. This genre, of ours, has seen some truly terrible swan songs from once respected mystery writers. Disney's The Hangman's Tree is not one of them.

Locked and Loaded, Part 8: A Selection of Short Impossible Crime and Locked Room Mystery Stories

Back in 2020, I posted the first "Locked and Loaded" blog-post reviewing five, or six, randomly picked, usually uncollected short stories of the impossible variety and covered a 118 year period of short locked room mystery stories in the previous seven reviews – stretching from 1905 all the way up to 2023. So, as to be expected, the quality varies from story to story. However, the stories reviewed in the last two "Locked and Loaded" posts only had one really good short story, James H. Cobb's "Over the Edge" (2007). I wanted to do another one, before the end of the year, hoping to find another really good story or two. Fingers crossed!

So, before delving into the stories making up part 8, you can find my previous "Locked and Loaded" reviews here: part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and 7.

The first story is James Yaffe's "Mr. Kiroshibu's Ashes," originally published in the March, 1944, issue of Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, which he wrote when he was a 16-year-old locked room mystery enthusiast. Between 1943 and 1946, EQMM published six of Yaffe's short stories featuring the only member of the Department of Impossible Crimes ("...New York Homicide Squad's most obscure office"), Paul Dawn. This second story in the series takes place aboard the Florida Special where a holidaying Dawn is recognized by Dr. Howard Kiroshibu, of Kiroshibu Brothers Oriental Pottery, who's traveling with a black, copper urn – containing his late brother's ashes. Kiroshibu is afraid something is going to happen to the urn and asks Dawn to take urn to his compartment, but Dawn turns him down as he exclusively deals in impossible crimes. Shortly after their chat, Kiroshibu is shot behind the locked door of a railway carriage. Dawn has his locked room murder and excuse to start investigating.

Well, Yaffe was only sixteen when he wrote "Mr. Kiroshibu's Ashes" and so this story lacks the polish that comes with experience and maturity, but brash, youthful fallibility and the tact of a teenager has a charm of its own. I snickered when Dawn summarized Kiroshibu's story, "so you're traveling to Miami Beach to toss your brother's ashes into the Atlantic," or taking a peek inside the urn ("Henry Kiroshibu was of a non-descript, grayish color, and he only filled about half the urn"). Yaffe's choice of murderer and method aren't without interest, but failed to present the overall solution as something even remotely plausible or convincing. So not bad, but not great either.

Next up is "The Headmaster Helps One of His Boys," published in the January, 1982, issue of EQMM, written by the author of the Lyon and Bea Wentworth series, Richard Forrest. Several novels from this series are locked rooms and impossible crimes, but Forrest proved to be an extremely frustrating novelist. Forrest had some good impossible crime ideas, such as the false-solution from A Child's Garden of Death (1975) or the whole locked room setup and trick in Death at King's Arthur Court (2005), but always mired in bad or mediocre novels. So was curious to see what Forrest could do with the impossible crime in short story format.

Forrest's "The Headmaster Helps One of His Boys" reads like the introduction of a new series, but, apparently, this is the only appearance of the unnamed headmaster-detective of Greenfield Academy, New England – who helps out a student named Braxton. Braxton has serious problems back home as his mother is indicted for murdering her second husband, because she was the only other person inside their securely locked bedroom. So the headmaster decides to help his troubled pupil and begins to call in favors from ex-students to get his hands on information in order to solve the murder. It's funny how this short story is the exact opposite of Forrest's novel-length mysteries. This is a good, well-written short story with a fun detective who could have headed his own series, but the impossible crime and locked room-trick is rubbish. Forrest remains the most frustrating writer of locked room mysteries.

Bill Pronzini netted his first Shamus Award for best P.I. short story with "Cat's Paw." A short story originally published in 1983 as a hardcover booklet.

"Cat's Paw" finds the Nameless Detective patrolling the grounds of San Francisco's Fleishacker Zoological Gardens during a cold, foggy night when the fog "makes everything look like capering phantoms or two-dimensional cutouts." Nameless has been hired as an extra guard following the theft of several rare birds and some other endangered animals that go for premium prizes on the black market, but the zoo covers roughly seventy acres and difficult to police with only a few guards. This was still a few years before security cameras became more widely adopted. While patrolling the grounds, a gunshot rings out from the Lion House where Nameless and a colleague discovers the body of another night guard lying in an empty, locked feeding case – shot through the chest and clutching a gun. So it appears to be suicide as the building was locked up and they arrived less than 30 seconds after hearing the shot. That makes the only possible exit through one of the open cat-grottos at the rear of the Lion House, but "those cats would maul anybody who went out among 'em." Nameless knows this dodgy looking suicide is murder and, fortunately, he knows his way around a locked room murder.

Overall, Pronzini's "Cat's Paw" is a good and very fine P.I. short story making full use of its backdrop, especially in the lead-up to the shooting. Nameless likened walking around a zoo by night to a graveyard ("...ordinary enough during daylight hours... downright eerie after dark"). But as a detective story with a locked room mystery, it's neither spectacular nor particular fair. I still liked it as a P.I. short story and it's always fun to tag along with Nameless, but as an impossible crime story it was very little to offer. Fortunately, the next tale of the impossible by Pronzini is a different story!

Pronzini's "Ace in the Hole" originally appeared in the anthology Mean Streets (1986) in which Nameless has to act as an armchair detective, while drinking beer and playing poker. Eberhardt had made a bet with the other guys around the table he could "make sense out of the Gallatin thing within twenty-four hours." Lt. Jack Logan, one of the man around the poker table, who nearly nailed Frank Gallatin for racketeering and extortion charges. What they needed was an incriminating file from an accountant, named Lamar Trent, but, when they went to Trent's office, they heard a gunshot behind his locked office door. Only two people were inside when the shot was fired: Frank Galletin and Trent slumped behind his desk with a bullet in his skull. Just a handful of problems. Firstly, the office is thoroughly searched without the murder weapon or incriminating files turning up. And no gunshot residue on his hands. There simply was no time to dispose of the gun, files and a pair of gloves ("locked doors, disappearing guns—screwball stuff"). Even worse, Galletin claims somebody came up or down the fire escape, shot Trent through the open window and disappeared the same way. They checked this story and nobody could have used the fire escape, unless they happened to be invisible. So they Galletin shot Trent, but nothing can be done unless they figure out how he made all the evidence disappear from a locked office with police standing at the door ("just your kind of case, paisan").

For the next two hours, or so, they play five-card stud and drink beer while Nameless mulls over the puzzle. And, of course, he pieces everything together and only left the poker table to get a cold beer. Nameless takes joy in drawing out his solution as payback for making him work instead of just playing poker. I liked how the simple locked room-trick and solution revealed the supposedly clever Galletin to have been prize idiot after all. Fantastically fun!

By the way, I think an anthology of hardboiled, pulp-y P.I. locked room mysteries and impossible crimes is long overdue. Pronzini's "Ace in the Hole" or "Where Have You Gone, Sam Spade?" (1980) would be perfect for such an anthology (Tough Nuts to Crack).

John Nelson's "Magwitch Returns," originally published in the April, 1986, issue of Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, is an odd one and perhaps not truly a locked room mystery – at least not in the traditional sense. The setup is conventional enough as it begins with the police being called to the scene of an unmistakable suicide. A neighbor of one Andrew Thornton heard a gunshot coming from his apartment and when the landlord unlocked the door, they found him with a bullet in his head and gun on the floor. Thornton, "a police buff and a Dickens fanatic," left behind a string of clues turning the police investigation into a scavenger hunt. I wonder if J.A. Konrath was aware of Nelson's “Magwitch Returns” when he wrote "With a Twist" (2005), because the premises are strikingly similar. Konrath got so much more out of the idea than Nelson. Still an amusing take on the detective story, but poor purely taken as a locked room mystery.

Finally, John L. French's "Open and Shut," published in the July/August, 2003, issue of AHMM, which is obviously product of its time when CSI: Crime Scene Investigation along with its spin-off shows were at the height of their popularity. French is a retired crime scene supervisor who wrote articles ("A Brief History of DNA," 2006) for Future Mystery Anthology Magazine and occasionally had a short story published in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine. "Open and Shut" is French's only impossible crime story featuring a crime scene technician, Grace, who's called the scene of a suicide in College Town. A student shot himself behind the locked door of his bedroom while his roommates were still in the house. So an apparently routine case of "another overachieving high school student who couldn't handle the shock of getting B's in college," but a volume of Sherlock Holmes stories gives a classical twist to the case. When it comes to the locked room problem, I don't think this story will excite the pickier of locked room fanatics, but I enjoyed the overall story and how (SPOILER/ROT13) gur cybg jrag sebz fhvpvqr gb zheqre naq onpx gb fhvpvqr ntnva, orsber frggyvat ba na nppvqragny fubbgvat. Like I said, this story is very much a product of its time.

This was another poor, unexciting and rather disappointing haul for this blog series. Not necessarily because the stories were bad, most weren't, but Pronzini's "Ace in the Hole" is the only story that stands out and shines as a locked room mystery. So maybe the time has come to either retire "Locked and Loaded" or put it on hiatus for the foreseeable future. I'll try to pick something good, none-impossible crime related next. Stay tuned!

The Glass Tower Murders (2021) by Mikito Chinen

Last year, I came across the work of fan-lator Mitsuda Konno, formerly known as Mitsuda Madoy, who's translating first-rate Japanese detective fiction with "cosmmiicnana" such as Kie Houjou's superb "The Ryuuzen Clan" series and Danro Kamosaki's insane "Murder in the Golden Age of Locked Rooms" series – which have become personal favorites. I keep my fingers crossed Houjou's Jikuu ryokousha no sunadokei (The Time Traveler's Hourglass, 2019), Katou no raihousha (Visitors to the Isolated Island, 2020) and Meitantei ni kanbi naru shi wo (Delicious Death for Detectives, 2022) get official releases one day. I consider them to be the classics of tomorrow and a glimpse of what the detective story could involve into over the course of this century. That's a story for another day.

Mitsuda Konno has a few more pieces of forbidden fruit fanlations on his website and one title especially has been beckoning me for months.

Mikito Chinen's Garasu no tou no satsujin (The Glass Tower Murders, 2021) is described by Konno as "a mystery fan's mystery novel" that's "extremely tropey, and extremely self-aware about how tropey it is," which incidentally also makes it "good as an introduction to modern J-mystery" – dedicating "a lot of page time to explaining the appeal of its own genre." Ho-Ling Wong praised The Glass Tower Murders in his 2022 review for the meaningful way it used the genre's familiar tropes and concepts to create "a very entertaining puzzles that presented a surprising deep look at the genre" ("...basically a love letter to the shin honkaku subgenre"). Chinen's The Glass Tower Murders sounded like a trickier, more complicated and deeper shin honkaku version of Leo Bruce's Case for Three Detectives (1936). Well, I'm game!

The glass tower of the title is the setting of the story and home to Kozushima Tarou, a retired professor of biotechnology, who invented TRIDENT that "completely altered the course of gene therapy." This invention also made him a very rich man and allowed him to built the tower. A towering, cone-shaped building erected on the slope of Mt. Chogatake with glass walls and a spiral staircase at the center linking together the floor and rooms. The point of this cone-shaped building is called the Display Room where the "Kozushima Collection" is kept. Kozushima is not only a biotech genius, but "a devotee of mystery fiction" and has accumulated a huge collection of detective memorabilia from across the world ("is this Columbo's coat?"). Fittingly, the normally reclusive Kozushima has invited a small group of people to the Glass Tower to make an important announcement.

First of all, there's Kozushima's doctor, Ichijou Yuma, who pulls double duty as a Dr. Watson narrating the story. Sakaizumi Taiki, a chef, who's always called upon to cook lavish meals for Kozushima's events. Aoi Tsukiyo, a self-proclaimed Great Detective, styles herself after Sherlock Holmes, but another guest, Kagami Tsuyoshi of the Nagano Prefectural Police, says she always turns down cases that look too difficult to solve. Kuruma Koushin is a celebrated mystery novelist who made his name during the early days of the shin honkaku movement and "particularly known for his skill at creating locked room mysteries." Yumeyomi Suishou, a TV psychic, is the star of the Psychic Detective Case Files. Sakyo Kousuke is the editor-in-chief of Super Mystery Monthly Magazine known for its "scattershot approach" by "placing proper honkaku stories of logic and reasoning next to unbelievable tales of the paranormal." Lastly, the loyal butler and maid.

So there you have a fairly basic and typical setup for a conventional shin honkaku mystery novel. Conventional to the point you almost get déjà vu, however, that's the point as the story slowly, and playfully, begins to take a different track with these classic, time-honored tropes. Yuma not only narrates the story, playing the witless Watson to Tsukiyo's Sherlock Holmes, but this Watson is also a murderer who has an urgent reason to slip his employer a poisoned pill loaded with tetrodotoxin – which is the poison in pufferfish. Yuma figured if he declared Kozushima's death the result of a heart attack, "it won't be considered a crime," but his plan is completely derailed when Kozushima cries out for help over the telephone. That gives Yuma precious little time to get out of the room and create a very basic locked room setup, which he hopes will do the trick. When the door is opened with the master key, Yuma discovers Kozushima left a clue before dying. The letter "Y" written on the floor ("it must be a dying message"). Tsukiyo, of course, rejects any notion Kozushima died from natural causes or committed suicide. She gets to play detective as an avalanche blocked the road and the police won't be able to get to them for another day or two.

Roughly, the first quarter of The Glass Tower Murders plays out like a darkly humorous inverted mystery in which the murderer finds himself assisting the self-appointed Great Detective investigating his own crime. Something that could have come straight from an Anthony Berkeley or Leo Bruce novel! Yuma is not the only murderer roaming the Glass Tower. A second locked room murder soon follows the second one as Oita Shinzo, the butler, is brutally stabbed to death in the dining room with the door securely latched from the inside. The door being latched from the inside is not even the strangest aspect of the case. Somehow, the dining table was on fire with a message, "SPIRITED AWAY FROM CHOGATAKE," written on the tablecloth ("...a reference to a series of murders that happened in this region over a decade ago").

So now Yuma has a potential scapegoat and more than ever determined to help Tsukiyo find the murderer by being her Watson. However, the murderer is not done yet with creating locked room murders and other impossible situations. The Glass Tower Murders is not about its locked room murders and tricks. It's a detective novel about detective fiction with a cast of genre-savvy mystery readers who discuss various authors, novels, styles and history of the genre – particularly the development of the shin honkaku mystery. Not to mention the plot-thread about an mysterious, unpublished manuscript Kozushima's claims to have discovered that "completely overturn the history of the genre." And, of course, occasionally winking at the fourth wall ("maybe we are characters in a honkaku mystery set in a creepy mansion and just don't realize it"). Don't mistake The Glass Tower Murders for lightweight fluff or an excuse for Mikito Chinen to fanboy all over his favorite mystery writers, novels and series. The Glass Tower Murders is an incredibly dense, layered detective novel pulling off something truly amazing.

The Glass Tower Murders basically gives you three different, deeply intertwined mystery novels for the price of one. Firstly, there's the Berkeley-style inverted mystery involving Yuma poisoning Kozushima. Secondly, the conventional, classically-styled shin honkaku mystery ticking every box needed for such a novel. And that includes two challenges to the reader! This conventional portion of the novel concludes with Tsukiyo's equally conventional solution to exactly such a mystery, but the story is not over yet. So the last part offers an alternative take turning everything that happened before upside down. And brilliantly so! I can't say much more without risking serious spoilers, except how it reminded me just how popular and influential Ellery Queen is in certain non-English speaking parts of the world. Something that's not always appreciated or even noticed in the West.

Mikito Chinen's The Glass Tower Murders stands as a truly exceptional, self-aware meta-mystery novel that demonstrated you can have your cake and eat it too. You have, on the one hand, a typical shin honkaku mystery with a eccentric mansion, locked room murders, a dying message, cracking codes and a closed circle of suspects – completely shut off from the outside world. The solutions to the various mysteries of this conventional shin honkaku novel aren't half bad. Like the locked room-tricks behind the second and third murders, which give you everything you hope to get from a series of impossible crimes in a bizarre mansion. At the same time, the story goes much deeper than merely references to Hercule Poirot or the “Bizarre House Mysteries” series by Yukito Ayatsuji. Only to escape its own confines to prepare the firework show that would end the story. Simply fantastic!

I'm just not sure I would recommend The Glass Tower Murders as an introduction to the shin honkaku mystery, or the genre in general, because the plot demands some level of familiarity with the detective story. Not just for knowing who's who, or who wrote what and when, but in following the plot along as it twists and turns towards its inevitable conclusion. Today, it's easier than ever to read up on the Japanese shin honkaku mystery novel. Enough to fully appreciate The Glass Tower Murders.

So, in closing, all that's left to say is Chinen really took the meta-mystery to another level of consciousness with The Glass Tower Murders. Highly recommended.

The Hit List: Top 5 Favorite Mystery Short-Shorts

When patching together one of these lists, I always try to avoid the usual topic and opt for something slightly less obvious and original, "Top 10 Works of Detective Fiction Lost to History," "Top 10 Beneficiaries of the Reprint Renaissance" and "Top 10 None-English Detective Novels That Need to Be Translated," unless there's a good reason – like the 10th anniversary of the Rue Morgue Press shutting down. This time, I wanted to do a short story list, but not a basic list of favorite short stories or make it thinly-disguised locked room list.

So was considering starting working on a Halloween-themed list or do a part 2 of "Top 10 Favorite Hybrid Mysteries," when I got an idea. Why not do a short list of short-shorts?

The short-short detective story has admittedly not produced many classic or memorable examples, because it's tricky to setup and execute a good, satisfying detective story in 3-6 pages. So the short-short detective story is not the perfect vehicle to write a stunning and memorable detective story, but, going over them in my head and digging around on this blog, I quickly compiled a surprisingly solid top 5 – even having to cut a few candidates. I could have expanded the list into a top 10, but wanted the list to be short as well. I also changed the title of the list, "Top 5 Most Memorable Mystery Short-Shorts," because when it comes to short-shorts, everyone probably has a different reason why they remember a certain short-short – likely why everyone's top 5 picks would look very differently. That means there's something to disagree or nitpick about my top 5. Let me know in the comments.

"Leaving No Evidence" by Dudley Hoys (published in a 1938 issue of The Passing Show and collected in The Realm of the Impossible, 2017)

A short-short barely counting 6 pages bringing a traveler, named Cortland, to a remote, Lebanese mountain village where there's a legend of The Thing. Something that takes people. So he has pay good money to get some of the locals to guide him to snow-capped mountaintop, but during their climb two men disappear as by magic. I was surprised how clearly I remembered this story and it's original solution to the impossible disappearances. That makes it inclusion a no brainer.

Note for the curious: the barely 2-page excerpt from Aleksis Kivi's Seitsemän veljestä (Seven Brothers, 1870), also collected in The Realm of the Impossible, was considered, but "Leaving No Evidence" had more to offer.

"Who Killed Baker?" by Edmund Crispin and Geoffrey Bush (published in the October 30, 1950, edition of The Evening Standard and collected in Fen Country, 1979)

This is perhaps not the most original or surprising pick, but it's the most well-known short-short and a minor classic of its kind. Gervase Fen tells an acquaintance how Detective Inspector Casby solved a murder and answered the titular question. You can call this story gimmicky, a riddle in short story form, but it's a great gimmick and solution.

"Diamonds in Paradise" by Ellery Queen (published in the September, 1954, issue of Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine and collected in Queens Full, 1965)

Queen's "Diamonds in Paradise" is not only one of my favorite short-shorts, but one of my favorite dying message stories. A surprisingly simple, straightforward short-short concerning a thief helping himself to some diamonds at The Paradise Garden, but ends up falling to his death while trying to escape – no diamonds are found on him. When the police asked the dying thief where he had hid the diamonds, he answered with his last breath "diamonds in paradise." Not only a clever take on the dying message story, but a surprisingly realistic one as well. Exactly the kind of story Isaac Asimov always tried to write for his Black Widower series.

"The Case of the Blue Bowl" by E.X. Ferrars (published in a December, 1958, edition of the London Evening Standard and collected in The Casebook of Jonas P. Jonas and Other Mysteries, 2012)

I came across this short-short fairly recently in the Crippen & Landru collection The Casebook of Jonas P. Jonas. A collection that begins with six short-shorts featuring Jonas P. Jonas, a retired private investigation, which appeared in the London Evening Standard during the second week of December 1958. "The Case of the Blue Bowl" is the standout of this short-lived series as Jonas solves the murder of a village miser based on the blue bowl left on the victim's doorstep. A 1930s village mystery in miniature!

"You Have a Friend at Fengrove National" by John Sladek (published in a 1968 issue of Tit-Bits and collected in Maps: The Uncollected John Sladek, 2002)

John Sladek gave me three short-shorts to chose from. A short-short genre parody ("The Locked Room," 1972) and a Thackeray Phin story ("It Takes Your Breath Away," 1974), but I picked the criminally overlooked and amusing "You Have a Friend at Fengrove National." A humorous tale about a criminal who worked out a clever cheque deposit scheme, but every thing goes wrong when the uncouth criminal classes decided to make a bank withdrawal. And ruin everything! Maps: The Uncollected John Sladek has a section, "Sladek Incognito," gathering eight of his still practically unknown crime short-shorts in which criminals fall prey to their own cleverness or simply bad luck. This one is, in my opinion, the best of Sladek's short crime pieces.

Half-Mast Murder (1930) by Milward Kennedy

Milward Kennedy was an English civil servant, journalist, literary critic, reviewer and mystery writer, who was a founding member of the Detection Club, but the bulk of his novels and short stories have been out-of-print and largely forgotten about for decades – even during the reprint renaissance of the past ten years. So my only exposure to Kennedy's work has been through his small, modest contributions to the Detection Club's round-robin novels The Floating Admiral (1931) and Ask a Policeman (1933).

I have been aware of Kennedy and two of his mystery novels, The Corpse on the Mat (1929) and Death to the Rescue (1931), have been longtime residents of my locked room mystery wishlist. Kennedy's detective fiction is still waiting to be swept up by that reprint wave. Only two novels, Half-Mast Murder (1930) and Murder in Black and White (1931), returned to print over the years. I decided to just give Half-Mast Murder a shot to see what this forgotten Detection Club member could do on his own with a novel-length mystery novel.

Half-Mast Murder is Kennedy's fourth mystery novel taking place at Cliff's End, "a house of some social standing," situated on the coast and property of "one of the Big Noises of the world," Professor Paley, who's an authority on international politics, economics and war – playing "a big part in the creation of the Succession States to the old Austro-Hungarian Empire." Professor Paley's books and strong opinions make him "very unpopular with some people." Currently, the professor is working on his next book supposedly to contain some remarkable revelations about the Great War ("moral dynamite") and has come down from London to Cliff's End to write the book. Professor Paley has brought along a nice, close-knit group of future suspects.

There's his widowed sister, Mrs. Arkwright, and his niece, Cynthia, who has a brother, Julian, who works for an armaments manufacturer and is not on speaking terms with his anti-war uncle. Julian is in the neighborhood. A longtime friend of the professor, Bertie Trent, who was nevertheless overheard saying Paley's "only fit for heaven." And the sooner the better. George Shipman, a man of leisure, is only there for Cynthia. Finally, a visitor from America, a Mr. Quick, who came to see the professor as a representative of the Association for World Harmony (Inc.). This first chapter ends with the party rushing down to the octagonal-shaped summerhouse, where the professor has been working, after the butler failed the get an answer. So they break down the door to discover the professor slumped in a chair with a knife-handle sticking out of his chest.

Superintendent Guest and his men arrive at Cliff's End to take charge, but the problem facing them is a multifaceted, messy tangle of clued, red herrings and uncooperative suspects. For one, there's the problem of the locked summerhouse and why the murderer created a locked room puzzle, because, even without the locked door, it looked too dodgy to be suicide. And there are other puzzling peculiarities to the case. Why was the flag on the roof of the summerhouse flying half-mast? Why was there a bloodstained bathing suite stuffed into the safe? What's the stain of the sliver wood Guest too from railing? What's the significance of the camera and a spool of fishing-line found at the crime scene? However, the plot and Guest's investigation primarily revolves around picking apart everyone's movements around the time of the murder and making time tables.

So, yes, Half-Mast Murder is firmly rooted in the much maligned, so-called “humdrum” school of Freeman Wills Crofts and John Rhode, but two chapters standout – Chapter XV ("EXAMINES EVIDENCE") and Chapter XXI ("AUGURS AN ARREST"). In Chapter XV, Guest tackles the problem of "how came the summer-house to be locked and the key inside?" Admittedly, the possibilities Guest considers and the actual locked room-trick could hardly be called original even in 1930, but have seen put to worse used than here. Chapter XXI ends with Guest giving the Chief Constable, what he then thinks is, the correct solution. Only for it to be reduced to a false-solution. I'm afraid Kennedy's Half-Mast Murder is a very bad case of the false-solution outshining the correct solution. More on that in a moment.

I should first mention Half-Mast Murder has a strange peculiarity that should have been a drawback, but ended up saving the book from becoming a total loss. Half-Mast Murder is still very much an early, 1920s drawing room mystery at heart as the crime scene resembled a busy thoroughfare with practically everyone popping in-and out at the time the professor was being murdered. So more than one person had a hand in creating the confusing crime scene, which is always a bit hard to swallow and takes some talent to pull-off convincingly. But here it safeguarded the story's best parts from the insultingly bad ending. Such as what happened to the missing material for the professor's next book and why the flag was half-mast. And I still enjoyed the (basic) locked room puzzle.

So I would have been perfectly happy with Guest's false-solution from Chapter XXI as it bundled those best ideas and plot-points in the best possible solution to the murder as it was presented – while using those last few chapters plugging the gaps. Sure, it would not have been a blistering original, rug-puller of a whodunit, but would have happily recommended it to fans of Crofts and Rhode. Kennedy thought the ending needed something more than mere competence and opted for pulling a "surprise twist" out of his ass. It stunk! I don't know what's the worse offense here: the flagrant lack of fair play (you can't even guess the who or why) or the solution to who and why. Something so cringe, you want to hide it from outsiders (SPOILER/ROT13: gur ohgyre qvq vg). I hope the Detection Club put Kennedy on trial for this faux pas and had to pay Rhode's bar tab as punishment.

Milward Kennedy has always been one of those notable gaps in my Golden Age detective reading and hoped more for Half-Mast Murder, but it ended up dampening my interest in Kennedy just a little bit. On the other hand, even the best of Kennedy's contemporaries had some terrible mystery novels to their name. Martin Edwards praised Kennedy in The Story of Classic Crime in 100 Books (2017), "a leading exponent of the village mystery," highlighting The Murderer of Sleep (1932), Poison in the Parish (1935) and the previously mentioned Death to the Rescue. A mystery novel based on a real-life case that was withdrawn from circulation after a libel lawsuit. So I won't write Kennedy off completely, but the next one better be good.