"School seems in a bit of a mess."- Carolus Deene (Leo Bruce's Death at St. Asprey's School, 1967)
Last
week, I posted a review of Gladys Mitchell's The
Devil at Saxon Wall (1935) and was helped in the
comment-section by the editor of Sleuth's
Alchemy: Cases of Mrs. Bradley and Others (2005), Nick
Fuller, with picking my next read in this series by going through the
titles residing on my to-be-read pile – starting with a dozen
possibilities and ended with two candidates. My choices had boiled
down to either The
Longer Bodies (1930) and Laurels Are Poison (1942).
I
decided to go with the latter as it was a personal favorite of
Mitchell, who drew on her own, "fondly evoked," memories
of attending a teacher's trainer college for the story's setting. The
result is a mystery novel "filled with high-spirited dialogue"
and "camaraderie," written around an unusual plot, which
was eerily bizarre and weirdly humorous. And the book introduced
several characters who'll make regular appearances in subsequent
novels (e.g. The
Worsted Viper, 1943). One of them even becomes an occasional
stand-in for Mrs. Bradley, but more about that later.
Laurels
Are Poison is not an unimportant milepost in the series history
and the plot, with some minor qualifications, delivers on the promise
made by its reputation.
The
story casts Mrs. Bradley, often referred here to as Mrs. Croc, in the
role of Warden of Athelstan Hall, Cartaret College, where her
presence had been requested by the Principal, Miss Du Mugne, who
desired a discreet inquiry from the famous psycho-analyst and
criminologist – concerning the disappearance of the previous
Warden. Miss Munchan was taken ill at the College End of Term Dance,
but not "the slightest trace" has "come to light"
of her whereabouts in the ten weeks that have since passed. There's a
reason to believe something serious might have happened to the
previous Warden.
Miss
Munchan had been a biology teacher at Cuddy Bay's County Secondary
School for Girls and "a child was killed in the school
gymnasium," briefly before she took her leave, but the death
was officially ruled to be an accident and the school was exonerated
from all blame – which the girl's grandfather refused to accept.
And had to be temporarily hospitalized in a mental asylum. Only a
month after the inquest the police received a letter, written in Miss
Munchan's name, suggesting she wanted to come clean about the death
of the girl. However, when the police questioned her she denied all
knowledge of the letter and vacated her teaching position.
So
Mrs. Bradley has a lead to work on when she arrives at the teacher's
training college, but her attention is initially occupied by a rash
of jokes, rags and some outright malicious pranks plaguing the
college dorms.
During
a math lesson, a cabinet in the classroom burst open and "a
couple of assorted vipers" spilled out, which created quite a
sensation, but the pranks got progressively worst. A bath was allowed
to overflow and a thick piece of string had been dangerously
stretched across the floor. The clothes of two poor sisters, whose
family had sacrificed in order to get them to college, were torn to
shreds and the hair of another girl was cut short as she slept. One
night, the peace was disturbed by an chilling, unearthly noice, which
was ascribed to "the ghost of Athelstan." All of this
culminates in the violent death of the college cook, Mrs. Castle,
whose lifeless body was dragged by the police from a nearby river.
Mrs.
Bradley has a lot to deal with in this case and early on in the book
took the new Sub-Warden of Athelstan Hall, Deborah Hall, took into
her confidence. She looks favorably upon the young woman, like "a
benevolent snake," and plays cupid by engineering a meeting
between Deborah and her nephew, Jonathan, who are engaged by the end
of the book – who return, as a married couple, in My
Father Sleeps (1944), The
Croaking Raven (1966) and Lovers,
Make Moan (1981).
And
then there are the three plucky students, Alice Boorman, Kitty
Trevelyan and Laura Menzies, who refer to themselves as the Three
Musketeers. They would appear together in the previously mentioned
The Worsted Viper and Death
and the Maiden (1947), but Laura became Mrs. Bradley
secretary and reportedly took center-stage in some of the
middle-period novels (when Mrs. Bradley became Dame Beatrice). Those
three are primarily responsible for the high-spirited, energetic tone
of the story and even do some (unintentional) detection (e.g. when
they fished the victim's corset from the river). However, their
presence also had two noticeable drawbacks.
One
of them is that they were, partially, used as a vehicle for Mitchell
to indulge in a stroll down memory lane. It's true that the rags and
pranks were an important cog in the machine of the plot, but, until
the cook was murdered halfway through, the story felt like Mitchell
was taking the time to enjoy the setting of the teacher's college. Or
to put it more accurately, the plot often felt like it was a pace or
two behind the spirited story-telling. Secondly, I knew that Deborah,
Laura, Alice and Kitty would become (semi) regular characters in the
series and this practically dried up the entire pool of potential
suspects. Those girls really usurped the character-department of the
book.
So
it's to Mitchell's credit that the revelation of the murderer's
identity was both memorable and did not disappoint, but, out of
necessity, this person had to be mentally unbalanced in order to
explain some of the inexplicable actions that drove the plot – such
as the whole rigmarole with the college skeleton or throwing the
corset into the river. A slightly more sane murderer would probably
have acted very differently.
Overall,
Laurels Are Poison might not be the best entry in the Mrs.
Bradley series, but the story is told with zest and gusto, which
served perfectly as an introduction to a host of new characters and a
new phase in the series. On top of that, the solution to the case,
although not entirely perfect, is memorable and better put together
than the explanations found in some of the subsequent novels (e.g.
The
Rising of the Moon, 1945). So the book did not leave me
disappointed.
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