One of the more obscure
mystery writers to reemerge from the shrouded mist of the past during
this current Renaissance Age is "Francis
Duncan," a pseudonym of William Underhill, who authored twenty
detective novels over as many years and were largely forgotten for
decades – until Random House decided to reprint him back in 2015.
Murder
Has a Motive (1947) and So
Pretty a Problem (1950) were undoubtedly worthy of being
resurrected.
Back in October, Dean
Street Press revived the work of an equally obscure, long-since
forgotten writer, Francis
Vivian, whose detective stories beg to be compared with Duncan.
Most notably, they both
have likable, humanist series-detectives and, stylistically, appear
to be very similar. John Norris, of Pretty
Sinister Books, posted a comment on my review of The
Sleeping Island (1951) saying how Vivian's Darkling Death
(1956) reminded him of Duncan's Behold
a Fair Woman (1954). There are, however, differences between
the two. Duncan was a more polished, literary writer with a firmer
grasp on characterization, but Vivian tended to have tighter, better
clued and more original plots (e.g. The
Singing Masons, 1950) – which makes them more satisfying as
pure detective stories. And the biggest difference is that Vivian's
Gordon Knollis is the consummate policeman, while Duncan's Mordecai
Tremaine quintessential amateur sleuth.
Vivian made me want to
return to Duncan's detective fiction for a second look and had saved
one of those recent reprints for those cold, dark days before
Christmas.
Murder for Christmas
(1949) has all the trappings of a traditional, wintry Christmas
detective story in the spirit of C.H.B. Kitchin's Crime
at Christmas (1934), Agatha Christie's Hercule
Poirot's Christmas (1938), Georgette Heyer's Envious
Casca (1941) and Ngaio Marsh's Tied
Up in Tinsel (1972). But the writing lifts this one above
your average, Yuletide mystery novel.
The stage of the story is
an ancient hall, Sherbroome House, which had been the seat of the
Barons of Sherbroome for centuries and sighs under the weight of
history, but their descendants had not lived in the house for
generations and the place became overgrown, derelict and dreary –
until Benedict Grame bought it. Grame is a Mr. Pickwick of a man who
loves "the atmosphere of the Dickensian Christmas" with "all of the festivities we associate with the season."
So, once every year, he gathers a group of relatives, friends and
associates at his house "to enjoy Christmas in a really
old-fashioned way."
A new addition to the
party this year is the retired tobacconist, hopeless romanticist and
potent murder-magnet, Mordecai Tremaine, who has a deep-rooted
passion for criminology and sentimental literature – reading the
treacle-laden magazine Romantic Stories throughout the series.
Tremaine always reminds me of Agatha Christie's Mr.
Satterthwaite. An elderly, benevolent and sentimental soul who
gets all dreamy-eyed when confronted with young people who are deeply
in love. But this close ally of lovers everywhere also has a
shadow-side to his personality.
Tremaine has an appetite
for detection, "the excitement of the chase" and "the
keenness of testing his brain against the cunning of a murderer,"
but he's aware the price of his hobby is "the destruction of a
human creature." A mystery is something he simply could not
resist. And the promise of a mystery is what lured him to Sherbroome
House.
A postscript had been
added to Tremaine's invitation by Grame's confidential secretary,
Nicholas Blaise, telling him there's "something wrong" at
Sherbroome House.
When he arrives at the
house, Tremaine finds exactly what you'd expect from a Christmas
party in an old-fashioned mystery novel: there are two young lovers,
Roger Wynton and Denys Arden, but her guardian, Jeremy Rainer, is
dead-set against the marriage. Grame's hermit-like sister, Charlotte,
and a close friend, Gerald Beechley, who has a penchant for practical
jokes. Rosalind Marsh is the cool-headed, cynical owner of a
curio-and art shop and Lucia Tristam is a widow with her sights set
on either Grame or Rainer. Professor Lorring is "drawn after
Ebenezer Scrooge" and openly defies the spirit of Christmas.
The party is rounded out by a married couple, the Napiers. Just about
as unexpected, Tremaine finds that the jolly, good natured spirit of
the season is only on the surface. And that the party has an
inexplicable animosity towards the lavishly decorated Christmas tree.
So the snow-covered
countryside provides "a seasonable background" to the
apparent jolly Christmas party at Sherbroome House, but to Tremaine
everything feels unreal. And has the feeling that, sooner or later,
you were going to find yourself in the middle of a nightmare.
Well, the inevitable
happens when the household is awakened very early on Christmas
morning by screaming and they find a "fantastically clothed body
sprawled under the Christmas tree" that had been despoiled of
its gift. Someone had shot Father Christmas!
The policeman placed in
charge of the investigation is Superintendent Cannock, a friend of
Inspector Jonathan Boyce, who has been told about Tremaine and wants
to use him as "a sort of unofficial observer," but his
fellow guests are aware he's a detective and are as reluctant to talk
to him as they are to the police – making it all the more difficult
to sort out the pack of lies confronting them. However, Tremaine
slowly, but surely, unravels a cruel, complicated and fascinating
plot that resulted in the unfortunate murder of Father Christmas. A
plot that, in some ways, reminded me of Nicholas Brady's The
House of Strange Guests (1932). But the plot also has its
weak points.
Duncan was a good writer,
who knew how to tell a story and characterize, which is probably why
all of the important clues hinge on the behavior of the characters,
but these are more hints than clues. And they're not enough to help
you pinpoint the murderer or the motive. There are barely any
physical clues and important pieces of information are given too late
into the game or not at all, which distracts from an otherwise
well-written story and clever plot. A long-time mystery reader can
probably half-guess, half-deduce the murderer's identity, but
crossing the t's and dotting the i's is a lot harder to do. And
finding out the somewhat original motive is next to impossible.
So, purely as a detective,
Murder for Christmas is not going to make the shortlist of
all-time best country house mysteries, but as a seasonal detective
story, the book is definitely a cut above most Christmas mystery
novels – a category of detective fiction that has yet to produce a
genuine classic. What makes Murder for Christmas stand out is
the great, often evocative writing and actually making the Christmas
celebration part of the plot (e.g. the village carollers, the
Christmas tree and the Santa Claus customs). Something you can't say
of every Christmas-themed detective novel.
Unless you're an old
humbug, Murder for Christmas comes recommended as a pleasant,
leisure read for the holidays.
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