Bughouse Chess: "The Pawns of Death" (1974) by Bill Pronzini and Jeffrey Wallmann

Bill Pronzini and Jeffrey Wallmann's "The Pawns of Death" originally appeared in the August, 1974, issue of the short-lived, quarterly publication Charlie Chan Mystery Magazine under a shared pseudonym "Robert Hart Davis" – a house name of Renown Publications. Charlie Chan Mystery Magazine was apparently Renown Publication's attempt to mine past glory and licensed the character to carry their new quarterly. Each issue has a "brand new" Charlie Chan novella as its marque, but "an idea whose time had probably passed by then" and the magazine got discontinued after only four issues.

"The Pawns of Death" is the fourth and last of these newly written Charlie Chan pasticheWhile I enjoyed Earl Derr Biggers' original novels, especially Behind That Curtain (1928) and Charlie Chan Carries On (1930), the pastiches would have passed under my radar had it not been pointed out by one of the usual suspects, Robert Adey's Locked Room Murders (1991). Even then I didn't immediately connect "The Pawns of Death" by Robert Hart Davis in Adey with Pronzini and Wallmann's "The Pawns of Death" reprinted by Wildside Press. But eventually the penny dropped. And someone, somewhere, a long time ago recommended it as an excellent pastiche.

I've aired my general skepticism about detective pastiches in the past, because trying to write a good, convincing or even a passable pastiche always struck me as walking through a minefield – situated in the middle of a field of rakes. A pastiche either fails miserably to measure up to the original or so bad it stains it or being a pastiche detracts from a writer's own qualities. Good ideas or writing whose qualities get lessened or overlooked, because they're presented as imitations. For example, I think the titular novella from Sherlock Holmes and the Chinese Junk Affair and Other Stories (1998) could have been more than a curio or another Sherlock Holmes imitation had Roy Templeman created his own detective-character. There have, of course, been writers who absolutely nailed a detective pastiche. Jill Paton Walsh's completion of Dorothy L. Sayers' last Lord Peter Wimsey novel (Thrones, Dominations, 1998) and continuation of the series (A Presumption of Death, 2002) are prime example of excellent pastiches. Dale C. Andrew and Kurt Sercu's "The Book Case" (2007), starring a 100-year-old Ellery Queen, is personal favorite that added to the EQ canon and lore.

However, finding that Goldilocks zone for pastiches appears to be an incredibly difficult and tricky thing to do. It seems much more success is to be gained with original homages (James Scott Byrnside's Goodnight Irene, 2018), outright parodies (Barry Ergang's "The Audiophile Murder Case," 1982) or a measured combination of a homage, parody and pastiche (Leo Bruce's Case for Three Detectives, 1936). So that brings us to the all important question to be answered: were Pronzini and Wallmann successful in finding and landing "The Pawns of Death" in the Goldilocks zone? Let's find out!

Charlie Chan is in Paris, France, to attend the Transcontinental Chess Tournament at the "luxurious and Gallic" Hotel Frontenac ("his interest in, and love of, the intricate game was well known throughout the chess world"). Chan is accompanied by his friend and Parisian lawman, Prefect Claude DeBevre. While their attendance is purely a pleasure trip, there are rising tensions and hostilities between the defending champion and his young challenger. Roger Mountbatten is the reigning, three-time Transcon champion who accuses his American challenger, Grant Powell, of cheating during their first few of potential twenty-four games ("...continue to meet head-to-head until one of them acquired a total of 12-1/2 points and was crowned the new champion of Transcon chess"). They do not much to hide their mutual animosity.

When Powell wins another match, Mountbatten refuses to shake hands, "yet another example of unethical if not downright illegal chess to boot," before storming off angrily. Powell takes childish joy in publicly needling Mountbatten ("we're in the presence of the soon-to-be dethroned Transcon champion in all his bitter, whining glory"). Even their respective entourage get in on the action and make very public scenes in the hotel. Charlie Chan is a keen student of the human condition and knows "harsh emotions such as those which had been displayed could all too easily erupt into violence." There's a scene to which neither Chan nor Claude DeBevre are privy, except the reader, which shows someone at the hotel already tried to commit cold blooded murder.

Only problem is that the gun refused to work. So the would-be-assassin decides on a more sophisticated method befitting the world's most cerebral game. Something like "a locked-room death to puzzle the police completely" ("chess and a baffling murder what a beautifully ironic combination").

Surely enough, it does not take long before a body, shot to death, is discovered in a hotel room with the windows securely latched and the door locked from the inside, but the sheer impossibility of the murder is not only mystery. Firstly, the victim is not who you would expect from the premise. Secondly, the odd "bullet" the police digs out of the mattress. This is not the last murder at the hotel. A mortally wounded man is discovered in another locked hotel room who mutters with his dying breath a last, cryptic remark ("another murder, this time with an enigmatic dying message"). The whole situation has Claude DeBevre perplexed, "a gun that will not fire, bullets that cannot work, not one but two locked-room murders," but Chan has a pretty good how the murder was committed. And narrows down his suspects to only two names. But who? Chan baits a little trap to lure out and ensnare the killer.

So where does "The Pawns of Death" fall as a pastiche? I say it falls just within the Goldilocks zone. First of all, Pronzini and Wallmann's portrayal of Charlie Chan is no smudge or stain on the original. I've never seen any of the movies, but understand they didn't do the legacy of the character any long-term good. This incarnation is not an exact one-on-one copy of the Charlie Chan who appeared in the six original novels, however, the character is treated respectfully and made me want to revisit Behind That Curtain or Charlie Chan Carries On. So, on that account alone, "The Pawns of Death" is a reasonably successful pastiche of the character. But what about the plot? Well, the plot is a bit rough around the edges and the characters, setting and story obviously written around the locked room-trick and dying message idea. That helped in piecing everything together long before the murderer walks into Chan's trap. I had completely solved it by the end of Chapter X and that was before the second murder with the dying message clue. The discovery and nature of the strange bullet, sort of, gives away what type of trick must have been used, which is not one that always enjoys great popularity among impossible crime fanatics (SPOILER/ROT13: n uvqqra qrivpr) and the second murder hardly qualifies as a proper locked room puzzle (SPOILER/ROT13: n qhcyvpngr xrl). So the rough, unpolished plot is what pushed this novella to the outer edge of the so-called Goldilocks zone. Regardless, I tremendously enjoyed reading this continuation of the Charlie Chan series and interesting considering how relatively early it came in Pronzini's career.

Reportedly, Pronzini "doesn't seem to think much of this early effort," but it contains some ideas he would return to later and improve. Such as the trick to the first murder or the dying message inside a locked room, of which the classic Nameless Detective short story "The Pulp Connection" (1979) is the best example. A locked room dying message also features in the more recent The Paradise Affair (2021). The characters and plot would actually translate very well to a Carpenter and Quincannon novel, because there so much to expand upon (the chess feud, investigating the cheating accusations, the first attempt and locked rooms and dying message) with the added benefit of a charming historical setting. All it needs is a better solution to the first locked room murder and second impossibility can be easily fixed by having the scared, dying victim lock the door to keep the murderer from coming back ("...the workings of a dying man's fevered mind") – consequently locked out any form of immediate life saving help. Yes, a routine locked room-trick, or solution, but allowable for a second, or third, additional locked room. I'm rambling and flogging my hobby horse again.

So, yes, "The Pawns of Death" is not a groundbreaking locked room mystery, but it's a perfectly serviceable and thoroughly entertaining pastiche. And piqued my interest in the other three Charlie Chan Mystery Magazine novellas as they were written by Dennis Lynds/Michael Collins. Who has been frequently discussed on this blog under his "William Arden" penname and reviewed his short story "The Bizarre Case Expert" (1970) a few years ago. "The Silent Corpse" honestly sounds like a cracking yarn. I also plan on tracking down Pronzini's other, earlier locked room short stories like "The Perfect Crime" (1968), "A Killing in Xanadu" (1980), "Cat's Paw" (1986) and "Ace in the Hole" (1986), but I'm flogging that poor hobby horse again. And you get the idea by now. You can expect a future review of "The Silent Corpse," before I decide whether "Walk Softly, Strangler" (1973) and "The Temple of the Golden Horde" (1974) are worth it. To be continued...

A (final) note for the curious: Pronzini and Wallmann collaborated on another short locked room mystery, "The Half-Invisible Man" (1974), which stands out not for its plot machinations, but its detective character. Sadly, the story is Patrolman Fred Gallagher's only appearance.

Oh, just one last thing: I really went on, bloating this review, but didn't even touch upon how the curious murder weapon dated the setting of the story as no earlier than the 1950s, but likely somewhere around the late 1960s or early '70s. Charlie Chan made his first appearance in The House Without a Key (1925) and if this novella takes place close to its publication date, Chan has barely aged a day in nearly fifty years!