7/7/24

Gotta Knock a Little Harder: "Knockin' On Locked Door" (2014) by Aosaki Yugo

Recently, this blog went through another period in which the locked room mystery and impossible crime reviews crowded everything else out, which I always correct after a while until it happens again – starting the correction this time with a review of Agatha Christie's Peril at End House (1932). So wanted to stable my hobby horse to focus attention elsewhere, however, someone decided to put together the "New Locked Room Library." In May, I received the list with selected titles, "the result is exquisite," to be voted on for inclusion in the new, updated Locked Room Library. Surprisingly, there's enough exotic material included I either hadn't read yet, were unknown to me or had no idea they were even available.

So this not an excuse to jump right back on my hobby horse, but simply doing homework to be an informed voter when the time comes to cast my ballots.

I wasn't exaggerating when saying the first selection has some "exotic material," which ranges from the expected novels and short stories to games, game segments, radio-plays and fan fiction – even a handful of so-called fanlations. I reviewed a fanlation of Ooyama Seiichiro's short story "Kanojo ga Patience wo korosu hazu ga nai" ("She Wouldn't Kill Patience," 2002) and today's subject is another one. But is it a short story that belongs in the 21st century locked room library? Let's find out!

Aosaki Yugo is a popular, award-winning mystery writer who debuted with the novel Taiikukan no satsujin (The Gymnasium Murder, 2012) and has since produced two collections of short stories in the "Knockin' On Locked Door" series. "Tokuma shoten" ("Knockin' On Locked Door," 2014), originally published in Dokuraku magazine, introduces the reader to the two private investigators of the Knockin' On Locked Door Detective Agency, Gotenba Tori and Katanashi Hisame. A specialized agency with the specialized detectives who split "responsibilities according to the nature of the puzzle." Tori is a specialist in the seemingly impossible ("...strong in elucidating tricks"), while Hisame's "forte is in searching for motives and reasons." So a series intertwining the puzzle plot, or howdunits, with equally puzzling motives (whydunits). Their first client who comes knocking ("...no intercom is provided") presents them with exactly such a case.

Kasumiga Mizue's husband is the well-known painter, Hideo, nicknamed "The Poet of the Sky," who has been murdered under inexplicable circumstances. Hideo was remodeling his attic room into a studio and spent entire days there, until the previous day. Hideo had not come down from the attic room/studio nor does he respond to the knocks on the locked door, which is when they decide to force their way inside and find Hideo's body lying in the middle of the room – a knife planted in his back. The only way in, or out, of the locked studio is the door as the skylight was fixed and solid in place. One of the six paintings in the studio was completely over painted with red.

So how was it done? Because the locked room specialist quickly finds out the lock on the door leaves precious little room for manipulation ("...this 'pin-and-thread' thing would be hard to implement"). Why even bother creating a locked room scenario when there's no question of suicide? The victim was stabbed in the back with a knife that was wiped clean and rarely locked the door behind him. There's always the question of whodunit. Was it the wife, the son or the visiting friend and art dealer?

While not playing entirely fair, the explanation delivers as the locked room-trick is completely original and beautifully balances on the double motive. The motive for the murder and the reason why the murder was turned into a locked room mystery. Only thing holding "Knockin' On Locked Room" from a status as an instant impossible crime classic is that you have no shot at figuring out the reason behind it all, which is a shame, because the way in which the how and why are put together is incredibly pleasing. Not to mention that I expected something much simpler and less original from the premise, which fortunately turned out not to be the case.

So, all in all, "Knockin' On Locked Door" is a solid introduction to the series with a plot standing on the threshold of being a minor impossible crime classic and sports a truly original locked room-trick. Not a perfectly executed detective story, but a really good one deserving to be translated and would love the read the rest of the series.

Note for the curious: If you're wondering in which direction I expected the solution was headed, I thought the locked room came about by accident. Sort of. Hideo rarely locked himself into the studio ("...disliked the lock and rarely used it"), but he might have done this time. Why? Someone had to paint red all over one of the canvases and Hideo was already in the studio. So why make things more complicated than needed, but why would he deface one of his own paintings? More on that in a moment. First, the problem of the locked attic room: the room is described as surprisingly large, presumably high, where "the fierce rays of August sun" coming through the round skylight light the room – which gave me an idea. It's possible for those fierce rays of sunshine to hide a small, round cutout in the glass when looking up. A small, round cutout through which a knife can be dropped, but that might not have even been its original purpose. The culprit could have used the cutout to drip red paint on one of the paintings and remained up there to gloat, but saw Hideo (for some reason) painting over the vandalized painting (like trying to cover it up and why he locked the door) and that (again for some reason) angered the culprit. And dropped a knife, while Hideo was bending over. Not a particular good solution, or a very well developed one, but that's the idea I was toying with while reading. Rest assured, Aosaki Yugo came up with a far superior solution.

7/3/24

Peril at End House (1932) by Agatha Christie

Peril at End House (1932) is one of Agatha Christie's often overlooked novels forever standing in the shadows of her famous, widely celebrated genre classics like Murder on the Orient Express (1934), Death on the Nile (1937) and And Then There Were None (1939) – which holds true for nearly all of her so-called "second tier" mysteries. If another name had graced the covers of such titles as Lord Edgware Dies (1933), Murder is Easy (1939), Towards Zero (1944) and After the Funeral (1953), they would have been hailed as classic whodunits "Worthy of Christie."

I always viewed Peril at End House as the poster child of otherwise excellent mystery novels eclipsed by their author's more famous works. John Dickson Carr's The Problem of the Green Capsule (1939), Carter Dickson's The Reader is Warned (1939), Clayton Rawson's The Footprints on the Ceiling (1939) and Christianna Brand's Suddenly at His Residence (1946) all belong to this category. Peril at End House is admittedly not Christie's best detective novel, but I always liked it and wanted to see if can stand up to a fresh read. This time in English as I previously only read the Dutch translation, Moord onder vuurwerk (Murder During Fireworks).

Hercule Poirot is on the Cornish coast with his chronicler and long-time friend, Captain Arthur Hastings, enjoying both a holiday and a well-deserved retirement, simply content with sitting in the sun – proclaiming "I am not a stage favourite who gives the world a dozen farewells." Hastings warns him "such an emphatic pronouncement will surely tempt the gods." Just moments later, Poirot twists his ankle in the hotel garden and is helped by a woman, Nick Buckley, who owns the nearby End House. A "tumble-down old place" going "to rack and ruin" lacking a family ghost or curse, but she tells them she had "three escapes from sudden death in as many days." After saying goodbye, Poirot becomes very worried as she didn't swat away a wasp when they were talking. Poirot shows Hastings a spent bullet he picked up from the ground and the accompanying bullet hole in the hat she left behind. Someone is obviously trying to kill her!

So they go to End House to return the hat and warn Nick Buckley of the impending danger. There they find the usual, tightly-knit group of potential suspects. Mrs. Frederica "Freddie" Rice is Nick's greatest friend and confident who had a rotten life married to a beast of a man who abandoned her. Nick wishes she divorced him in order to marry their friend and Bond Street art dealer, Jim Lazarus. Commander George Challenger is another friend who wishes to marry Nick Buckley, but she sees no future in such a marriage ("...neither of us got a bean"). The gatehouse lodge is rented to an Australian couple, the Crofts, who Hastings labeled as friendly, pleasant and typical Australians. Poirot suggests they were, perhaps, playing "a part just a little too thoroughly." Charles Vyse is Nick's cousin and solicitor, but disapproves of her mode of life and hopes to reform her one day.

However, Poirot has a hard time convincing Nick her life is actually in danger. Nick finds the whole idea very amusing, "I'm not the beautiful young heiress whose death releases millions," but Poirot eventually convinces her to take it somewhat seriously and call down a friend to stay with her – she asks one of her Yorkshire cousins, Maggie. Unfortunately, the murderer mistakes Maggie for Nick, wearing her red shawl, shoots her during a firework show. So whodunit? And, more importantly, why? The motive really is the crux of the story.

The reason why Peril at End House has a poor reputation is that the murderer is not very well hidden, which is something you come to expect from the Queen of the Whodunit. This is true. I clearly remember from my first reading stumbling to the murder rather effortlessly, because even as a complete neophyte some things were so obvious they're impossible to miss and arouse suspicions. I think this was done on purpose as the real puzzle is not the identity of the murderer, but piecing together the cleverly hidden, fairly clued motive. Poirot himself remarks, "we must find the motive if we are to understand this crime." Peril at End House is a whydunit and not a bad one either. I love plot-oriented tropes like impossible crimes, unbreakable alibis and dying messages, but always dislike it when a detective story tacks on the motive as an after thought. If you want a good, solid plot, you also need pretty good motivation, not only to commit murder, but a reason to rig up a locked room scenario or an apparently air-tight alibi. So appreciated to see Christie applying her plotting skills to the why, for once, rather than the who and how.

That being said, Peril at End House could have worked as a whydunit with a stronger whodunit angle had Poirot (SPOILER/ROT13) sbbyrq rirelbar vapyhqvat Unfgvatf naq gur ernqre vagb oryvrivat gur svany nggrzcg ba Avpx jnf fhpprffshy, orsber gebggvat ure bhg ng gur fénapr sbe gur ovt erirny. N perfgsnyyra Cbvebg, orfgrq bapr ntnva ol n obk bs cbvfbarq pubpbyngrf, jbhyq unir arngyl qrsyngrq gur fhfcvpvba ntnvafg ure.

Peril at End House seems to be one of Christie's shortest novels, certainly read like her shortest novel, which might not have allowed for enough room to do justice to both. So all the attention went into the better idea. Namely the motive. I liked it. I can also see why Peril at End House comes up short for many compared to other Poirot novels as the plots feels slighter and rather obvious, in some ways, than most entries in the series – not to mention it lacks that hook to grab your attention. In that regard, Peril at End House is no Death in the Clouds (1935), The A.B.C. Murders (1936) or Cards on the Table (1936), but still a very well done, soundly plotted mystery novel in its own right. A mystery novel with a great idea at its core and brazenly clued. It's just that the name Agatha Christie demands something more than Peril at End House can deliver. A little unfair as it's still an excellent detective story and had it been written by someone like Christopher Bush (The Case of the Fatal Fireworks), it would have ranked as one of the five best Ludovic Travers novels. But that's the curse of being a so-called "second stringer" in the oeuvre of one of the best, most successful and famous authors the genre has produced in its 183 year history.

Note for the curious: the universally praised A Murder is Announced (1950) is next on the AC reread pile, because everyone keeps defending it and don't remember it being that good. But then again, I'm not a fan of Miss Marple. Even less so back then. So who knows what a fresh read might reveal. However, I might first return to the much neglected (on this blog, anyway) Dorothy L. Sayers.