The White Priory Murders (1934) by Carter Dickson

I previously ranked a dozen of my favorite seasonal detective stories, "The Naughty List: Top 12 Favorite Christmas Mystery Novels & Short Stories," which I think turned out be nice Christmas arrangement of the classics, lesser-known, recently reprinted titles and some fun short stories – covering a period from 1934 to 2023. John Dickson Carr's short story "Blind Man's Hood" (1937) secured a slot on the list, but one of his novels was considered as well.

The White Priory Murders (1934), as by "Carter Dickson," was republished in 2022 in the British Library Crime Classics series with the descriptive subtitle, "A Mystery for Christmas." A more accurate description would have been "A Winter Mystery" as the Christmas is mentioned only in passing, but technically qualified. So why was it left off the list? I simply needed to reread it first. Practically every detail of the story, plot and characters is blurred out of recognition worsened by the memories of several snowy, no-footprints impossible crime stories (e.g. Nicholas Blake's Thou Shell of Death, 1936) blending together over the years.

A reread was in order and it's something I should have done sooner, because rereading The White Priory Murders was like finding a new H.M. novel I had until then only read about. Memory can play some funny tricks on you.

The White Priory Murders takes place during "the frosty twilight of Christmas week" and begins with James Bennett visiting his uncle, the old man, Sir Henry Merrivale ("you're Kitty's son, hey? The one that married the Yank?"). Bennett is a diplomatic errand boy for his father, a big enough name in Washington, who instructed his son what to expect and how to handle his eccentric – neatly doubling as a delightful snapshot introduction. The White Priory Murders is only H.M.'s second appearance following The Plague Court Murders (1934). Bennett consulted H.M. on a curious incident concerning a Hollywood starlet, Marcia Tait, who walked out in the middle of a contract with her film studio to perform in a London play. A spiteful move intended to make everyone eat their own words as Tait flopped on the London stage, before going to America to be transformed into movie star.

The play in question, The Private Life of Charles II, is an independent production by John Bohun, written by his brother Maurice Bohun and backed by Lord Canifest. Several producers in London offered to back it, but Tait took great pleasure in publicly sneering at them. And, generally, she's "courting hostility." On top of that, Tait's publicist, Emery, and her director, Rainger, have furiously followed her to London hoping to persuade her to return. Bennett became entangled with the group aboard an ocean liner sailing from New York to London, which gave him a front row seat when an attempt is made to poison Tait. Someone in their party had send her a box of poisoned chocolates.

Worryingly, the party is gathering in the run-up to Christmas at the ancestral home of the Bohuns, the White Priory, near Epsom. Other guests include the Bohuns niece, Katherine Bohun, Lord Canifest's daughter, Louise, and one of the best character-actors in England, Jervis Willard – who's to play opposite Tait in the play. Rounding out the party is Bennett. So, naturally, he's a bit worried what might happened. H.M. gives him the telephone numbers of his private wire and Inspector Humphrey Masters in case something happens.

The White Priory has a marble pavilion, called the Queen's Mirror, comprising of only four rooms and standing in the middle of a small artificial lake. Tait wanted to spend the night in the Queen's Mirror and she's found there by John Bohun the next morning with her head smashed in. Just one problem. Tait died long after the snow had stopped falling, but the pavilion is surrounded by half an inch of unmarked snow, sixty feet of it thin ice on every side and not a tree, or shrub, within a hundred feet of it. Only marks in the snow is the track of fresh prints ("of course they were fresh tracks") John Bohun made when he found Tait's body. So an impossible crime and not your average impossible crime as H.M. eventually takes a break from drinking hot punch and trimming to Christmas tree to give it his personal attention ("if it's a new wrinkle in the art of homicide, I want to know all about it").

H.M. gives a mini-version of Dr. Gideon Fell's "The Locked Room Lecture," from The Three Coffins (1935), going over the three known motives/reasons for creating a locked room situation or impossible crime – namely the suicide-fake, ghost-fake and the accident. A fourth motive was added to the list in The Peacock Feather Murders (1937). H.M. delightfully gives a hypothetical scenario for the suicide and accident scenario as the ghost-fake obviously doesn't apply to this murder, however, neither do the suicide or accident motives. You can't commit suicide by beating your skull to mush and you can't accidentally walk over snow without leaving footprints. So how the murderer managed to flee from the pavilion very much becomes the central question of The White Priory Murders. There are, however, enough volunteers among the suspects willing to take a crack at this impossible problem and eagerly share their solutions with H.M. and Masters. What follows is a procession of cleverly thought out false-solutions reminiscent of Christianna Brand's recently reviewed Tour de Force (1955). How beautifully they complement each other with their footprints in the snow, alibis on the beach and a conga line of false-solutions!

I've said before how I consider the no-footprints/miraculous footprints the most difficult, trickiest of all impossible crimes to pull off convincingly and satisfactory. Even trickier is to be original without relying on one of the familiar dodges or a variation on it, which is why Arthur Porges' "No Killer Has Wings" (1961) is beloved among impossible crime aficionados. So always appreciate and admire when a mystery writer can deliver a good one, but to make things extra difficult by parading out false-solutions is only to be applauded. A seven percent solution for every unashamed detective fiction junkie!

However, the solution to both the murder and impossibility is not without a noticeable smudge holding it back from taking a place in the first ranks (SPOILER/ROT13): gur zheqrere qrnyg zhygvcyr oybjf jvgu gur zrqvpny rknzvare abgvat frireny oybjf jrer fgehpx nsgre fur unq qvrq, ohg Pnee nccneragyl vtaberq be qvqa'g ernyvmr gur haubyl, tbel zrff n seramvrq oyhqtrbavat yrnirf oruvaq – rfcrpvnyyl vs lbh fgevxr gur fnzr jbhaq frireny gvzrf. Pnee bireybbxrq, be vtaberq, gur fnzr ceboyrz va Gur Rzcrebe'f Fahss-Obk, ohg urer vg unf sne zber frevbhf pbafrdhraprf gb gur fbyhgvba. Gur cbyvpr naq zrqvpny rknzvare fubhyq unir orra vzzrqvngryl noyr gb gryy Gnvg jnf zheqrerq fbzrjurer ryfr naq zbirq gb gur cnivyvba yngre sebz gur ynpx bs oybbq cbbyvat nebhaq gur urnq naq ab oybbq fcnggrerq jnyyf. That fact is ignored and why the solution to the no-footprints problem is not half as obvious as Carr or H.M. would like you to believe. I think a lot of readers wouldn't consider it on account of (ROT13) xabjvat vg jbhyq or vzcbffvoyr gb zbir n onqyl onggrerq obql gb n qvssrerag ybpngvba naq bofphevat gur snpg gur ivpgvz unq orra onggrerq fbzrjurer ryfr. Probably the reason why it got so distorted in my memories, because remembered (ROT13) Gnvg jnf fgenatyrq vafgrnq bs orngra. Vs fur unq orra fgenatyrq, be uvg whfg bapr, gur gevpx jbhyq unir jbexrq jvgubhg n ceboyrz. Abj vg pbairavragyl vtaberf, jung fubhyq unir orra, n qrnq tvirnjnl. Znlor zl oenva nhgb-pbeerpgrq vg, be fbzrguvat.

This is not to end this review on a sour note. The White Priory Murders is mostly excellent and not far behind Carr's best works from the early to mid 1930s. H.M. is in fine form as he's far more serious, intelligent and slightly baffled than he would be presented in later books coupled with a mini-locked room lecture, false-solutions and one hell of a premise. Only that one small, devilish and all important detail regarding the impossible crime places it a considerable step below other H.M. novels of the period like The Plague Court Murders (1934) and The Red Widow Murders (1935). I really shouldn't complain. The White Priory Murders was so blurred and distorted in my memory rereading it was like uncovering a unread H.M. novel I previous only heard about it. Even if the book in question doesn't show Carr at the top of his game as a plotter, but, even on an off-day, Carr is usually a good deal better than most of his contemporaries. The White Priory Murders is no exception. I just wished Carr had spotted the flaw in his impossible crime setup and fixed it, which would have propelled it to first ranks without any ifs or buts.

A note for the curious: during his mini-locked room lecture, H.M. naturally dismisses the third option, accidental impossibilities, in which the murderer "creates an impossible situation in spite of himself, without wantin' to" before throwing up his hands – asking "what kind of accident is it where a person don't make tracks in the snow?" There is, however, one very simple, elegant solution fitting the accidental impossibilities category that was never considered. The apparent impossibility of Tait's murder not only hinges on the unbroken snow surrounding the pavilion, but also the time of death ("it depends on the time a woman died"). What if she had been under the weather and had a slight fever? That way she could have been murdered before the snow stopped falling and the medical evidence pushing the time of death forwards. I think back then they could have checked the body to see if she had been sick. So a perfectly logical and reasoning explanation can be knocked down as a false-solution.