Not a Ghost to Be Found: "The Name on the Window" (1951) by Edmund Crispin

"Edmund Crispin" was the pseudonym of Bruce Montgomery, a classical musician, composer, conductor, anthologist and mystery writer, who has been called one of the last writers of detective stories the classical, Golden Age traditional and mold – debuting with The Case of the Gilded Fly (1944). A warm homage to Crispin's favorite mystery novelist and principle influence, John Dickson Carr. Crispin's series-detective even claims to be a personal acquaintance of Dr. Gideon Fell ("heaven grant Gideon Fell never becomes privy to my lunacy..."). If you want to get a good idea just how big of a JDC fanboy Crispin really was, I highly recommend tracking down a copy of Swan Song (1947).

Lamentably, Crispin was one of those mystery writers who shined like a brief, sudden burst of bright light that dimmed within a few years to a small flicker. Crispin published eight of his nine detective novels between the mid-1940s and early '50s. The ninth and final Professor Gervase Fen novel, The Glimpses of the Moon (1977), appeared more than a quarter of a century after The Long Divorce (1951). Crispin continued to write short stories over the next ten years and most where gathered in two collections that include the posthumously-published Fen Country (1979). However, the short stories are not to be overlooked as some are classics of the short story form ("deceptively simple, little ingenious gems"). Notably, the riddle-me-this "Who Killed Baker?" (1950), the excellent, surprisingly hardboiled "The Pencil" (1953) and the very late, but amusing, "We Know You're Busy Writing, But We Thought You Wouldn't Mind If We Just Dropped in for a Minute" (1969), but my personal favorite will always be the subject of today's review. A gem of a locked room mystery appropriate for the season!

"The Name on the Window" originally appeared as "A Crime for Christmas" in the December 24, 1951, edition of the London Evening Standard and reprinted in February, 1953, in Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine and collected in Beware of the Trains (1953) under its current title – apparently the story also appeared somewhere as "Writing on the Pane." But have been unable to find where it was published under that title.

The story opens on Boxing Day at the North Oxford home of Gervase Fen, Professor of English Language and Literature, who recouping among the ruins of an exhaustive children's party when he finds an old friend on his doorstep. Detective Inspector Humbleby is stranded, "roads are impassable” and “trains as there are are running hours late," but Fen welcomes the Scotland Yard man with open arms. And the inspector has an intriguing story to tell. Humbleby is investigating a very mysterious murder on the sprawling grounds of the Rydalls estate. The residence of the famous architect, Sir Charles Moberley, who hosted a large house party that honored a now long-lost Christmas tradition of telling ghost stories. Rydalls has a ghost of its own.

An 18th century pavilion stands on the grounds, about a quarter of a mile away from the house, where once upon a time someone, or other, had been murdered, but "the haunting part of it is just silly gossip for the benefit of visitors." One of the guests, Sir Lucas Welsh, demanded to investigate the ghost and, on Christmas Eve, arranged a lonely vigil. But never came back out alive. Sir Lucas was found lying near the window with an old stiletto sticking out of his back, but he hadn't died immediately and used his last strength to write his murderer's name in the grime of the window-pane ("Otto"). Otto Mörike is a young German, a Luftwaffe pilot during the war and presently studies architecture, who has a double motive. Sir Lucas opposed an engagement with his daughter, Jane Welsh, but with him out the way, Otto can both marry Jane and enjoy her inheritance. Just one problem. How could Sir Lucas have been stabbed inside, what amounts to, a locked room?

The small, circular pavilion has a longish, narrow hall as an entrance ("if you saw it from the air it'd look like a key-hole"), but all the windows were nailed shut, "chimney too narrow to admit a baby" and only the victim's footprints in the otherwise undisturbed, years-old dust on the hall floor – unquestionably made by Sir Lucas ("Otto's feet are much too large"). Humbleby asks Fen, "so ghosts apart, what is the explanation?" Fen has one answer, "you've got locked rooms on the brain" and recalls how "Gideon Fell once gave a very brilliant lecture on The Locked-Room Problem," but "there was one category he didn't include." Fen's category to explain how the murderer got into and out of the pavilion is worthy to be compared with the best from Carr. Even better, Crispin brilliantly tied the locked room-trick to the dying message, which appeared to be so crystal clear at a first glance. I particularly liked (ROT13) ubj gur oyvaxva' phffrqarff bs guvatf va trareny sbeprq gur zheqrere'f unaqf gb ghea n jebat qlvat zrffntr vagb n yrtvgvzngr pyhr. Only, very tiny flaw in this gem is that the motive feels like it was tacked on at the end, but that's a problem often found in short detective stories.

So, other than that small niggle, "The Name on the Window" is one of the best short impossible crime stories and shows Crispin was not only a maestro of classical music.

The Last Harvest

"Oh, it's so awful. All those dreadful newspaper headlines! They seem to be positively baying after him, like bloodhounds."

- Freda Ducrow (Leo Bruce's Cold Blood, 1952)

Bruce Montgomery was a composer and conductor who scored a number of British comedies and films, such as the Carry On-series and The Brides of Fu Manchu (1966), but today he is mostly remembered as "Edmund Crispin" – author of nine mystery novels and numerous short stories.

Crispin was among the last wave of traditional, puzzle-oriented mystery writers to emerge from the Golden Era of the genre, which included such luminaries as Christianna Brand and Kelley Roos. Some have even referred to Crispin's series-characters as the Last Golden Age Detective.

The name of this character is Gervase Fen, Professor of English Language and Literature, who made his primary appearance in The Case of the Gilded Fly (1944), which was inspired by the works of his favorite mystery writer – none other than the great John Dickson Carr.

Crispin solidified Fen as genuine prodigy of the Golden Age in such classic and wonderful mystery novels as the farcical The Moving Toyshop (1946) and Swan Song (1947), which is a very Carrian locked room conundrum. The only thing I can bring against them is that I have read practically the entire series before this blog came into existence.

I would've loved to have been able to jotted down and dumped my initial, perhaps overly enthusiastic impressions of this series on here, but the only book that was left unread on my shelves was a posthumous collection of short stories. Most of them short-shorts of no more than 4 or 5 pages.

Fen Country: Twenty-Six Stories (1979) was published a year after Crispin passed away and the stories were harvested from the pages of the London Evening Standard, Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine and Winter's Crime – where they originally appeared between the years 1953 and 1969. They're a jumble of series-and standalone stories with a couple of solo-cases for Inspector Humbleby.

So, let's take 'em down from the top!

"Who Killed Baker?" was written in collaboration with fellow composer Geoffrey Bush, who came up with the plot-idea, and stands as one of Crispin's most well-known and successful short stories – partially due to it having been used as padding for several anthologies. It's basically a riddle in story form and its punch line is designed to fool avid mystery readers, which is probably why I have seen it referred to as "an anti-detective story." But I enjoyed it. 

"Death and Aunt Fancy" is one of the better shorts from this collection, in which Fen quite easily solves the smothering-death of an aunt of one of his pupils based on a cryptic remark, "I don’t know why she's doing this," and a hearing aid-device. The main problem with these short-shorts is clueing, but this is not one of them! 

In "The Hunchback Cat," Fen tells a story about the Coping family and their long-standing tradition of parricide. There are only two Copings left when Fen meets them and one of them is soon found inside locked room of a medieval castle tower, but it's not an impossible crime and the final explanation is a let down. The clue of the cat was quite interesting, though. 

"The Lion's Tooth" is what an elderly nun mutters after getting whacked over the head and the daughter of wealthy businessman, Mary, is snatched from the convent. The title functions as a sort of "dying message," but Fen manages to work out its meaning and rescues the girl.

I would qualify "Gladstone's Candlestick" as a locked room mystery and has Fen proving one of his students innocent of theft of a valuable candlestick without having to "postulate any nonsense about duplicate keys," but in order to do so there’s a bit of cheating on the author's side – which is a pity.

"The Man Who Lost His Head" finds Fen involved in the theft of a drawing by Leonardo da Vinci from the study of Sir Gerald McComas and his worst fear is that the drawing is still within the family. I found this to be a rather forgettable story.

"The Two Sisters" retraces some plot-points from "Death and Aunt Fancy," but it's not a rewrite and perfectly stands by itself. A man by the name of Wyndham is an insomniac and recovering from a nervous breakdown, which is why he accepted an offer from aunt to stay at her cottage – miles away from the busy, civilized world. During one of his sleepless nights, Wyndham witnesses something disturbing outside and Fen knows exactly what kind of game is being played. A good and fun story that was reminiscent of the suspense stories by Anthony Gilbert.

"Outrage in Stepney" is a Cold War-type story and only of interest for its linguistic clue involving the German language, President Eisenhower's name ("Eisssenhoer") and some hinting references to the situation in post-World War II England ("just don't start heiling Mosley..."). Why do Cold War stories-and novels so seldom measure up to World War II mysteries in the plotting department?

However, "A Country to Sell" is a story of international intrigue from the mid-1950s, which does live up to its World War II counterparts and even chugs in a locked room mystery for good measure. Christopher Bradbury is a Washington-agent and Oxford graduate who consult Gervase Fen on a delicate, baffling problem which has had far-reaching and deadly consequences. A couple of "months of work collapsed in ruins" after "communicated instructions by phone" leaked out, which were given over a secured line that was "safe from tapping" and received in a room with the door and window "closed and fastened." You can argue that the technical aspect of the solution makes the story dated, but it was a nice surprise following in the footsteps of the previous story.

"A Case in Camera" is the first solo-appearance for Detective-Inspector Humbleby and helps his "wife's sister's husband," Superintendent Pollitt of Munsingham City CID, closing a case of murder during a breaking-and entering of a home. The photographic alibi is interesting in how it relates to the location and time-of-death of the victim, but I couldn't help thinking it was wasted on a written story – because it would've been a nifty trick for TV.

"Blood Sport" is another solo case for Detective-Inspector Humbleby and it's a forensic story touching upon a ballistic-type of problem when the police is confronted with a suspiciously barrel in a shooting death. Yeah, I barely remember this story. So, I probably wasn't too impressed by it.

"The Pencil" is a standout story in the literal sense of the word. It's a hardboiled story treading on the heels of professional killer assigned to infiltrate and neutralize the leader of rival gang, which has to be done by posing as "poisoned bait" – and not everything works out in the end as it was planned. I did not expect this type of hardboiled story from Crispin, but when they're as good as this one I can almost understand why some readers prefer the rough and tumble to the puzzle-oriented stories. Almost!

"Windhover Cottage" is a short-short story featuring Detective-Sergeant Robartes of Scotland Yard, who demolishes an alibi by stumbling to a stock-in-trade mistake amateur murderers often make when employing the use of an automobile – which made for a decent, but not outstanding, story.

I can barely remember anything about "The House by the River," except that neither Fen nor Humbleby were present. The same goes for "After Evensong" except that the murderer was caught on an inconsistency in a statement to the police, which is never a good sign for a detective story. Luckily, quality picks up again with the next couple of stories!

"Death Behind Bars" is proper short story-length and consists of a letter written by an Assistant Commissioner about "what thriller-writers describe as an impossible murder or a locked room mystery," which took place inside a prison cell and the only suspect with a motive lacked the opportunity to administer the poison. The poisoning method in combination with the background of the character, motive and identity of the murderer makes for a cleverly plotted story. I really enjoyed this one for obvious reasons!

As you'll probably deduce from the long-title, "We Know You're Busy Writing, But We Thought You Wouldn't Mind If We Just Dropped In For A Minute" is a humorous story about a crime writer whose patience is slowly eroded by constant interruptions. Crispin was as much as a satirist of detective stories as Leo Bruce, but this is the first story in this collection that really showcased that aspect of his full-length mysteries. A fun and enjoyable story!  

"Cash and Delivery" was a previously unpublished story and another one that proved to be too short and unremarkable to have anchored itself in my short-term memory, which prevents me from saying anything sensible about.

"A Shot in the Dark" reunites Fen and Humbleby as the later tells of a shooting-case in a place called Cassibury Bardwell, which "too big to be village and too small to be a town," and has Crispin's take on Agatha Christie's eternal triangle – and whether this one has a happy ending is debatable.

"The Mischief Done" is one of a handful stories in this collection that's longer than 4 or 5 pages and revolves around 100,000 pounds diamond, called Reine des Odalisques, which snatched from under Humbleby's nose. You can probably put it down to the length of most of the stories here, but the plot didn't appear to justify the "length" of this rather average story.

"Merry-Go-Round" is a fun, anecdotal story told by Humbleby to Fen about Detective-Inspector Snodgrass, the Yards "expert on literary forgeries," but "far from being an amiable character" – who offended a newspaper baron and book-collector with enough money and his own printing press to take the piss out of the forgery expert. A good combination of the author's cleverness and sense of humor!

"Occupational Risk" has Gervase Fen suggesting a psychological test to fret out the person who left a body underneath a coffin in a freshly dug grave.

"Dog in the Night-Time" has another one of Fen's pupils asking the professor for help and Anne Cargill's problem pertains to yet another stolen diamond, which her late-father purchased and was probably pinched by the estate-executor or her uncle. Fen uses a Sherlockian principle to sniff out a clue and the use of dust in this story makes up for its unfair use in the candlestick story earlier in this collection.

Words of caution from the Crime-Composer

Detective-Inspector Humbleby observes in "Man Overboard" how "writers of fiction get very heated and indignant about blackmail," but the "death of a known blackmailer is a great event" for the police, because a number of unsolved cases can be tidied up "by a quick run through the deceased's papers" – sometimes even murder cases. Humbleby tells a pretty good and strong story of a nearly undiscovered, unsolved murder to illustrate his claim, but it also drove home the point of fiction writers that the only good blackmailer is a dead one. Either way, it's a good story.

"The Undraped Torse" has Gervase Fen solving the problem of a man who has problem with his face being photographed, but broke an expensive camera when a picture was being taken of his lower body. A pretty meh-story.

"Wolf!" is about the shooting of a rich, practical joker while he was on the phone with his son and there are only two suspects, both of his sons, but they are both in possession of a cast-iron alibi – which revolves around old-fashioned kind of telephone. But so does the solution. By the way, I'm sure I have read an extremely similar short story from another writer, but I can't remember where or by whom. Any help?

Well, that's all of them and I'll finish this overlong review here by saying Fen Country is the usual mixed bag of tricks, which is nearly always the case with short stories. But the good ones made it worth the journey and I'll guess this is as good an excuse as any to re-read some of the full-length Gervase Fen mysteries.