Appleby and the Ospreys (1986) by Michael Innes

I recently returned to the detective novels of "Michael Innes," a nom-de-plume of Oxford don J.I.M. Stewart, by plucking Appleby's Other Story (1974) from my bookshelves and mentioned in my review that he penned the last published mystery novel by a big name from the genre's Golden Age – namely Appleby and the Ospreys (1986). A swansong that came fifty years after Death at the President's Lodging (1936) and has two years on Gladys Mitchell's posthumously published The Crozier Pharaohs (1984).

So this fairly minor work not only retired a well-known detective-character, Sir John Appleby of Scotland Yard, but it closed the book on an entire era of the genre!

Appleby and the Ospreys was published in the year Innes turned eighty and laid down his pen for good, passing away eight years later in 1994, but he had lived a long life that covered one of the most turbulent centuries in human history and you can find some reflections in this book – like an attempt to link the past with the present. There are references to Edgar Allan Poe's "The Purloined Letter," C. Auguste Dupin and Mycroft Holmes, but the "properly developed" constabulary is armed with "wireless telephones, electric typewriters, cameras" and "the computers that have become so indispensable."

Despite these present-day intrusions, Appleby and the Ospreys has a plot deeply rooted in the genre's past and reads like a grandfatherly reminiscence ("I was a much better policeman... than I am the country gentleman"). But with more lucidity than Agatha Christie's doddering Postern of Fate (1973).

The book opens with the retired Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, Sir John Appleby, lunching with his wife at the ancestral seat of the Ospreys, Clusters, where they attempt to consult him on a local problem pertaining a colony of bats – who made the church their roost and frighten the village children in the choir. Bats in the belfry!

Ten days later, Detective-Inspector Ringwood telephones Appleby on behalf of Lady Osprey to inform him that her husband, Lord Osprey, had been "stabbed in the throat" in the library of Clusters ("the venue must be said to be a little lacking in originality"). Lady Ospreys wants Appleby to consult with Ringwood on the matter and the retired Commissioner reluctantly agrees.

The key to the case lies in a set of very specific questions. What happened to the murder weapon? Where did Lord Osprey his elusive Osprey Collection of coins? Who was the lurking person spotted outside the manor house on the day preceding the murder? A murder mystery with all the trappings of a traditional country house mystery from a bygone era, but, as said before, there are occasional reminders that the book was written in the 1980s. One of these reminders is a rape accusation leveled against the victim's son, Adrian Osprey, who got mixed up with an "obstinately uncompliant" village girl and this is a rare crime to find in a traditionally-styled mystery novel of the old school. The only other examples I can think of are Robert van Gulik's The Chinese Bell Murders (1958), Soji Shimada's Senseijutsu satsunjinjinken (The Tokyo Zodiac Murders, 1981) and John Bakkenhoven's Moord op de Keizersgracht (Murder on the Emperor's Channel, 2003).

However, my impression is that Innes was rather lost with these modern components and they either remained unused or were brushed aside. I fear many readers today will take exception to the way this plot-thread was disposed of without a second look.

Anyway, the plot logically sticks together and can be considered fairly clued, but the problem is that the whole scheme has the transparency of a plate of glass and everyone should be able to arrive at the same conclusions as Appleby and Ringwood – who reached it independently of one another. Nonetheless, the plot had some nice touches. Such as where Lord Osprey had hidden his coin collection, obvious as it may have been, or the fitting motive to murder a collector. Not to mention the amusingly false solution proffered by the butler that turned the murder into an unfortunate accident or how the bats were used as the Hand of God in the final chapter, but this is all I can say about the story without giving away anything really vital. You have to find it out for yourself.

Appleby and the Ospreys is a short, easy to solve detective novel and had it not been for the fact that it was the last in an illustrious line that stretched all the way back to the beginning of the 20th century, it would have been a unremarkable country house mystery. Appleby and the Ospreys was the last of its kind. And with the reminiscent story-telling, it was a bit of a melancholic read. As if you're listening to your grandfather telling a story from his past for the umpteenth time, but you pretend to hear it for the first time, because it's probably the last time you'll hear him tell it.

I want to continue chipping away at my pile of Appleby novels and the next one might be Appleby and Honeybath (1983), which is a crossover with Innes' secondary series-detective, Charles Honeybath, who appeared in The Mysterious Commission (1974) and Honeybath's Haven (1977). Apparently, it also happens to be a locked room mystery!

Appleby's Other Story (1974) by Michael Innes

J.I.M. Stewart was an Oxford don and a professor of English literature who, under the name of "Michael Innes," wrote close to fifty mystery novels and a passel of short stories from 1936 to 1986, which gave Appleby and the Ospreys (1986) the honor of being the last detective story to be published by a big name from the genre's Golden Age – published two full years after Gladys Mitchell's last book (The Crozier Pharaohs, 1984). So he outlived all of his contemporaries and was among the first to be brought back in print during the early 2000s.

Amazingly, I have only read a handful of mostly his earlier mysteries, such as Death at the President's Lodging (1936), Hamlet, Revenge! (1937) and Lament for a Maker (1938), while having a whole bunch of them on my shelves. So I decided to finally return to this series and randomly picked a title. You can say I hit the bulls-eye with my pick.

Appleby's Other Story (1974) is a late entry in the series, however, the story is excellent with a well put together plot and one hell of an alibi-trick!

This story begins when Sir John Appleby, retired Chief Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, accompanies Colonel Pride, Chief Constable, to the lofty abode of Maurice Typherton. Elvedon Court lies "confidently aloof" behind a spreading lawn with two stories superimposed upon "a heavily rusticated ground floor" and the basement level had been dug deep into the ground – giving the effect of "the Perfect Cube." Two years ago, "a number of not-all-that important pictures" disappeared from the place and Typherton wanted to consult Appleby, who's "the country's acknowledged authority on art robberies," but, when they arrive at Elvedon Court, there are police cars parked outside. Maurice Typherton was shot dead following a house party.

Initially, Appleby had no inclination to get involved, but then he recognizes one of the house guests, Egon Raffaello, who's an art-dealer of ill-repute and the conversation he has with this old acquaintance convinces to get involved. A tête-à-tête interrupted by the Prodigal son, Mark Typherton, who returned home in secrecy. And now practically inherits the entire estate. Appleby begins to wander the hallways of Elvedon Courts and interviews all of the suspects.

So the story largely consists of a series of conversations and this is somewhat reminiscent of Ngiao Marsh, but this didn't result in, what is known as, "Dragging the Marsh." More importantly, Innes actually managed to achieve a very unusual effect through these wanderings and conversations.

Nick Fuller correctly observed in his review that the story has "a sense of time-warp." During the interviews, Appleby uncovers that Elvedon Court is a homely, cozier incarnation of Sodom and Gomorra with a lot bed-hopping. There's a reference to loud pop-music coming from "a domestic juke-box" during the house party and one of the characters acknowledge the story place "in the nineteen-seventies," but this makes for a weird contrast with the classical, country-house setting and ingenious plot – giving you the idea a cast of modern-day characters were transported to a 1930s country house mystery. And the alibi-trick is everything you'd expect from a great thirties detective novel.

The alibi-trick can be qualified as a quasi-impossible crime and could have been dreamed up by John Dickson Carr or Paul Halter. A particular technique, or misdirection, was used here that could have easily been used for a locked room mystery. You could argue it came close enough here to label it as one, but promised in my previous post that this would be a non-impossible crime review. But, as you can see, I can't seem to escape from those

I think this one was close enough that some would probably label it as one, but promised in my previous review that this would be a non-impossible crime review and this was part of the reason why I returned to Innes. But, as you can see, I can't seem to escape from them.

Well, this is all that can really be said about the book. Appleby's Other Story is a relatively short, conversational-style mystery novel, but has a pleasantly unusual, slightly surreal atmosphere with a plot worthy of the best from the past. A necessary reminder that Innes was better than I remember him and will try to return to him sooner rather than later. Probably with Appleby and the Ospreys.