After the unsettling experience of reading Patricia Highsmith’s The Animal-Lover’s Book of Beastly Murder (1975), I decided to start my Christmas mystery reading early. I went with the title that my book group is discussing next month.
Elizabeth Anthony was the penname for Frances Courlander (1906-1996). She only wrote one other crime novel, Made for Murder (1950) and one short story for Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, ‘Seventh Murder of Henry’s Father’, which was published in 1957. In his introduction to the British Library reprint, Martin Edwards, mentions that a family friend told him that Elizabeth ‘was a dog lover who patented a dog mat which earned her royalties before her daughter passed the rights to the RSPCA.’ Elizabeth also ran an antique shop and bought houses to sell on. It was also interesting to learn that her sister was the crime fiction writer, Shelley Smith, who I have reviewed a few times on my blog.
Synopsis
‘She could imagine the headlines all too well… DEATH ON POSSETT ISLAND Well-known Playwright Found Dead on Christmas Tree. Dimpson McCabe – Dimpsie – has invited all of his closest friends of the theatre world to join him for Christmas at his castle on a private island some hours’ drive from Edinburgh. The festivities have barely had a chance to begin when poor Dimpsie is found draped atop the Christmas tree, electrocuted by the lights with which it is festooned. The Sherriff’s Court yields a verdict of Accidental Death, but in the swirling snow suspicion is dancing among the flakes. Through Dimpsie’s cadre of directors, producers, actors and agents runs a hot streak of hidden grievances and theatrical scheming, and as the group return to London the dogged Inspector Smith begins to circle, seeking to find the leading man or prima donna responsible for this ghoulish crime.’
Overall Thoughts
The beginning of this story ticks a lot of things on the Christmas mystery checklist. It has snow, minor weather-based peril (I would not want to drive over an ice-covered loch), remote country home and a social gathering with many a grudge nestled in the bosoms of the guests invited and the staff on hand working. Yet Elizabeth Anthony still manages to create an original opening with the location of her corpse. I don’t think I have ever read a Christmas mystery in which the victim is found looming in a large, decorated tree:
‘From between the branches Dimpson McCabe’s face peered whitely at them, his eyes stared owlishly through thick spectacles; one hand, pushed through the tinsel draperies, pointed a long finger at them.’
I also liked the start of the novel as the gothic and eerie setting juxtaposes interestingly with the more prosaic and practical realities:
‘It was built of grey stone, which looked black in the evening light, and its turrets and crenelated battlements were witchlike, reminding Katherine of an illustration to an old book of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Although every window was brilliantly lit, there was something cold and forbidding about the exterior, and as they approached the entrance she became aware of a peculiar throbbing which seemed to reverberate through the air.
“That’s the generator, miss,” Benso explained. “We’ve got our own electric plant now.”
The discovery of the body is made by journalist Katherine Mickey and her friend Dr Harley. I initially thought that the story would focus on Katherine and see events from her point of view, but this is not the case, as the novel shifts attention between varying witnesses, suspects and future victims (if they did but know it). We are not introduced to the other characters en masse. Instead, we have small moments with them in which we get a few key ideas or reasons to be suspicious of them: a fragment of a letter, a cushion angrily thrown when no one is looking, someone who claims to know nothing, but then mentions things that Katherine has not told them. The initial police interviewing is minimal and summed up, taking place off the page. The same goes for the inquest. By page 60 the guests are returning home and it is clear that the plot is taking a different direction and that the nature of the investigation will be changing.
On the slenderest of “feelings”, Katherine’s editor commands her to go out and find Dimpson’s killer, expenses paid. I was not wholly convinced by this and despite an early find, a marriage certificate concealed in a hidden panel in a desk, Katherine’s quest to discover the truth is a fairly slow activity. So slow in fact and so half-hearted in some respects that the policeman in charge of investigating Dimpson’s death and the others that follow, easily arrives at the truth ahead of her and by himself. You can’t say Katherine is not helped out when it comes to amateur sleuthing as for example, she is randomly allowed full access to a crime scene. The police officer does not know her but is quite happy to show her private and confidential information. What surprised me though is that Katherine’s editor does not get annoyed with her when no articles are forthcoming and if anything his assignment to her becomes vaguer and vaguer. This depiction of a newspaper editor contrasts with those that I have seen in other works of fiction in books and on the screen. Going into this novel you expect Katherine to unify events and to act in the manner of an amateur sleuth. But this is not really a role she truly fits, and I would say she almost becomes a peripheral character. The reader knows much more than she does, which is probably exacerbated by the fact she rarely gets round to interviewing people before they are killed, leave or she simply forgets them. For this to happen once is one thing, but when it gets to three occasions it starts to become frustrating. I would go as far to say that Katherine is a pointless character.
The drama and spectacle of the corpse in the Christmas tree is not sustained nor particularly built upon. The pace is arguably slowed down because the narrative lacks focus or direction. The order of events in the chapters is somewhat elastically arranged, moving backwards and forwards with little to no reference points. The characterisation does not ameliorate the limitations of the plot, as I feel like we are held at arm’s length from the characters Consequently, some character behaviour comes across as odd, such as when one character gets so annoyed with commonsense that she literally chucks a doll she owns on to the fire and pushes it hard into the grate. I think one of the reasons why we do not get close to the characters is because of the nature of the solution. The answer to the killings in this book is not difficult to fathom as the narrative signals it loudly before you reach the end. The ending is rushed, and the obvious solution is disappointing. I am intrigued as to how the inspector solved the case, as a lot of his solution is reliant on supposition and theory.
Rating: 3.25/5
Source: Review Copy (British Library)
Spoiler Warning – Do Not Read the Text Below Unless You Have Read the Book
The solution shares a few qualities from the work of Agatha Christie. There is poison in fishpaste sandwiches (echoing Sad Cypress (1940)) and the third and final killing is similar to one of the deaths in Lord Edgware Dies (1933). The motivation for murder in Elizabeth Anthony’s Dramatic Murder is bigamy, which the killer wishes not to be discovered. I latched on to this quite easily, once the murderer began to remind me of Lady Audley in Mary Elizabeth Braddon’s Lady Audley’s Secret (1862).