Before today’s read, I had already read two books by this author: The Case of the Canterfell Codicil (2020) and The Case of the Ghost of Christmas Morning (2021) and this review is for the third book in the Anty Boisjoly mystery series. The premise (see below) puts me in mind of Dorothy L. Sayers’ The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club (1928), with that need to find out who died first, so a will can be settled. However, Fitzsimmons does his own thing with this particular trope. Moreover, I am not surprised that there is a parallel between the two writers, as according to the back of the book this series is intended ‘to fill the gap that overlaps between Agatha Christie and P. G. Wodehouse, and where Jerome K. Jerome meets Dorothy L. Sayers.’
Furthermore, tontine schemes (wills, insurance plans, gambling syndicates) were a trope many a vintage crime writer employed, including The Sweepstake Murders (1931) by J. J. Connington, Death Points a Finger (1933) by Will Levinrew, Dead March for Penelope Blow (1951) by George Bellairs, 4.50 from Paddington by Agatha Christie and ‘The Inner Circle’ and ‘The Gettysburg Bugle’ by Ellery Queen.
Synopsis
‘The Tale of the Tenpenny Tontine is another mystifying, manor house stumper for Wodehousian bon-vivant and problem-solver Anty Boisjoly, when his clubmate asks him to determine who died first after a duel is fought in a locked room. The untold riches of the Tenpenny Tontine are in the balance, but the stakes only get higher when Anty determines that, duel or not, this was a case of murder.’
Overall Thoughts
The story begins at Anty Boisjoly’s gentleman’s club, The Juniper, and his equanimity is amusingly disturbed, when he is talking to his friend Lager Tenpenny. The humour in this scene is heightened by the restrictive etiquette of the club:
‘“My condolences.”
Weak tea, as these sentiments invariably are, but what else is there to say when a fellow clubman announces a death in the family? […]
“Did he go suddenly?”
Having exhausted the humanitarian angle, I pursued the only avenue remaining between gentlemen and made small-talk of tragedy.
“Oh, I suppose, as these things go […] Looks as though the bullet penetrated his heart, so I expect he had little time for reflection.”’
Given how calmly Lager is talking, this takes Anty by surprise…
‘“Bullet?”
I exclaimed in very nearly an outside voice and Carnaby, London’s finest club steward, raised an eyebrow that was difficult to misinterpret. The Juniper is a topping club with a notoriously hidebound sense of decorum, and it’s strongly encouraged that emotional outbursts, if entirely unavoidable, be burst outside.’
The absurdity of the situation grows when Anty realises that Lager has not gone to the police (apparently not realising duelling was a crime) and there is no sense of urgency on Lager’s part, as he is only mentioning all this four and a half hours after the deaths occurred. When Anty does arrive at the crime scene, he is the only one who realises that they are looking at a murder, and not from duelling… The coroner lacks any professional experience in crime detection or medicine, and he is always keen to cause the least bother (as it means less work for himself). So, he records cause of death as ‘“single gunshot wound, emanating from rank stupidity.”’
Fitzsimmons continues to be good at creating amusing yet insightful character pen portraits, such as when he described Lager as being ‘designed more along utilitarian lines, like a duffel bag. He has a way of occupying his ground – his leather odeon armchair, to take an example to hand in the moment – as though he’s been briefly abandoned by someone looking for a porter.’ Such a description is not a basic catalogue of physical features and I like how the reader has to infer the comments being made about Lager as a person. I have become increasingly less keen on writing which explicitly tells you exactly what a character was like and therefore what you should think of them. Fitzsimmons avoids this pitfall.
In stories such as The Sign of Four (1890) and ‘The Boscombe Valley Mystery’ (1891) Sherlock Holmes can be rude or dismissive of police officers such as Inspector Lestrade and this is mirrored in the Boisjoly series, as Anty does not take Inspector Ivor Wittersham’s dislike of him seriously. He just acts as though this antipathy towards himself is not real:
“The inspector is a strong believer in the creative dialectic […] He gives out as though he resents the intrusion and that he’d have me arrested on the slightest pretext, but it’s mainly for form’s sake.”
Another character Anty does not take seriously is Vickie Tenpenny’s stockbroker swain Kimberley Brickstock, with whom he has this conversation:
“Call me Burly,” he said.
“Must I?”
“Everybody does.”
“Then you must be firm, Brickstock, Stand up for yourself and your good name.”
And after that Anty makes a point of getting Brickstock’s nickname wrong. I must also add at this point that a key part of the humour in this book comes from Lager’s family solicitor. Not only is he inept, but he comes from a line of inept solicitors, who have been given less and less work to handle, as they kept bungling things up.
One thing I noticed in this novel was that there was reduced page time for Inspector Wittersham. Arguably this is understandable as initially there is not a clear murder case for the police to investigate. Nevertheless, it does change the overall feel of the mystery, with not having Wittersham around as much. In addition, I would also say there is less of an overt focus on the “how” of the crimes, compared to the previous first two books. Instead, Anty spends more time looking at the victims’ pasts and the tontine will, which he must help the family find.
I have to admit that I was very distracted when reading this book, so I had no chance of solving this type of mystery, which is quite convoluted. If my concentration had been better, I might have got more of a handle on the solution, which hangs together well when Anty explains it. Being in the “genius detective” mould he does keep his cards up his sleeves a bit and there is a photograph clue, which is not a personal favourite of mine, as it puts the reader at a disadvantage. However, reflecting upon the novel as a whole I think the author was clever to create red herrings based on how characters are described. He also arguably trips up readers who have read the previous two books in series, by subverting some of the possible expectations they might have for the third mystery based on the first two. I have also been impressed with how different all the mysteries have been so far and I don’t feel Fitzsimmons’ formula or pattern is predictable. You might recognise some common tropes between the cases, but the outcomes are very different.
Rating: 4/5