A week or so ago I reviewed The Story of Classic Crime in 100 Books edited by Martin Edwards who I am now beginning to view with a jaundiced eye as he is responsible for making me, yes making me, read loads of books by authors of the Golden Age. And, believe me, there are plenty of them. The net spreads wide and I am having trouble keeping up.
Here are a few that I have just purchased after reading about them and, as my copy of the aforementioned book is bristling with post-its, this is just the start.
One author he mentioned in his 100 Books was Francis Beeding. Now it seems that Frances Beeding was the pen name for a writing duo, John Leslie Palmer and Hilary Aiden St George Saunders (WHAT a name!) and they also collaborated under two other names which I am not going to bother with else I will tear my hair out. According to Martin E "their regrettably infrequent detective stories included the House of Dr Edwardes (1927) memorably filmed by Alfred Hitchcock". Part of me is quite glad their stories were infrequent as I would be haring off to track them down, but after reading two of their titles, I am rather sorry they did not write more. Contradictory I know.
The first one was Death Walks in Eastrepps (1931). It starts with a respectable businessman Robert Eldridge taking a train from London to Norfolk. He is heading for Eastrepps the home of his married mistress Margaret. As she is seeking a divorce and does not want to lose her child if it was discovered she was committing adultery, it has to be kept very quiet and Eldridge takes every precaution and deceit to cover his tracks. This caution comes back to cause him trouble later on. We discover, however, that Eldridge is not all he appears to be. His real name is James Selby and sixteen years earlier he absconded when his company collapsed leaving innocent investors penniless. It goes without saying that some of them happen to reside in Eastrepps....
On the day that he visits Eastrepps one of the residents is murdered. This is followed by another and more deaths follow in quick succession. Chief Inspector Wilkins is called in from the Yard and an arrest is made. But they have the wrong man and more deaths follow.
I guessed Who Dun It only about one page before the identity was revealed so I cannot claim that I spotted it earlier but it suddenly came to me in a blinding flash, but it was so audacious I was not sure I was right.
A terrific read, well written and pacey and highly recommended.
Well what else could I do after reading this but hunt out more by this author(s) and came up with The Norwich Victims(1935) and it is just as good as the Eastrepps title and I read this through at one sitting. A middle-aged schoolteacher wins the French lottery and looks around for somewhere safe to invest her prize. She decides upon a 'financial adviser' John Throgmorton who sees a golden opportunity to enrich himself. Miss Haslett, the teacher, crosses to Paris and collects her winnings and then she vanishes and is not seen again until her body turns up near Brighton.
Lots of time tabling and detail guaranteed to throw the reader and the investigating Inspector Martin off the scent. There are photographs of the main characters included in the book, a gimmick which supplies a clue to the central mystery which totally passed me by. In fact, I was completely gobsmacked by the solution to this crime which was detailed, audacious and a real shocker.
I loved both these books and have taken note of the other crime novels written by these authors and will see if I can track them down.
I am also in the throes of reading Bodies from the Library, Lost tales of Mystery and Suspense by Agatha Christie and other Masters of the Golden Age. It goes without saying that I now have yet another list of names to seek out..
I am seriously considering renaming this blog Random Murder.......
