A Silver Spade/The Kindest Use a Knife, by Louisa Revell

 

9798886011784

Stark House Press, 2026

originally published 1950/1953

307 pp

paperback (my copy from the publisher, with my many thanks!)

Well, I actually finished reading this book some time ago, but our house has been in the hands of painters for like two weeks now so a lot of my stuff (not to mention my office) has  not been accessible for a while.  Between the construction we did and now the painting, I'm ready to be done with all of this.  Arrghh! 

  A new January 2026 release from Stark House, this two-in-one volume brings together books three and four in Louisa Revell’s short series featuring the formidable Miss Julia Tyler. A Silver Spade (1950) and The Kindest Use a Knife (1953) center on this woman in her late sixties who proves that age has only sharpened her instincts. A devoted reader of crime fiction, Miss Tyler is curious, perceptive, and beyond capable of holding her own when she inevitably comes to find herself smack in the middle of real-life murders.  In his introduction, Curtis Evans points out that, much like Murder, She Wrote’s Jessica Fletcher, Julia can’t seem to go anywhere without a murder tagging along right behind her. Having now read all four of these novels, I’d say that his assessment is pretty much dead on.  For readers new to the series, much of the fun lies in the fact that Miss Julia devours mystery novels, and her fondness for fictional detectives has a way of bleeding into her real-life curiosity, often leading her into situations that carry the unmistakable scent of mystery.

Fresh home from her Louisville adventures in No Pockets in Shrouds, sexagenarian Julia is busy getting the house in order for the family’s newest arrival: her great-niece Anne’s baby. Amid all the domestic bustle, she receives an unexpected visit from Mrs. Turner, who is in desperate need of a last-minute replacement for a Latin instructor at a summer camp for gifted students in Maine. Qualified Latin teachers are apparently hard to come by, and Julia is—according to Mrs. Turner—her “one and only prospect.” Julia initially refuses; she’s far too busy. But just as Mrs. Turner is heading out the door, she casually mentions the threatening letters that drove the previous Latin teacher away. For Miss Julia, that detail seals her fate, and it isn’t long before she’s heading for Camp Pirate Island, drawn by the promise of a mystery she can’t resist.  But what starts as a few anonymous letters quickly escalates, beginning with a bullet that whizzes past her on the beach and soon erupting into not just one, but multiple murders—and a summer camp teeming with suspects. 

I was also excited by the anonymous letters, thinking the book might turn out to be another entry in the poison-pen novel category, but like Miss Julia I got way more than I'd bargained for.  

from ebay (you really have to love that picture!)

Reading A Silver Spade was a genuine pleasure—easily more compelling than the two books that came before it. The mystery is strong, but what really lingers is the edgy, slightly discordant undercurrent that gives the novel its sharp bite, as multiple homicides unfold in a place that feels almost fundamentally at odds with even the possibility of such violence.  This is a summer camp where, after lessons end, the girls are meant to be singing songs, putting on skits, swimming in the lake and gathering around campfires—simple, cheerful rituals that in some cases, take on a chilling quality once death enters the picture. And, honestly, this story stirred up a bit of nostalgia for me—not that I ever studied Latin at a summer camp (I mean, really?) — but it did take me back to those fun days of Girl Scout camps I attended when I was much younger.    Let's just say I should have guessed the who but I never did, and that's definitely a win. 

first edition hardcover, from ebay

In The Kindest Use a Knife, Miss Julia is back home in Rossville, Virginia. As she notes, 

"I've been away from home a good bit since I retired. Annapolis and Louisville and Camp Pirate Island, Maine, were all nice, and the excitement in all those places had certainly kept me from sitting down and feeling superannuated and sorry for myself, but Rossville is home and the garden spot of the world." 

Garden spot it may be (to Miss Julia anyway) but it's certainly not immune from the problems of the rest of the world, including murder.  Jack Morris, wheelchair-bound son of Evelyn Morris and a father who had left years earlier, has taken an overdose of pills.  Evidently, thinking it was likely that Jack would die (he didn't), Mr. G.R. Riley, senior warden of St. Ives Church (with a "duty to see to the business affairs of the parish") had consulted an architect regarding the restoration of the Old Rectory, where the Morris family have lived for some time.  Years earlier, when Evelyn's husband Richard had taken off as part of an insurance scam, he had left her and her two children in a sorry financial state, and they had been staying in the Old Rectory rent free as a kindness.  Now Riley wants to move Evelyn's family out and make the place the parish house.  But when Evelyn unexpectedly appears at the Guild Meeting—where members are voting on Riley’s plans—the votes swing in her favor, despite a number of locals who quietly hoped she’d be forced out. So when Miss Julia later discovers Evelyn with a knife in her back, it’s no surprise that suspicion falls on a few citizens of this "garden spot" … including, briefly, Julia herself.  But Evelyn won't be the only one to die ...

This novel is also very good, though I have to admit I enjoyed A Silver Spade more. It wanders a bit at times, but the central mystery is solid, capped by a holy-crap! denouement I genuinely didn’t see coming, and the small-town dynamic is really vibing here.   And while the story itself is undeniably hard to put down (and pardon the pun, please), The Kindest Use a Knife cuts deeper than I expected, exposing some discomfiting biases toward disabled people. I won’t go into specifics, but these moments serve as stark reminders of the period in which the book was written, and they gave me pause in ways that lingered after I’d finished reading. Curtis Evans addresses these issues more directly in his introduction (which I’d recommend saving for last), along with the author's treatment of African-American characters. It’s more than a little sad to encounter, but whenever I run up against this kind of thing, I remind myself that while we can’t change the past, we can—and should—learn from it.

Overall, this is a solid and highly-enjoyable volume of two engaging mysteries. Even though Miss Julia isn’t exactly a card-carrying sleuth, it’s still a pleasure to follow her as she listens and observes, sorts through what she’s heard and teases out connections (in the detective-fiction world as well as her own) as the crimes unfold.  And while she's not always on the money, I still think she's a peach.  There are three more Miss Julia mysteries to go ... hint, hint, Stark House!!

Definitely recommended for those who have followed this series in the first two books, to those who enjoy vintage crime, and especially to those readers who, like me,  have an abiding fondness for the work of more obscure women writers. 

Back from hiatus and moving right along. Dead Center, by Mary Collins

 

978888011708

Stark House, 2025

202 pp

paperback

It's been a long and very busy summer, filled with busy hours in  preparation for selling our house and moving out of state.  We're leaving the tropics and heading to the Blue Ridge Mountains, where for part of the year anyway I can be happiest in my winter clothes.   And, while I've not stopped reading completely, the frequency has dwindled over the last few months while we've been more than a bit on the stressed side.  Things are finally starting to get rolling now so we can relax, and that means attacking the stack of books I've been stockpiling over the summer.   Since Stark House has been so incredibly generous, I'll start with their upcoming November release, Dead Center, by Mary Collins from 1942.   Earlier this year I had the pleasure of reading her Sisters of Cain (1943) which was her fourth novel.  Dead Center, according to gadetection , is her second.  

Janet Keith is a well-known San Francisco socialite — the daughter of a wealthy family living in the  “Victorian monstrosity” she calls home on Pacific. But despite the charm of her well-appointed home, Janet much prefers the cramped, slightly shabby office she rents at 706 Montgomery Street, where she’s trying to make her mark as a writer — “one novelette and four quite good short stories” to her name.  The building itself has character to spare. A laundry occupies the first floor, while upstairs a handful of tenants — mostly artists, with two exceptions — work away in their own small studios. Janet’s office in this “dank old tenement” somehow feels more alive to her than her elegant house ever could.  By the end of Chapter Three, we’ve met all of Janet’s fellow tenants, and the author has skillfully planted the seeds of tension among them — rivalries, resentments, jealousies — the kind of atmosphere where a spark could easily set something off. And it does. One of their number, Anne Ehman, a woman known to “stir up trouble everywhere she goes,” turns up dead in the tenants’ shared workroom. Unfortunately for Janet, she’s the one who finds the body the next day while searching for a hammer to hang a picture, in grim fulfillment of her earlier joke that 706 Montgomery “was a perfect setting for murder.” The police think they’ve got their killer, but Janet isn’t so sure. She’s convinced they’ve made a mistake — and she’s determined to prove it.

1942 first edition cover, from Bibliophile.com

While I have to admit I enjoyed Sisters of Cain a bit more, Dead Center was still a thoroughly entertaining read — the kind that sweeps you back to 1940s San Francisco, both in atmosphere and in its sharp social and political observations. As always, I turned to one of my favorite resources, San Francisco Film Locations Then and Now to visually trace Janet’s path through the city. Following her through those streets  makes the book feel that much more alive.  She is an interesting figure: raised in privilege but drawn toward the bohemian world of struggling artists who share her building. As Ashley Lawson notes in her introduction, Janet “moves back and forth between both worlds," but she is never quite fully accepted by her fellow tenants and her family tends to see her as "something of a black sheep."   After the murders (yes, there are more than one)  things get worse on both fronts, with her father insisting on hiring a bodyguard for her, while her friends' distrust is heightened when she offers the police her help.   As she learns more about the other residents of the office block, and as the police seem to be going down the wrong road, she decides that she will have to step up and play detective to find the real answer to the crimes. 

A staple of vintage crime novels: map of 706 Montgomery Street offices; my photo, from the book

I wouldn’t exactly call Janet a “plucky heroine,” but she’s certainly entertaining to watch in action. What’s amusing is that she’s not a particularly skilled detective — the police are usually a step or two ahead of her — yet that’s part of her charm. Her back-and-forth with Spike provides some genuinely funny moments, the kind that lighten the tension just when it’s needed. As for Fitz, her fiancé… well, I have to confess I couldn’t stand him — though that's likely a personal bias.  Overall, Dead Center is a pretty good mystery (I never guessed) and an interesting look at the time period as well as the divisions existing between Janet's two worlds.  

Definitely recommended for readers of American vintage crime as well as for those who have enjoyed Mary Collins' work.  My many thanks to Stark House for my copy of this book and the others I'll be diving into here shortly.  

Crimson Friday, by Dorothy Cameron Disney

  

9798886011463

Stark House, 2025

originally published 1943

242 pp

paperback

(read earlier this month)

Another vacation read, Crimson Friday is the work of author Dorothy Cameron Disney, who published her first novel, Death in the Back Seat in 1936.  Eight more would come along over the next thirteen years including this one in 1943.  I'm quite sorry to say that I've only read one other book by this author, her The 17th Letter, but I do have Death in the Back Seat awaiting my attention on my Kindle.

Al and Janey Blake have left the hustle and bustle of New York City for the small village of Merristone, Connecticut, the site of Al's childhood home.   Al's brother Selby had convinced them to buy an "old New England house" so they've come back to the village awaiting the completion of the remodeling and staying in the home of Al's Aunt Mildred in the meantime. While the issues and the "difficulties with the remodeling venture" were part and parcel of the village gossip, the more pressing business in the local gossip circles was a woman who had moved into the village a year before, known as the "Merristone Enigma."  This is a certain V. Moran, and as Janey, who narrates the story notes, "After a residence of a year, the village had been unable to discover so much as Mrs. Moran's first name. The provocative initial on her mailbox remained unsolved." This is a woman who had two cats that she walked like dogs, and lived with a maid by the name of Hannah, described as "lantern-jawed, bespectacled" who gave people a "cold stare" and was obviously quite deaf, carrying an earphone around with her.  She wore a "dizzying succession of rainbow hues," complete with "floating veils," and Janey's convinced she's sticking to "a single style and a single garish color for each appearance."   A January Friday rolls around, and something unusal happens leaving Janey and Al completely speechless -- while on a walk one day, Hannah stops them to say that Mrs. V. Moran wants them for tea.  Al doesn't want to go at all, and reminds Jane that their family is supposed to be getting together that night so they wouldn't have time anyway, but Hannah finds them at their still-unfinished home and "enforces an acceptance."   So it's off they go, with Al's curiousity piqued now,  and find themselves walking into a true spectacle, highlighted by  Mrs. V. Moran wearing crimson.  As she explains,

"Friday's crimson for me... just as Thursday is yellow. A deep sulphur yellow. Saturday is always green. Sunday's white, of course, and Monday's blue." Electric blue..."

Things get weirder as teatime toddles along, with Mrs. V. Moran making her guests beyond uncomfortable with easy-to-spot lies, tears, "posing and posturing."  Finally, she makes an exit, leaving Al and Jane completely alone, so they go back to Aunt Mildred's for the planned family dinner.  For some reason, that goes south as well, so Alan takes everyone back to their property to see what's been happening there.  The architect decides to start with the stairway, using a flashlight to illuminate the scene.  But instead of seeing what he wants them to see, the light picks up the dead body of Hannah, who has a crushed skull, the result of having been beaten to death.  Worse, no one can find Mrs. V. Moran -- has something happened to her as well?   

Map in Dell 1946 edition, from Abebooks

Clues start piling up that link a specific person (who is not talking) to Hannah's death, but wait -- as everyone will soon begin to realize, nothing is actually as it seems in this murder.  I sort of guessed a small part of what was going on, but as for the larger picture, I had no clue.   The author is quite clever  with her plotting, establishing a set of mysterious circumstances in which a particular clue (or set of clues) lead to another plotline that then sheds an entirely new light on the story.  To say any more would be criminal, except that the early mention of "Pandora's Box" is not at all out of line in this mystery, and that the title doesn't really make sense until everything is revealed, at which point you'll probably find yourself (as I did) doing a big "aha!"  Another factor at play here is just how very much the family suffers as the case drags on, with the anxiety being writ large throughout.  The only issue I have is that while  I don't generally say this about older mystery stories, the motives behind certain actions (or inactions) in this book seem a bit dated (and to be honest, a bit on the melodramatic side) in our own time, but overall,  Crimson Friday gave me a good run at one of my favorite pastimes, armchair sleuthing, and was very, very entertaining.   I can certainly recommend this book to fellow readers of vintage crime.  And while I'm here, I hope Stark House continues to reprint Disney's work -- these two that I've read have been well worth every second of time I've invested.  

Thanks to Stark House as always for my advanced reading copy!  

Night Cry, by William L. Stuart

 

9798886011531

Stark House Press, 2025

originally published 1948

162 pp

paperback

(read in April)

A few weeks ago I turned on my television and an ad/small clip for the 1950 movie Where the Sidewalk Ends popped up on the home page for Amazon Fire TV (I know, but I really hate cable).   I clicked on the "add to my list" button, thinking it looked like a good noir film to hold on to for a late night insomnia viewing.  So, imagine my surprise when this book arrived the next day with its photo of Dana Andrews on the cover.   I took it as kismet and read the novel right away.    And before I get into this post, my many thanks to the Stark House Press people -- they are just terrific. 

Lieutenant Mark Deglin is still angry over missing out on a promotion he thought he'd had in the bag.   He believes that he's "one of the best detectives on the force," but as his captain notes, "he doesn't do things by the book all the time" while on the job.  He's still carrying that chip on his shoulders the night he is called out to a gambling club to investigate a murder.  The victim had been in a fight earlier that evening with another gambler by the name of Kendall Paine, a war-weary, decorated  vet who had since been thrown out of the club, so he quickly becomes the prime suspect.   Deglin goes to Paine's apartment where he starts asking questions, but the situation changes for the worse when the two men get into a physical fight and Paine falls down dead.   When Deglin calls in, he learns that the murder has been solved and that Paine wasn't the killer.  Instead of copping to the truth of what happened, he goes into cover-up mode, ditching the body while leaving clues that suggest that Paine had left town.  Things might have worked out at this point, but the real complications set in when Deglin is told that  although he's no longer wanted for murder, the DA really needs Paine as a witness in the murder case, and Deglin's captain assigns him the task of finding him. Deglin's web of deceit becomes even more tangled when Paine's girlfriend, Morgan Taylor, refuses to believe that Paine would just up and leave and a reporter named Smith offers to help her find him.  To add yet another twist to the knife, some secrets refuse to stay buried, backing Deglin into a tight  corner while the walls close in. 

first edition, Dial, 1948 (from Abebooks)

Aside from the taut story here, Night Cry is a compelling psychological portrait of a man battling his inner demons as the weight of his actions comes down on him. It also asks the question of what happens when the badge becomes worthless and a cop is left to ponder what's left. It is a truly fine crime novel, with darkness gripping the narrative tightly, and with noir vibes seeping deep into all facets of this book. It is gritty, moody and emotionally charged, and I give the author a lot of credit for building this story in well under two hundred pages.  From the outset, the author crafted an atmosphere that not only doesn't quit, but stays with you long after you've finished reading.    I can most highly recommend this book, especially to readers of vintage noir, and to crime aficionados who don't mind the darkness.

from posteritati

The novel is the latest in Stark House's Film Noir Classics series, so after the book comes the film viewing.  The  1950 film, scripted by Ben Hecht and directed by Otto Preminger, is gripping in its own right and well worth the watch, although I have to admit my preference for the novel.   In the movie Deglin becomes Mark Dixon;  Dana Andrews really throws himself into the role, slipping into Dixon's skin and taking on the moral weight that drags this man down as he finds himself ever so slowly hemmed in by his actions.  Gene Tierney's Morgan Taylor changes in the movie novel from a socialite to the daughter of a cabbie who models designer gowns for a living.  The story goes well during  the first half of the film, pacing and plot on point, but starts to lose its intensity as Dixon and Taylor find themselves falling in love.   And while the novel's ending wasn't exactly the best, the film's ending was just disappointing.   But as I say, it's still well worth watching. 

Bottom line: loved the book, movie was good but not a) great or b) as well done as the novel. 

The Sister of Cain, by Mary Collins

 

97988866011296

Stark House Press, 2025

originally published 1943, Charles Scribner's Sons

196 pp

paperback

One of my greatest mystery-reading pleasures is discovering authors whose work has been around for a long time but who are new to me, especially women writers I've never heard of before.   I've found that joy here with The Sister of Cain, published by Stark House last month, by Mary Collins (1908 - 1979).

About this author I can find very little online, except for the brief blurb at the Stark House website, which tells me that she was born in St. Louis, MO, then moved along with her family to Berkeley at age three where later she would attend the University of California. She wrote "a few fiction stories" for a magazine called The Passing Show, eventually turning to mystery writing, with six novels written between 1941 and 1949: The Fog Comes, Dead Center, Only the Good (also reprinted by Stark House 2022),  The Sister of Cain, Death Warmed Over, and Dog Eat Dog.  It seems that she then "retired from writing" to give her time to her family.  There is also an archive of materials covering her mystery-writing years and a few years beyond, containing "correspondence, contracts, manuscripts, notes and scrapbooks, 1941-1953," for a scholarly someone who might want to delve further into her life.  

On to the novel now, which according to Curtis Evans in his introduction to this book, received a "rave review" from Dorothy B. Hughes and was also broadcast on radio in 1944 as part of  the Molle Mystery Theater Program  from NBC (I've just spent a couple of hours scanning that page and being completely awed at all the titles I know).   Hilda Moreau has arrived in San Francisco at the home of her husband David's family; more specifically, his six sisters Pauline, Sophie, Anne, Elise,  Marthe and Rose, varying in age from 51 to 20, Pauline being the eldest.  There was another sister, Berthe, but she had died fifteen years earlier.  David and Hilda had met while he was teaching and she, a teacher, had been attending a summer session where he worked.  They married just shortly after Pearl Harbor, and because of his Navy reserve commission, he had been called up for active duty, and the last time she'd seen him was a month earlier, in New York.   She has come to his family home while he was serving in the Atlantic because she had no family to speak of; the plan was that Hilda would find an apartment but still enjoy the security of being looked after by his sisters.  The Moreaus lived in "the oldest house still standing in San Francisco ... built in 1852," which Curtis Evans notes is based on a "real city mansion, built in 1852 and known locally as Humphrey's Circle." 

The Humphrey House, from Library of Congress

 Oh. And Hilda is pregnant, but neither she nor David have told anyone yet. 

 Original hardcover edition, from Abebooks

Instead of a warm and loving family, Hilda discovers the opposite.  Pauline, it seems, has complete control over the sisters, financially and otherwise, to the point where she will not allow any of the sisters to marry.  Hilda realizes early on how this woman has created an atmosphere of "fear and bitterness and hatred."  There is also a maid, Nanette, who has been with Pauline since she was born, who is as surly toward the sisters as can be.    Hilda quickly gets down to brass tacks with Pauline regarding her husband's portion of the family trust, but Pauline has other ideas.  It seems that the trust can only be broken by marriage, and since David is now married, all of the siblings should legally be able to come into their share.  Pauline refuses to speak to her about it, so Hilda tells her that she has no other choice but to use her power of attorney and to speak to a lawyer.  This situation doesn't sit well with Pauline, who has control over the trust.  Unfortunately, Hilda is pretty much stuck at the house for the time being, since housing is nearly impossible while the city was filled with "service people, shipyard workers, and government employees."  It isn't too long, however, until murder also finds its way into the house when Pauline is found dead, killed with a knife from the kitchen.  As one of the sisters says, "there's no grief in this house" over her death, since they'd all "wished her dead a thousand times."  But, as the detective says to Pauline, 

"The other people in this house have had their motives for a good many years, Mrs. Moreau. The fun didn't start until after you got here, did it?" 

While the police focus on Hilda as the possible murderer, and as long-buried secrets come cascading out that provide definite reasons for wanting Pauline dead,  Hilda does all that she can to find the real culprit in the house, but it won't be too long before there are more deaths and she finds herself in serious danger.

What a fun ride this novel is, and how incredibly hard it was to have to put this book down when I had to!  The gothic vibe is pretty strong here with Collins doing a great job establishing a dark, tension-filled atmosphere almost immediately.  While Pauline is a great villain for reasons I won't go into, it's really all eyes on Hilda here, who is an extremely strong woman, more than capable of taking care of herself and not averse to personal risk in her quest to clear her name and to bring the real murderer to justice.  I will say that it was rather cringeworthy to see her light up while pregnant, but ah, the things no one really knew back then.  The historian in me was also interested in her descriptions of wartime San Francisco which after all, she knew very well.  

I tried so hard to guess the killer's identity and absolutely couldn't, even as the number of people started dwindling, because there were just too many great suspects.    I consider that a true plus -- Collins really didn't make it easy.  I can certainly and highly recommend The Sister of Cain for vintage crime readers and for mystery lovers like myself who enjoy finding new and somewhat obscure writers from the past.  

As always, my many thanks to Stark House for my copy (these guys are so great), and I'm sure I'll be moseying over there to pick up a copy of another Mary Collins novel.  

One more thing: there is an amazing blogger by the name of Tim Welsh who has not only read this book, but has posted photos of the various locations described by the author.  Don't go there until you've read The Sister of Cain, but his blog, San Francisco Film Locations Then & Now: A Then and now Tour and History of San Francisco Through Films and Photography is well worth the visit when you've finished.  I bookmarked it so I'm sure I'll be spending time going through that rabbithole in the near future. 

The Bus Station Murders/No Pockets in Shrouds, by Louisa Revell

 

"...murder isn't a very nice ladylike hobby, I know ..."

9798886011265

Stark House Press, 2025

originally published 1947/1948 respectively

292 pp

paperback

Coming to Stark House in January 2025 is another set of two novels in one volume, written by a woman whose work, I thought, had been all but forgotten, Louisa Revell.  It is so nice that Stark House has chosen to bring at least these two back into print, The Bus Station Murders and No Pockets in Shrouds, both set during World War II in 1945.    As I started reading the first of the two  it wasn't too long before I realized that I'd read it before. I mean, seriously, there just aren't all that many mystery novels that begin with someone being stabbed by a knitting needle while on a bus so it was easily recognizable.  I'd also posted about it some time ago here  when I was first exploring forgotten and neglected women authors from the past, which has now become one of my crime/mystery-reading passions.  The very awesome people at Stark House have not only helped to support my indulgence with their wonderful reprint editions, and but have also introduced me to women writers I've never heard of.  My thanks to them for this copy.  

As I noted in my original post about The Bus Station Murders, which is the first in a series featuring Miss Julia Tyler, crime just seems to follow her whenever she's away from home.  In this story, she has gone to visit her great-niece Anne and her husband in Annapolis, and she hasn't even gotten off the bus there when a few of the passengers notice a "gray-haired woman" who seems to be deep in slumber  even though the noise should have been enough to wake her.  In fact, Miss Julia's seatmate wonders aloud how anyone could remain asleep through all of the hubbub but it turns out that "the woman was dead," having been stabbed by a silver knitting needle.  Needless to say, although she's a bit reluctant to take part in any sort of investigation, she is eventually talked into it by the lead detective on the case who, as she discovers, is one of her former students.  He changes her mind by saying that he's hoping she'll become "another Miss Marple or Miss Silver" and that he can definitely use her help. 

These are not just idle words; Julia has a great fondness for crime novels, especially those written by Mary Roberts Rinehart, Agatha Christie, Mignon Eberhart and other famous female crime writers; in No Pockets in Shrouds she also references E. Phillips Oppenheim , a hugely-prolific writer (whose book Ghosts of Society has also recently been reprinted by Stark House and which I've commented on here). 

from PS Publishing (the nerve of the designer of this book cover, for reasons which will go unsaid!) 

No Pockets in Shrouds is book number two in this series.  Miss Julia's visit with her niece has come to a close after four months, and after a suggestion by Anne that she go somewhere nice while her house is being rented out, sixty-eight year old Julia decides that perhaps Louisville, Kentucky is the place to be.  She has an old friend named Charlotte Buckner who had read about her bus-station adventures and had invited Julia to "make her a visit" at her home there.   Three or so months later, Julia had seen Charlotte's photo in a newspaper article describing the murder of the Helm family butler, along with a young member of the Helm family who had been suspected of that death.  Charlotte had long been connected with the Helms, and Julia, even though she finds Charlotte "tiresome," she decides that Louisville is where she should go next.  As she said about her choice of vacation venue, "I went where murder was."  The butler's murder is still  unsolved, while she doesn't believe Charlotte's notion that the murderer must have been a tramp, Julia hopes that she will be able to do some  sleuthing to see if she can make any headway in discovering the identity of the killer.  What she doesn't count on is another murder which takes place during her time with Charlotte; the sad thing is that the killer is most likely someone she knows.    

It may well be wartime, but prominent Louisville society ("all the nice families") continues with its rituals -- the telephone is silent after ten a.m. when calls become those of the in-person sort; there are afternoon receptions and the social niceties continue to observed. The biggest interruption, it seems, is that the Kentucky Derby would not be keeping its regular May schedule.  It is because of being in this milieu that  Julia has to tread carefully, but despite everything, she will not stop until she gets to the truth.  

I will just say that there are a few cringeworthy reading moments when it comes to race, but I do appreciate that Stark House didn't go down the route taken by a few publishers to clean it all up to reflect modern sensibilities.  I once read a modern redo of No Orchids for Miss Blandish that was completely sanitized and it really pissed me off.  I remember saying at the time that Shakespeare would likely be next.   Back to the business at hand though,  even though she understands that "murder isn't a very nice ladylike hobby," Miss Julia Tyler and her adventures in sleuthing make for a truly fun read -- while the solutions to these mysteries may take their time, it is  totally worth it for readers of vintage crime, especially American vintage crime.  While you shouldn't expect carbon copies of Miss Marple or any of her British fictional counterparts here, Miss Julia certainly shares with them the ability to quietly soak up the scene on the sidelines before she makes her move.  I hope that in the future Stark House will be so kind as to continue to reprint Revell's work.  Definitely different, and definitely recommended.  As always, do not miss the intro by Curtis Evans but save it until after you've finished reading both books.  

Ghosts of Society, by E. Phillips Oppenheim

 

9798886011203

Stark House Press, 2024

originally published 1908

235 pp

paperback

Ghosts of Society was originally published as The Distributors in 1908, coming at number thirty-two in author E. Phillips Oppenheim's (1866 - 1946) published novels, the first having been published in 1887.   He was incredibly prolific in his writing, publishing well over one hundred novels during his lifetime, along with several collections of short stories, a few autobiographical works, and as Daniel Paul Morrison notes in his extremely informative appendix at the end of this novel, "45 motion pictures."   Five of his novels, including this one, were written under the pseudonym of Anthony Partridge.  Ghosts of Society is my first novel by Oppenheim; I have a few more of his books on my shelves so it will very likely not be the last.  I had fun with this one, for sure.

The "Ghosts" are a group of seven people who are all welcomed within the higher rungs of London  society, right around the turn of the century.    Their leader is Lord Evelyn, but all decisions are made by consensus among the members.  In his introduction to this novel, Curtis Evans notes that they were a "fashionable set of Londoners,"  which 

"the postwar, Roaring Twenties generation would call denizens of "cafe society, and today in the democratic social media era we simply term influencers."

The "essential qualifications," as explained by one of their number to the young American woman Sophy Van Heldt are "birth, culture, and understanding," and "an earnest desire to acquire some interest in life apart from the purely mundane."    A more in-depth glimpse into the Ghosts is offered by another member much later in the story, who describes the group as people who 

"had gone at life with too much of a rush. Life, you know ... is made up of many chambers and a man or a woman cannot live in all of them. These people made the mistake of trying to do this. They rushed from room to room. They drank great gulps where they should have only sipped. They plunged head-foremost where they should have only paddled. Then, when they were still young, weariness came. They had tried everything. They were foolish enough to suppose that they had given everything a fair trial."

 Everyone knows that it is "considered a kind of bad form" to ask about them, and when Sophy makes the mistake of asking a certain Mr. Mallison directly about the group (not knowing that he is a member),  she is given a fairly firm and very rude snub, one she does not take kindly.  She makes up her mind that Mallison and "some of the others should suffer for it," which leads her to hire a private detective to get anything and everything he can find on the Ghosts.  What no one knows except the group (and their fence) is that when the Ghosts 

"come across a person whom we consider overburdened with this world's goods, and who shows no desire or design of doing anything else except spending his money upon himself and for his own gratification, we use our courage and our brains to make a pay a very legitimate fine."

In other words, they rob the wealthy of their jewels, using the proceeds of the sales to fund causes that benefit the poor, all anonymously of course.  In this story, one of their "victims" is a known tyrant in his own country, while the other two are more or less arriviste, all of whom have the wealth that allows them access to the company and house parties of Society.   The detective hired by Sophy just might turn out to be an issue, especially when things go very, very wrong during one such robbery. There are other forces at work as well among various individual members that may potentially threaten the group as a whole and certainly add uncertainty to the Ghosts' future. 

There is, of course, much more to this story. I found myself completely drawn to the whole  fin-de-siècle feel and the social observations of that particular era as expressed by the author, especially in terms of bored aristos craving change from what they see as their rather tedious, boring lives, and the desire to experience new sensations outside of the ordinary.   The plot is also pretty good, with the suspense slowly building as Sophy's detective moves closer to fulfilling his mission -- the last few pages are definitely page turners.  

My thanks to Stark House for my copy!  

The 17th Letter, by Dorothy Cameron Disney

 

9798886011210

Stark House Press, 2024

originally published 1945

212 pp

paperback

Published just this month, The 17th Letter is my introduction to the work of Dorothy Cameron Disney.  She was the author of nine novels, written between 1936 and 1949; The 17th Letter comes in at number seven.  According to the introduction in the Stark House edition by Curtis Evans, the novel "draws heavily" from the real-life story of Franz von Werra, a German prisoner of war in England who, after being transferred to Ontario, Canada along with other prisoners, escaped by jumping out of the window of a train and eventually made his way back to Nazi Germany.  The 17th Letter is, as Evans says, a "flight-and-pursuit thriller," and somewhat of a departure for the author, whose previous books were more in the "classic style of mystery godmother Mary Roberts Rinehart."   For someone like me who devours vintage crime, that departure and the turn to something different is most welcome.  

The main characters in this novel are Mary and Paul Strong, two journalists who live in a New York apartment overlooking Washington Square.   Their best friend is Max Ferris, who has been away on assignment for News Review documenting a picture story of a convoy destined for Murmansk.  With his task completed, Ferris made his way to Iceland, where he had been stuck for "six long weeks," waiting for some way to make it back home.  In the meantime, he'd been sending his friends a series of letters, sixteen in total, with a number denoting their order on the envelopes.   Now he was expected back home via "the Clipper" from Reykjavik, where he'd been staying with some Danish fishermen, but Paul learns that not only had Max not made the plane, but he had actually given up his ticket.  While Mary thinks that Max might be ill,  Paul believes that "Something important kept him off the Clipper", but he has no conceivable idea of what it might be.   His suspicion increases when he and Mary receive a cable from their friend telling them that there will be a seventeenth letter in the mail, and that they should "be understanding."  The weirdest part of the message is in Max's signature, where he adds a strange middle name -- Icarus. The promised missive arrives, but again it's obvious that something out of the ordinary is going on, since all it contains is a theater program for a show that had run five months earlier.   Add to all of this the theft of some of Max's letters, new neighbors in the building and a strange man in the park who seems to know a great deal about Paul and Mary and finally some devastating news about Max, and Paul decides that it's time to go and find out what's going on with their friend, setting off aboard a ship.  Mary, who has stayed behind, comes across some dangerous information that needs to be acted upon immediately, and knows she must relay it to her husband at any cost, finding herself aboard the same ship as a stowaway.  They manage to make it to Halifax in Nova Scotia, and it is here where their adventure truly begins; unfortunately, they have no idea who they can trust as they find themselves in a great deal of trouble. 

1945 first edition, from Abebooks

I love espionage stories, especially those set during the first and second world wars as well as the cold war era.  Here, Disney starts with a strange mystery which leads to a slow-building suspense before moving on into full-blown page-turner mode.   I have to share that while reading The 17th Letter, I had to employ the old suspension of disbelief here and there, and I noticed myself doing the inner eye roll at the coincidences that pop up, but when all is said and done, this story worked well for me.  What comes through very strongly is the wartime setting which highlights the urgency of the Strongs' plight as they desperately try to find anyone in authority they can trust to share the information they carry, all the while trying to prevent themselves being captured.  And finally, who wouldn't love a dog named Bosco? 

I can recommend this one to people who are looking for something a bit off the beaten path in vintage crime, or to those who would like to read more by lesser-known American women mystery writers, or to people who enjoy books featuring husband-and-wife crime-solving teams.  My review copy came from the publishers, to whom I owe many thanks -- hopefully there will be more books by this author in the works.  

The Wench is Dead ... / Miscast For Murder, by Ruth Fenisong

 

9798886010909

Stark House, 2024

324 pp

paperback

(a huge thank you to the good people at Stark House)

(read earlier in July)

I recently paid an online visit  to Stark House's website to order two more two-in-one volumes by this author, which together comprise the first four novels in this series.   I am a series completist so it drives me a bit batty not to at least start with book number one when I come across a new-to-me detective character, in this case,  Gridley "Grid" Nelson of the New York City Police.  Today's book contains numbers eight and nine, so I obviously have a bit of catching up to do.   

This series spans two decades in the making with the first novel,  Murder Needs a Name, published in 1942.  Ruth Fenisong (1904 - 1978)  would go on to write twelve more installments of this series, while also several publishing nonseries books during the same time frame with two more coming along  afterwards, one in 1967 and the last in 1970.  Curtis Evans provides a brief biography of Fenisong in the introduction to this book; his blog The Passing Tramp offers additional insights into the author's life as well as her work.  

1953 paperback cover, from Fantasic Fiction

It's June, and Nadine (Dene) Cameron has received and turned down several offers from friends to make a the yearly "exodus" from New York City and the Manhattan heat.  The one she accepts comes from an older couple, Vera and Sam Curtis, who she doesn't know very well at all, but Vera has assured her that she understands Dene's need for a bit of independence.  Vera's home on Long Island has a gatehouse where Dene can stay, which is not too far from the main house but will afford Dene the privacy she desires.  Vera will be away for a while, but Sam will be in residence, and could use Dene's company from time to time.   On her arrival at Sandy Crest, "at the far end of Long Island," she is picked up by Sam and another man, who is driving Sam's car, by the name of Paul Debrulet.  As the blurb for this book notes, "the attraction is immediate."   As they start to become close, Dene feels like there is more to this man than meets the eye, but whatever it may be he's not saying.   Back in New York City,  Gridley Nelson is a lieutenant and the acting captain of homicide, NYPD.   He lives with his wife Kyrie and their "two and a fraction" year-old son Grid Junio (referred to as Junie) in an apartment on Lexington Avenue, where the family is taken care of by the cook, Sammy.   Home from a very tough case,  Grid notices that his son has latched on to a pile of magazines which he'd discovered at the incinerator, a true detective sort of thing complete with pictures of wanted criminals.  For some reason, Junie just loves these things, wanting to hear bedtime stories (made up, of course -- not the facts) based on the photos.   As it happens, Kyrie and Junie have been invited to stay with friends on Long Island for a few days.   The two stories merge at a dinner party held by Vera and Sam, where, once seated at the table with the guests, Kyrie is taken completely aback when she realizes that she is sitting with someone she recognizes from the photos in one of her son's magazines, someone who is wanted for murder in another state.   This is when the action really kicks in, beginning with a hit-and-run accident, or was it? 

1954 Doubleday Crime Club edition, from Amazon

Miscast for Murder (1954) moves the action back into New York City.  The story centers around the relationship between a young woman named Bess Rohan and her estranged father, Kevin Culhane, who used to be a renowned singer  back in the day.  His wife had divorced him when Bess was still a small child, and then remarried some time later.  Bess hasn't seen her father in years, so imagine her surprise when she sees him one day while at lunch in a restaurant near  the publishing company where she works. She says nothing to him but seeing him (and the young woman who accompanies him)  weighs heavily on her mind, largely because of all of the negativity about her father generated by her mother since Bess had been a child. Even though her mother has remarried, the subject of Kevin Culhane remains "taboo" between them.  Luckily she has her Aunt Alma, with whom she lives in the city, and a new friend, Link Bassett, a radio broadcaster who enjoys a certain amount of celebrity.  While Link and Bess hang out at her place (and unbeknownst to Bess),  Alma and Kevin are dining together at a restaurant.   Alma talks Kevin into coming over to her place to reunite with Bess, but first they have to make a stop at Kevin's hotel so that he can change his shirt that is now "coffee-spotted" after a mishap at the dinner table.   They agree that Alma will wait in the lobby while Kevin changes, but more than half an hour goes by without him returning.  He can't be reached by phone in his room, so Alma decides to go up and see if everything is okay.  The door is unlocked, so she goes into the dimly-lit room where she discovers a dead body on the floor which she covers with a black coat that's laying on the floor. She did not, however, phone the police but goes back to her apartment instead, where later, Kevin shows up.  Bess shuts herself in her room not wanting to have anything to do with her father, but her father returns to her life in a very big way after the police arrive the next morning looking for him in connection with the murder of the woman in his hotel room. 

Fenisong's detective Grid Nelson is certainly not your average New York City Cop. In The Wench is Dead we learn that he and his wife live comfortably and have "plenty of money," and in Miscast For Murder the two have moved from their apartment to a house and are still "more than solvent."  He is aware that there are some people who view his job as "no more than an eccentric hobby indulged in by a man of wealth and background," but for Nelson that's not the way it is, having 

"almost empathic identification with humanity at large, the slayer as well as the slain, the parents of each, the issue, the wives or husbands, the lovers, the friends, all those who had been encircled by the elastic radius of crime." 

His focus on "humanity at large" also filters down into his home life, especially in his relationship with the family's African-American housekeeper Sammy.  It's refreshing to see the way Fenisong writes this character, especially given that it's the 1950s.  

Of these two books I enjoyed Miscast for Murder a bit more, largely because it's much more of a whodunit than The Wench is Dead .., where I pretty much waited for the police to catch up to what I already knew.   The solution to Miscast for Murder took me by surprise, but there are definitely plenty of suspects to ponder over in the meantime. 

I love traveling back into yesteryear and discovering these old mysteries -- I actually prefer older to newer so it's a genuine pleasure when Stark House sends me a book that makes me want to discover more from the same author.  I think true fans of vintage American crime will enjoy these two books in one, and even if you haven't read the earlier series books, the way these stories are written sort of hint at Nelson's past so it's not at all necessary to know much of anything prior to reading this one.  My thanks to Stark House for the pleasurable hours I spent with this book. 

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Kiss the Blood off My Hands, by Gerald Butler

 

9798886010886

Stark House Press, 2024

originally published 1948

166 pp

paperback 

Just released this month, Kiss the Blood Off My Hands is the latest in the Noir Film Classics  series from Stark House Press.  I have a few of these books but this is the first I've read.  And since I love to see books I've read  sort of come alive on the screen, I bought a copy of the 1948 film based on this novel starring Burt Lancaster and Joan Fontaine and watched it as soon as I'd finished reading.  More on the movie later -- on to the book. 

The action begins in a pub when Bill Saunders, fresh off the boat in England,  kills a bouncer. He hadn't meant to, but the punch he'd landed on the man's face knocked him to the floor, stone cold dead. He doesn't care that the guy is dead; all he cares about is getting out of there.   Before anyone could call the police, Bill takes off running and so do a few others, chasing right behind him.  He notices a woman "going into a door," and takes advantage of the situation, forcing his way in.  Deciding to stay overnight, the next morning Bill discovers that the woman (Jane) has guts and doesn't seem afraid of him.  He realizes that she's different than the other women in his experience, and that  "There was something about her."  Eventually he leaves after she returns home from her job, but it won't be the last they see of each other. 

Bill is a certified tough guy, beating up and stealing money from taxi customers, robbing a sex worker, referring to women as bitches and tarts, and violence, which exists just beneath his surface,  is his way of dealing with most situations.  For him, people are just mugs, and as such, they're prey, ready to be taken advantage of.  He doesn't respond normally on an emotional level, but he is definitely attracted to Jane, showing up at her workplace,  but with Jane (whom he refers to as "the kid"), he's different.  He still hasn't told her that he'd actually killed the bouncer, and somehow he is able to persuade her to go out with him, at first to the races, then for tea based on the money she'd won from the track but when they're on a train and Bill tries the 3-card con on a fellow passenger, she sees his true colors when he turns violent when the fellow doesn't want to play any longer.  Then she lets him have it:

"I can't pretend that I didn't know you were a tough guy. I was fool enough to allow myself to be attracted by that. But I thought there was something decent underneath. Now I know there isn't. You're nothing but a cheap, bullying hooligan." 

Although she tells him she never wants to have anything to with him again, and that he's "rotten," it's that "something decent underneath" that Jane saw in him that eventually brings the two back together, with her believing that maybe a decent job would do him some good and give his life "a shape again."  Can she change this man  by taming what Curtis Evans refers to in his introduction as "his brutal impulses with the proverbial good woman's love?"  Is Bill at all redeemable and can he truly be rehabilitated?  In the meanwhile, in an horrific twist I didn't see coming, Jane finds herself in an unexpected dilemma that has the potential to bring everything crashing down around the two of them and tear down what the two have managed to build. 

The length of this book has nothing whatsoever to do with its complexity, and when an author can pack so much into such a short space, in my opinion, he's done a fine job.  Here that complexity is found not only in the character of Bill, or in the question of redemption, but more to the point, in the way that Butler maps out exactly how one random event sets everything else into motion, with unintended, and most certainly unexpected  consequences rippling down the line, definitely a true noir trait. 

It's so good that I couldn't put it down once I'd picked it up.   Solidly good reading and an absolute must for anyone who likes tough, gritty  twisty noir.  A giant thank you to Stark House for my copy!

 

from Movie Poster Shop

And now the film -- I once did a mega Burt Lancaster moviefest in the comfort of my own home, but somehow I missed this one.  Kiss the Blood Off My Hands was released in 1948, with Lancaster starring alongside Joan Fontaine.  The opening chase sequence is just dynamite with Lancaster running through the dark, shadowed streets of London before climbing into Joan Fontaine's window.   All of the basics of the novel are there as a foundation, although there are quite a few changes, as expected.   Fontaine plays Jane, whose occupation changed between page and screen from a shopgirl  to a nurse.  I have to think that it's as a caregiver that movie Jane recognizes something damaged inside of Bill, and it is instinct that makes her want to help him.  It's also a good setup, because as part of Jane's ability to help him keep his violent tendencies in check and get Bill focused, she is able to get him a job as the driver for the clinic where she works; in one particular case, he is able to bring a young father the medicine his dying daughter desperately needs to survive.  Even though ignorance causes the dad to not want his child to have it, the scene affords a glimpse of something within Bill that truly cares about this little girl as he forces his past the father to make sure she gets what she needs.  And speaking of Bill, in the film he admits to having been a POW, where in the book, he doesn't really have too much backstory going on.   One of the biggest changes, however, has to do with a blackmailer played by actor Robert Newton, whose utter nastiness comes through on the screen enough to make you uncomfortable just looking at the guy.  I won't say what the differences are so as not to wreck things, but the changes vis-a-vis that particular portion of the plot  worked very nicely in the film, as the suspense ratchets slowly until a fateful moment, but it's clear that the story's not quite over yet.   Nicely done, although I did prefer the ending in the novel to the ending of the film, although I didn't jump for joy over either one.

So, both book and movie are a yes, both I can easily recommend. 

double feature: Poor Harriet/The Silent Cousin, by Elizabeth Fenwick

 

9798886010763

Stark House Press, 2024

217 pp

paperback 

Released just recently, this two-books-in-one edition from Stark House features the work of a woman whose work may not be a household name among mystery readers, but deserves to be brought back into the light.  Elizabeth Fenwick (1916-1996), aka E.P. Fenwick, wrote her first novel just after high school.  It was rejected upon submission, and she moved on to other things, including French translations.  Evidently she wasn't one to give up -- in 1943 Farrar and Rinehart published her An Inconvenient Corpse and two more crime novels under the E.P. Fenwick pseudonym in 1944 and 1945.  She would return to crime fiction again in 1957 with Poor Harriet, but she hadn't sat idle in between, having written three non-crime books (and evidently a very busy life, according to Curtis Evans' introduction to this volume) before returning to the genre.  Wikipedia offers a list of her published works; I am fortunate enough to have picked up three of her crime novels published by Stark House some time ago: Two Names for Death (as E.P. Fenwick, 1945; part of their fabulous Black Gat series), and another two-for-one containing The Make-Believe Man from 1963 and A Friend of Mary Rose (1961), both written as Elizabeth Fenwick.  

In Poor Harriet, Marianne Hinkley does the books for Bryce Builders in Connecticut,  taking all of the financial woes of the company upon her own shoulders since Mr. Bryce's attitude is one of "To hell with what the books say!"  Money is tight, and the situation is not helped by Mrs. Irma Bryce, whose shopping bills are paid from company funds and who seems to be, as she puts it, "living out of the cash drawer."  On the day this novel opens, Irma is in the office, needing a thousand dollars, which Marianne assures her won't be happening.  Mrs. B has a plan in hand, though, taking out a diamond bracelet and telling Marianne that if she would go to a certain man in New York City, he would "buy this in a minute" and afterward, Mrs. Bryce would give Marianne a percentage of anything over the price Irma wants if she can sell it for more.   She can't go herself, she says, because word might get out; to sweeten the deal, she also promises Marianne that she won't ask for any more money until the new development the company has built has sold out.  That is an offer that Marianne can't refuse;  Irma makes the appointment and Marianne later makes her way to a particular address to make the sale.   The contact, a Mr. Moran, doesn't have the thousand but offers to set Marianne up with someone who does.  She is to wait there with Mrs. Moran, an older English woman named Harriet, while he makes arrangements.  Before Marianne goes with Harriet for tea in her room, however, she decides that she's done with these people and doesn't want to go somewhere else to make the deal, so she calls Irma to let her know it's off.   She makes arrangements to meet at Grand Central, where Marianne will wait for her until midnight.  She's set to go, but as a kindness decides to stay for one cup with Harriet before she leaves.  It's a decision that leaves serious repercussions in its wake, not least of which is murder.   This scenario could be the setup for any number of crime novels, but alongside the murder mystery, there is also a dark depiction of a woman tyrannized mentally and physically by an abusive spouse.  When I'd finished this novel,  I read the introduction, which led me to the excellent and informative introduction by Curtis Evans to The Make-Believe Man/A Friend of Mary Rose, where I discovered that Fenwick had sadly herself lived through this sort of situation, making the aftermath of my reading even more poignant.  

original cover of Poor Harriet, 1957. From Capitol Hill Books

The Silent Cousin also has its share of darkness, although this story is a bit more complicated in the reading than its predecessor and definitely more gothic in tone.    First things first: as Curtis Evans says in his intro, make yourself some sort of family tree or at least a list of who's who in this novel.  I didn't read the introduction until after I'd finished the entire book so I missed that advice, but as luck would have it, I ended up doing it anyway once I got tired of flipping back and forth through the pages.  Trust me, it is a lifesaver and will keep the reading flow going at a good pace with no interruption to the buildup of suspense going on here. 

The Onderdonk estate was established back before the turn of the twentieth century with the building of a grand house named Long Acre.  On the estate are three other dwellings:  the Hall, currently the home of Humphrey and Cora Onderdonk and their older daughters Louisa and Millie, a farmhouse where the estate manager MacDonald now lives, and a cottage originally called The Study in the Woods, which  Millicent Onderdonk (now deceased and daughter of the original Onderdonk) had refitted for her husband, a certain Dr. Potter.   All of the present-day Onderdonks live on the estate with the exception of the family of John Onderdonk, who had left for Chicago and whose grandson John Watson is the current heir.   To make a very long story short, the estate is tied up in trust in terms of both land and money; any requests pertaining to funds go through MacDonald.    

After spending his childhood with the Onderdonk cousins, as an adult, Dr. Potter's son Paul (affectionately known as "Polly") has returned each year (minus one) to spend his summers at the cottage.  While he has no legal claim to the place because Millicent was his stepmother, it is a fine retreat for him and he is welcomed back by the family each time, especially now that he is separated from his wife.  The remainder of the year he is a professor of history, although he had once been on track to becoming a doctor, going to medical school but giving it up due to an issue with a  "tricky memory."  However, he still has his own syringe, with which he administers prescribed drugs in cases where the doctor cannot get to the estate quickly.   As the novel opens, he is awaiting the arrival of his young daughter  when he is summoned by estate manager MacDonald to the farmhouse to help with  MacDonald's very ill wife.  The doctor had relayed that Potter should give Mrs. MacDonald an injection immediately, since the wife had been found "wandering" when she should have been in bed.   Found dead on the floor, Mrs. MacDonald won't be needing Potter's help, Too late to be of any help, he makes his way to the Hall to break the news.  Her death had been a bit of a surprise, because she had seemed to be "mending," and Aunt Cora makes her way to the farmhouse where she knows she'll be needed.  Another death is on the horizon though when poor Uncle Humphrey is found drowned in his fish pond.  It seems that his death happened not too long after Paul, Millicent and Louisa had had a serious discussion about the two women's futures as relating to the estate and the trust.   But there is another surprise yet to come for the Onderdonk family:  young John Watson has made his way to Long Acre with plans of his own.  As the blurb for this novel states, it seems that "Change is in the air," and this change "brings with it -- death." 

1966 cover, from Between the Covers (with some editing) 

I absolutely loved Poor Harriet, which, although written over sixty years ago, still sadly has great relevance to our own time with its frank depiction of domestic abuse/violence against women and the tragedy of mental illness, made even more heartbreaking because in this particular case there is no help in sight.   The core mystery is nicely done as well; I eventually figured out the who but not until very close to the end.  Unlike most of the time when I guess the culprit, I didn't care about that  -- what captured me most was the depth of humanity Fenwick managed to infuse into the character of  "Poor Harriet."  Mysteries come and go but Harriet (and this book) I won't soon forget.   The Silent Cousin is also quite good; Like Poor Harriet, this novel  also has an intense, psychological depth to it, in this case examining the effects of the burdens people silently carry for those they love, even in situations that are destined to end in failure.   It also has a chilling ending and a reveal that I never saw coming.  

These books are two examples of the type of crime I love to read, with the author's intense psychological scrutiny of her characters at work in and around the mysteries that are there to be solved.  Fenwick was a wonderful writer, and I'll look forward to reading the three I have now, plus any of her work published in the future.   Do not let the publication dates of these novels deter you -- her subject matter is still highly relevant and she can weave a hell of a tale together, keeping you hanging until the last page is turned.  Recommended for mystery/crime readers of the period, as well as to readers who appreciate some truly good writing.  

My many thanks to Stark House for my advanced reading copy!!