GERALD PETIEVICH – Money Men and One-Shot Deal.

Harcourt Brace, hardcover, 1981. Money Men: published separately in paperback by Pinnacle, 1982; Signet, 1991. One-Shot Deal published separately in paperback by Pinnacle, 1983; Signet, 1991. Film (based on Money Men): Warner Bros., 1993, as Boiling Point.

   These two short novels are printed in one volume and are Petievich’s first published fiction. He is a former member of the U.S. Army Intelligence Corps, and later was a special agent of the U.S. Secret Service assigned to counterfeit investigations. He knows intimately the subject he’s chosen for fiction, and that’s what makes these novels work so well.

   Both novels feature Treasury agent Charles Carr. In Money Men he is after the man who shot to death another agent in a motel room that Carr had bugged. Not only do Carr and his partner, Jack Kelly, suffer the agony of listening to their fellow agent being murdered while they are too far away to help, they also must bear the brunt of the responsibility for the tragic operation.

   Carr is going to be transferred, most likely to a desk job, but he talks his superior into giving him a few weeks before the move and he uses that time to stalk the agent’s killer.

   Carr and Kelly work against the clock as they slowly close in on a con man named Red Diamond and his young cohort Ronnie Boyce. The setting is Los Angeles, the action fast, the plot tight, all written in a style that smacks hard of realism.

   Washington, D.C., as well as Los Angeles is the setting for One-Shot Deal. This novel is the more ambitious of the two, and probably the best.

   Here Carr is set on the trail of someone who has engineered the theft of government security paper from the U.S. Bureau of Engraving and Printing, the special kind of paper used to print money.

   The someone is a fascinating villain named Larry Phillips, an ex-con who is a skilled hypnotist and runs with beautiful blond prostitute Melba, a woman who is literally under his spell. The story is intricately plotted and builds in suspense to a satisfying conclusion.

   Both novels are written in a direct, uncompromising style that establishes a tough authenticity. The dialogue is hard-edged and street-wise, and the knowing attention to detail lends a stark reality that only an insider can bring to this kind of fiction. Money Men and One-Shot Deal are both lean, mean, and entertaining.

   Other Petievich novels are To Live and Die in Beverly Hills (1983), To Live and Die in L.A. (1984), and The Quality of the Informant (1985).

         ———
   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

ANTHONY WYNNE – Death of a Banker.   Hutchinson & Co., UK, hardcover, 1934.  J. B. Lippincott, US, hc, 1934.

   Anthony Wynne’s Death of a Banker begins with the titular character done in on horseback in the middle of a field before the eyes of an assembled throng — a variation of the locked room.

   The investigation hardly begun, Mr. Wynne’s series character, Dr. Eustace Hailey, and a member of the official force he drags along for company have their attention distracted from the crime by the necessity to extract a member of foreign royalty from the clutches of a character wearing a sign saying “villain.”

   For some reason, the prince prefers present company. The two duos chase each other over land and sea, on occasion the good guys are kidnapped, and there are numerous “confrontations,” which all parties use to call each other names and catch their breath before the chase resumes.

   The allotted number of pages being written, Dr. Hailey pulls the solution (a good one) out of his hat; Scotland Yard agrees to cover up the prince’s guilt (Who else? The choices for least likely person are few; between two characters, one of whom is referred to as “blackguard” on every page); and Mr. Villain meets the end we have been so eagerly awaiting.

   Mr. Wynne’s “The Cyprian Bees,” also featuring Dr. Hailey, is a good short story, but I immediately disposed of all his novels I owned.

   I received some sad news this morning. John Wright, a mystery writer living in South Africa whom I interviewed here on the blog back in February 2007, has passed away.

   That post included a complete bibliography of his mystery fiction, and of course I hope you’ll go back and read the entire interview. In it we also touched on several of his other achievements, including a life-long interest in old-time radio and early comic book fandom.

   It’s been a while since I heard from him, but some good news he was able to pass along is that several of the PI novels he wrote as Wade Wright have recently been reprinted by Ramble House.

   Here’s the email I received today:

Dear Friends,

It is with a sad heart that I give you the news of John passing away on Friday the 14th at 3 AM.

He had been in hospital for the last week and I had prepared everything for him to come home as the Doctor was of the opinion that though he would be bedridden, I would be able to nurse him at home with some assistance. The Lord knew best and took him home as he was in a lot of pain and discomfort.

Your friendship over the years has meant a great deal to John, and I know we have all lost someone of great worth. Someone, who has touched our lives in so many ways and will be deeply missed.

The funeral service is to be held at St Marks on Wednesday the 19th at 11 AM, and though you can not be here your thoughts and prayers can be with him as we say our last farewell until we meet again.

   God Bless.

      Love Coral

   I’m glad you did your recent post on Ross Macdonald because this reminded me that it was important for me to reread some of his outstanding novels.

   Speaking of rereading, I know you have run across novels like I have where you know that you have read the book a few years ago, or sometimes only a few months ago, but cannot recall anything at all about it.

   Usually this means there was nothing outstanding about the story, just a mediocre reading experience that you eventually forget. To prevent myself from rereading these type of bland novels, I put a note in the book or magazine listing the date, my comments and a grade.

   But yesterday I was reading a Day Keene novelet of about 15 pages in the June 1946 issue of Detective Tales, titled “If a Body Meets a Body.” I recognized every character and plot turn in the story but there was no note indicating that I had read it.

   Needless to say, this was a mystery I had to solve because I never forget to rate and comment on a story. Digging through my Day Keene books I stumbled across a Hard Case Crime paperback titled, Home Is the Sailor.

   Mystery solved. I’d read the novel in October 2006 and now realize that the June 1946 novelet was expanded into the original 1952 Gold Medal novel. Both stories using the basic same plot but I had found the full length novel to be ok but nothing special.

   However, the novelet was outstanding at 15 pages. Just another example of how expanding a story sometimes is not a good idea. But I guess Keene got the usual couple thousand dollars advance for the full length expansion.

   Despite my opinion of the novel as being mediocre, I somehow managed to remember the plot two years later. Maybe there is hope for our memories after all!

   By the way, the above might generate some discussion among your readers about rereading, memory, Day Keene, rating novels, etc. Feel free to post it to Mystery*File if you wish.

[EDITORIAL COMMENT]   For more on Day Keene, including a complete bibliography of both his novels and all of his known pulp fiction, check out this page on the main Mystery*File website, beginning with the Gold Medal column about Keene that Bill Crider did for M*F back when it was a print zine.

   As for rereading mystery novels, I do try, but I own so many of them, it’s tough to put reading one a second time before reading others for the first time. In cases like Ross Macdonald, Rex Stout, John Dickson Carr, Agatha Christie and Raymond Chandler, I do make exceptions!

   I’ve written reviews of almost everything I’ve read since the mid-1970s, although some of the early ones are only short notes to myself, like Walker’s, and you won’t ever see them posted on here on the blog. The primary reason I’ve done this, I think, so that I do remember the story lines. I’ve discovered that if I don’t write a review of a book or a movie, I forget almost everything about it.

   I admire people who can describe in detail either a book or a movie they’re read or seen many years before. Not me. If I don’t write a review right away, forget it. Or at least I do! They’re gone.

   This “lack of memory” property does help when rereading a detective novel, though. I almost never remember who did it. (Except for that Roger Ackroyd novel….)

LARRY KARP – The Midnight Special.

Worldwide; reprint paperback, August 2002. Hardcover edition: Write Way, March 2001.

   This is the third in a series of Dr. Thomas Purdue’s mystery adventures, and the first that I’ve read. He’s a medical doctor, but the criminal element in the stories doesn’t enter in from that end of things, as you might immediately suspect, but from his passion for the collecting and repairing of antique music boxes, which also seems to make cash registers start ringing in the minds of some rather nasty people. (It’s also a lot more interesting than hospital misbehavior, or at least it is to me.)

   His wife Sarah, as wives are generally supposed to be, is barely tolerant of both the collecting and the murder cases in which he seems to find himself involved. The rest of his circle of friends are either dealers, craftsmen or fellow collectors — all of whose idiosyncrasies are guaranteed to give mystery fans a nice warm, comfortable glow inside, as they identify more and more with their own personal obsessions as the book goes on.

   This particular case centers around a valuable, perhaps one-of-a-kind six-cylinder plerodienique-revolver box, circa 1875, and no, I had no idea what that might have been before I read this book. (But see the cover of the hardcover edition below.) Nor did I follow all of the details of the various machinations the thieves, con men and killers in this book went to in order to obtain it.

   What I found more interesting, I have to admit, were Dr. Purdue’s attempts to deal simultaneously with his friend Emma’s depression, resulting from a dehabilitating stroke, and the rehabilitation of his newly found assistant Jitters, whom he meets for the first time while the latter is attempting a daring skylight break-in at the doctor’s apartment.

   Purdue’s joyous approach to life is at once enjoyable, contagious and fun to read, which makes the dark clouds stand out in all the more as rolling in they come, inevitably, or so it seems. Not a prize-winner by any standard, I suppose, but all in all, nicely done.

   Bibliographic data:   [mystery fiction only]

      The Music Box Mystery series:

The Music Box Murders. Write Way, 1999; Worldwide, 2000.
Scamming the Birdman. Write Way, 2000; Worldwide, 2001.
The Midnight Special. Write Way, 2001; Worldwide 2002.

      The Ragtime Mystery series:

The Ragtime Kid. Poisoned Pen Press, 2006; trade PB: 2008.

The King of Ragtime. Poisoned Pen Press, 2008.
Book 3, forthcoming.

   *** For a complete list of this week’s Forgotten Books, go here on Patti Abbott’s blog.

HERMAN PETERSEN – Old Bones.

Duell, Sloan & Pearce, hardcover, 1943. Paperback reprint: Dell 127, 1947 [mapback edition].

   Herman Petersen was a prolific contributor to the aviation, adventure, and detective pulps of the Twenties and Thirties; one of his stories appears in the famous “Ku Klux Klan Number” of Black Mask (June 1, 1923). Between 1940 and 1943, he published four crime novels advertised by the publisher of three of them, Duell, Sloan & Pearce, as “quietly sinister mysteries with a rural background.”

   All four are set in an unnamed county in an unspecified part of the country (presumably upstate New York, Petersen’s home base). Three feature a team of more or less amateur sleuths: old Doc Miller, the county coroner; Paul Burns, the D.A.; and the narrator, Ben Wayne, a gentleman farmer. Miller does most of the sleuthing, Burns most of the worrying, and Wayne most of the leg work.

   Old Bones, the last and nominally best of the Doc Miller books, begins with the discovery — by Wayne’s wife, Marian — of a jumble of old bones wedged into the bottom of a standpipe at an abandoned gristmill.

   Before the authorities can remove them, someone else gets there first and tries unsuccessfully to hide them. Doc Miller’s eventual examination and investigation reveal that the bones are those of Nathaniel Wight, a black-sheep member of the district’s leading family; that he died of a crushed skull; and that he has evidently been dead for five years — ever since the night he was banished by old Aunt She, eldest and most imperious of the Wights, who believed he had seduced his cousin Amelia.

   It soon becomes apparent that someone in the Wight family, or someone close to it — perhaps more than one person — is willing to go to any lengths to keep the truth about Nate’s death from surfacing along with his bones.

   Much of the action takes place at or near the mill, and in the swamp that separates it from the Waynes’ farm, known as Dark House. In one harrowing episode, Wayne nearly drowns inside the standpipe; in another he is attacked in the mill loft and superficially stabbed.

   A second murder, the actions of a transient who has been bothering women in the area, a nightmarish stormy-night chase through the swamp on the trail of a kidnapped girl, and a tense and fiery conclusion are some of the other highlights.

   Old Bones drips atmosphere and understated menace. Its mystery is well constructed, with some legitimate detection on Doc Miller’s part; there is a nice sense of realism in the characters; and the touches of folksy humor are adroitly handled.

   The novel does have its flaws: We are told almost nothing about the backgrounds and private lives of the protagonists, people we want to know better; the solution to the mystery comes a little too easily and quickly; and more could have been done with the final confrontation. But the pluses here far outweigh the minuses. This and Petersen’s other servings of fictional Americana are well worth tracking down.

   Doc Miller, Paul Bums, and the Waynes are also featured in Murder in the Making (1940) and Murder R.F.D. (1942). The D.A ‘s Daughter (1943) also has a rural setting and emphasizes comedy along with murder and mischief.

   Petersen’s only other mystery novel, “The House in the Wilderness,” was published serially in 1957 and did not see book publication.

         ———
   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

DENISE DANKS – Phreak.

Orion, UK, paperback reprint, 1999; reissued 2001. Hardcover edition: Gollancz, UK, 1998. No US edition.

   Big cities in England in today’s mass computer and telecommunication age are no longer very much like what they were like in Agatha Christie’s day (to pick an obvious example) and hard-bitten investigative journalist Georgina Powers might well be the most complete antithesis of Miss Marple (to pick another) I think you can find.

   Miss Marple was a pretty sharp lady, and there were quite a few secrets in rural English villages that she was aware of, but in her wildest imagination, I just don’t think there’s any way she could have foreseen anything as hard on the senses as this.

   A world of neon lights, computer hackers and phone phreakers, booze and dope, dingy buildings and easy sex, that is; a London teeming with Asians, informants and other unsavory and often unkempt individuals operating “at the edge of the post-modern world.” Without much warning, it’s like stepping into the science-fictional world of a Philip K. Dick, except that his worlds were often only props, and this is real.

   The first death of that of a young Muslim phone hacker Georgina had been cultivating for a story. His T-shirt has her lipstick on it, making the police as interested in her as they are in finding the killer.

   Since this is fifth Mrs. Powers novel, it takes some time to catch up with all of her friends and acquaintances. Other than that, there’s no need to ask questions. It’s sit back and go along for the ride time, and perhaps take a shower afterward. This is Raymond Chandler territory, without a doubt. Chandler is far the better writer, but Ms. Danks’ streets are darker and meaner, and the edges, if possible, are even sharper.

   Not for everyone’s taste, but if you’re a fan, say, of the SFnal cyberpunk movement, here’s a mystery novel that’s very much in sync.

Bibliographic data:    [Expanded from Crime Fiction IV, by Allen J. Hubin.]

  DANKS, DENISE. Journalist and screenwriter living in London.

         Georgina Powers series:

   1. The Pizza House Crash. Futura, UK, paperback, 1989. Published in the US as User Deadly, St. Martin’s, hardcover, 1992.

   2. Better Off Dead. Macdonald, UK, hc, 1991.
   3. Frame Grabber. Constable, UK, hc, 1992; St. Martin’s, US, hc, 1993.
   4. Wink a Hopeful Eye. Macmillan, UK, hc; St. Martin’s, US, hc, 1994.
   5. Phreak. Gollancz, UK, hc, 1998.
   6. Torso. Gollancz, UK, hc, 1999.

   7. Baby Love. Gollancz, UK, hc, 2001.

   All of the books have been reprinted in the UK as Orion paperbacks.

[UPDATE] 11-12-08. Noting that the last book in the series came out in 2001, one wonders what has happened to Denise Danks’ career, and what she has been doing in the past seven years. If anyone can say, please let us know.

ROSS MACDONALD – The Drowning Pool.

Bantam, paperback reprint; movie tie-in edition, 1970s. Hardcover first edition: Alfred A. Knopf, 1950. Many reprint editions, both hardcover and soft.

   I wasn’t thinking very much about it, so when I picked this book up and started to read, I found myself caught up in a small time warp, which caught me by surprise, but it was one of my own making.

   I’ll explain.

   On both covers, front and back, there are a dozen or more color shots taken from the movie, released in 1975. Lots of photos of Paul Newman, in other words, in all kinds of situations, plus a handful more with Joanne Woodward in them — all rather tiny, but the immediate effect was to put me in a mellow 70s sort of mood, when both Paul and Joanne were much younger, and so was I.

   So when I hit page 9, where Lew Archer stops at one of those old-fashioned motor courts that consists of small cottages that the owner walks you down to and lets you inspect the accommodations before you register, it was jarring, and it immediately sent me back to the copyright page only to discover that — whoa! — the book came out in 1950.

   It wasn’t a 1970s book, at all. (And it took only a little more effort to look up the fact that The Drowning Pool was only the second novel that Archer appeared in; the first was The Moving Target, from 1949. Where does the time go?)

   We don’t learn a whole lot about Archer’s background in this book. Previously married and now separated, or perhaps more likely, divorced, that’s about all we learn about him — except for his strong standards of right and wrong. Beware to the client who hires him and changes her mind. Once hired to do a job — in this case, to discover who sent a woman with an already shaky marriage a letter that threatens to tell all — he’s in it to the end.

   Beginning with a marriage on the rocks, Archer’s slow but methodical investigation expands to include a daughter who at 15 is too young to attract the such serious intentions from the family chauffeur; her grandmother, the matriarch of the family; a police chief who is obviously smitten with Archer’s client; a weak-kneed husband who never had to work a day in his life; and oil — which means money, trouble, and murder.

   It’s a complex case, laid out by Macdonald in simple fashion. It would have been easy to make a tangled mess of the various threads of the plot darting here and there — Archer is on the road a lot, and in serious trouble more than once — but the telling is clean, straight-forward, and filled with enough picturesque similes and metaphors to fill a book.

   Here are just a few — I can’t resist:

   Page 77:   “For an instant I was the man in the [distorted] mirror, the shadow-figure without a life of his own who peered with one large eye and one small eye through dirty glass at the dirty lives of people in a very dirty world.”

   Page 79:   [talking to a very young prostitute] “Her breasts were pointed like a dilemma. I pushed on past.”

   Page 82:   “[Graham] Court was a row of decaying shacks bent around a strip of withering grass. A worn gravel drive brought the world to their broken-down doorsteps, if the world was interested. A few of the shacks leaked light through chinks in their warped frame sides. [The office] looked abandoned, as if the proprietor had given up for good.”

   Right now I don’t remember much of the movie, whether it followed the book very well or not, but either way, I think I’ll always have Paul Newman in mind when I read any of the Archer books. This one is a good one, and while all the clues point one way, except for one or two puzzling gaps, which — as it turns out — are nothing to be concerned about. Macdonald knew what he was doing, and any loose ends are firmly nailed down, solidly, to perfection, and with no seams showing.

FREEMAN WILLS CROFTS – The Hog’s Back Mystery. Hodder & Stoughton, UK, hardcover, 1933. Paperback reprint: Pan #52, 1948. Trade paperback: House of Stratus, 2000. US title: The Strange Case of Dr. Earle, Dodd Mead & Co., hardcover, 1933.

   Three mysterious disappearances from homes arrayed around the ridge formation known as the hog’s back? Sounds like a case for Inspector (soon to be Chief Inspector, on the strength of this case) French!

   One of Crofts’ most praised books yet one of the hardest to find (it’s a little more available under its clunky American title, The Strange Case of Dr. Earle), it’s a book for the true Crofts’ devotee, with a solution hanging mostly on locations, movements and alibis.

   There’s something intriguing about those multiple disappearances of seemingly blameless people, however; and the way French goes about solving the case, with no nonsense about love interest and such, also has interest.

   Crofts provides a little human interest in the beginning; but by the time of the final disappearance, he leaves off with the personal element and concentrates on French’s investigation, which is probably just as well with this author.

   Nor are there any of those foreign trips, something Crofts so loved to detail, with the action being confined within a narrow compass. A small-scale work, but very much the sort of thing Crofts does so well, for people who like Crofts.

   Historical note: John Rhode published the somewhat similar The Venner Crime the same year (though it depends characteristically on science rather than alibis). More I won’t say, except to ask, do great detective novelist minds think alike?

THOMAS PERRY – Metzger’s Dog.

Charles Scribner’s Sons, hardcover, 1983. Paperback reprint: Charter, 1984. Trade paperback: Random House, 2003.

   This is a joyous romp of a thriller featuring the funniest band of brigands since Donald E. Westlake’s Dortmunder gang. While pulling a routine caper — a small matter involving a million dollars’ worth of cocaine — the gang inadvertently comes into possession of a Toyota-size dog and a worthless-looking manuscript.

   Immelmann, Kepler, Chinese Gordon, and Margaret the moll keep the surly canine only because Gordon’s cat, Dr. Henry Metzger, takes a fancy to it. The manuscript is more promising — it’s about psychological warfare, and they figure the CIA will pay plenty to get it back.

   A deal is struck, but the public servants of this great nation prove untrustworthy. Double-crossed, the tiny gang of four decides to teach the mighty CIA a lesson it’ll never forget. And then the real fun begins.

   Besides having one of the smartest mouths in the West, Chinese Gordon can think of dazzling plans on a moment’s notice. His revenge plot is a dandy; even the CIA’s ruthless Ben Porterfield, (“a man who had eaten armadillo. That said it all.”) can’t keep up with him. In fact, he can seemingly be outsmarted by only one being on earth — his own cat, Dr. Henry Metzger.

   A dynamite read-the plot is ingenious, the dialogue terrific, and the comedy wild and wacky.

   Perry’s previous book, The Butcher’s Boy, is totally different from this one — a tense thriller about an assassin and the government worker who must apprehend him; it won the MWA Edgar for Best First Novel of 1982. His latest title is Big Fish (1985).

         ———
   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.