MICHAEL COLLINS – Crime, Punishment, and Resurrection. PI Dan Fortune short stories. Donald I. Fine, hardcover, 1992. No paperback edition. Introduction by Sue Grafton.

   I’m not a big reader of short stories. It isn’t that I dislike them, it’s just that I like novels much more, and my time is sadly finite.

   I do like Michael Collins and Dan Fortune very much, and so couldn’t resist this. Two of the stories including the novella that closes the book are new, the rest (seven of them) reprinted from various magazines.

   The stories ranged in my estimation from barely adequate — “The Woman Who Ruined John Ireland” — to excellent — “The Big Rock Candy Mountain” and the novella, “Resurrection.” The latter is very nearly worth the price of the book. It is a grim and powerful story of a cult and its leader, written with all of Collins’ considerable skill.

   I am not sure, no, not sure at all, that there is a consistently better writer in the hardboiled field today than Michael Collins. Highly recommended.

DRACULA. Universal Pictures, 1979. Frank Langella (Count Dracula), Laurence Olivier (Professor Abraham Van Helsing), Donald Pleasence, Kate Nelligan, Trevor Eve, Jan Francis. Screenplay: W. D. Richter, based on a play by Hamilton Deane & John L. Balderston, based in turn on the novel by Bram Stoker. Music by John Williams. Director: John Badham.

   Although it’s been quite a while since I read Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897), there are quite a few aspects of the text that I remember quite well. Or at least I think I do. And not just plot points or vividly realized scenes such as when Dracula crawls down a wall. I’m talking about the work’s atmosphere, its sense of impending doom and sheer weirdness. Because let’s face it: >Dracula is an early example of modern weird fiction.

   Personally, I don’t think Stoker wrote the best vampire story ever told and I’ll leave it to you to decide which one you might think is the best. But I’ll readily admit that Stoker was remarkably effective in vividly describing a decidedly off-kilter world, one in which the notion of an undead Carpathian ruler haunting Victorian London doesn’t seem so far-fetched. Now, that’s an accomplishment and a testament to why Dracula is still read and appreciated to this very day.

   As far as film adaptations of Stoker’s novel go, I’m definitely of the opinion that the original Bela Lugosi version (1931) is the one I like the best (some people believe that the concurrent Spanish version is even better). To me, there’s something about Lugosi as Dracula that’s just so classic, so darn iconic that it’s difficult for me to fully imagine other actors stepping into the famed vampire’s shoes (or cape), though the late, great Christopher Lee comes pretty close.

   I remember watching Francis Ford Coppola’s 1992 version in the theater and didn’t come away super impressed. There were some great moments, to be sure, but it just seemed so lavish, so colorful that somehow I didn’t see it as a fully authentic realization of Stoker’s vision. Keanu Reeves, who I don’t dislike as an actor and who I thought was great in Speed (1994), didn’t seem to me to be an effective choice for the role of Jonathan Harker. And I don’t think I’m the only one.

   It was with this background that I finally got around to watching the 1979 film version, one that transports the entirety of the proceedings to England and is closest to the spirit, if not the story, of Stoker’s novel.

   Directed by John Badham, this one features Frank Langella as Dracula and Laurence Olivier as vampire hunter Abraham Van Helsing. Langella, it seems to me, is a fairly effective Dracula, particularly because the story played up the romantic and seductive aspect of the Dracula and Lucy relationship.

   Olivier, with a faux Dutch/Flemish accent, is an extraordinarily effective Van Helsing and really transforms the movie into a serene, melancholy operatic experience, one aided by John Williams’ hauntingly beautiful score. Olivier’s Van Helsing is a forlorn, world-weary warrior, someone who takes no pleasure in what he must do to stop Dracula.

   This version, which never garnered the same degree of critical attention as the original or Coppola’s version, is definitely worth watching for those who haven’t seen it. Also, for those who may have seen it decades ago and not again since then, it’s worth taking the time to rediscover how extraordinarily well this film holds up. It helps that, in this late 1970s version, Dracula crawls down a wall not once but twice. Chillingly sublime weirdness at its very best.

PETER CHAMBERS – Downbeat Kill. Abelard-Schuman, US, hardcover, 1964. First published in the UK by Robert Hale, hardcover, 1963.

   There was a time — this was long ago — when I thought there was somehow a connection between the author Peter Chambers, and the private eye character Peter Chambers whose adventures were told by Henry Kane. That the author Peter Chambers’s most frequently used character was also a PI (named Mark Preston) made such a connection all the more plausible. So so I thought.

   It turns out, as has been well known for many years now, that even though his character’s stories take place in California, Peter Chambers the author is as British as they come, and there is no connection to Henry Kane or his character whatsoever. Chambers’ real name is Dennis Phillips (1924-2006), and while having written only one crime novel under his own name, he wrote almost 40 as Chambers — most but not all with Preston — one as Simon Challis, five as Peter Chester, and thirteen as Philip Daniels.

   Very few of them have been reprinted in this country. Downbeat Kill is one of only eight of Preston’s cases to have been published over here. On the basis of this sample of size one, in spite of this overall rather sizable output of 36 in all, I find it really doubtful that I will find myself searching out any others.

   For one thing, Chambers (the author) has a totally tin ear when it comes to things Americana. This is the story of a universally disliked TV deejay whose death has been threatened, calling Preston in, His name is Donny Jingle (not his real one, though); the man works for a TV conglomerate called Amalgamated Inter-Coastal Television (or A.I.C.T. for short); and in a town called Monkton City, California. Worse, to my sense of hearing, every time Preston mentions his car by name, he calls it a Chev, but maybe that’s me.

   The case turns into murder when one of the go-fer guys working for Donny Jingle dies in a car bombing in his place. Preston digs up a lot of dirt as he investigates, but none of it is very interesting, and the ending is one big yawner.

   He doesn’t even make a big play for Donny Jingle’s personal secretary. Meh. This is one mediocre mystery at best.

H. ASHBROOK – The Murder of Stephen Kester. Coward-McCann, hardcover, 1931. Forthcoming from Resurrected Press, softcover, 2016.

GREEN EYES. Chesterfield, 1934. Charles Starrett, Shirley Grey, Claude Gillingwater, John Wray. Screenplay by Andrew Moss, based on The Murder of Stephen Kester by H. Ashbrook. Directed by Richard Thorpe.

   Until Resurrected Press began reissuing the novels of Harriette Cora Ashbrook (1898-1946) who wrote as H. Ashbrook and Susannah Shane, she was a virtually forgotten follower of the Philo Vance school of detective fiction that featured talented amateurs with connections and more than a little contempt for the authorities. As H. Ashbrook she wrote thirteen mysteries featuring Philip “Spike” Tracy and six as Shane about Christopher Saxe.

   The Murder of Stephen Kester is a Spike Tracy mystery. Tracy, the brother of New York District Attorney Richard Tracy (yup, Dick Tracy is his brother), is a layabout and playboy with a penchant for lolling about making wisecracks while either suffering a hangover or drinking, getting thrown in various jails for being drunk and disorderly, and brilliantly solving crimes.

   If that doesn’t sound like much of a recommendation it should be pointed out that Ashbrook writes well, the dialogue has a certain crackle, the wise cracks are fairly good, and the pace much better than usual for the Van Dine school.

   The plots and detection are workmanlike at best, no Ellery Queen here, and equally no Rex Stout with characters as fascinating as Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin, but still well above most of her competitors. As in many of the Van Dine school there is also a bit of social commentary thrown into the mix.

   The adjective that comes to mind is crisp.

   Here, wealthy Stephen Kester is murdered at a costume ball given by his granddaughter Jean. Numerous people attending have reason to kill the old man including Jean and her fiancé who have stolen money to elope, Kester’s manager/accountant with the high maintenance wife, the butler who calls the old man a Simon Legree, the housemaid who loves Jean and knows where the old man buried the bodies, and the mysterious Wall, who showed up and argued with Kester, but is staying at the house, and who Jean seems to know but can’t remember.

   Tracy sorts through the evidence and suspects, uncovers the truth despite being hindered by his brother and lunk-headed cop Inspector Hershman, and two murders later lets the killer escape by means of suicide in true Philo Vance fashion, though the spineless weasel killer in this one deserves no such grace.

   The film, renamed Green Eyes for no apparent reason other than a pair of glow-in-the-dark marbles that feature in the solution, stars Charles Starrett as Michael Tracy (no idea why Spike was dropped much less Philip), a writer who specializes in being a pain in the police posterior, and who has an admitted history of visiting various jails around the world for drunk and disorderly charges. He’s at the party when Kester is murdered and injects himself in the investigation by Captain Crofton and his version of Hershman, both of whom know Tracy.

   Why any of these changes were made is a greater mystery than the plot, but that’s Hollywood for you. Maybe they thought Tracy was more appealing as a total outsider and a bit more sober and collegiate. Maybe they didn’t want the public to make the Dick Tracy connection with the brother.

   At just a bit over an hour it moves well, Starrett makes a pretty good amateur sleuth even though it is a bit hard to imagine him dissolute in any way, and the plot doesn’t veer too significantly from the book. It’s a pleasant enough well made little mystery, and frankly better written and acted than any of the God awful Ellery Queen pictures from the same era. I wouldn’t have minded seeing Starrett in a second outing as Tracy.

   Read the book and see the film. Both are available, the book from Resurrected Press, and the movie on YouTube. Of the two the book offers more pleasures, but the movie looks and plays better than most of its type thanks to a good cast and Richard Thorpe’s direction.

   I have to say I was pleasantly surprised by both.

QUEEN OF SWORDS. Syndicated, 2000-2001. 22 episodes @ 60 minutes. Fireworks Entertainment (Canada)/ Global-Can West Company (Canada)/ Telefonica Media (Spain)/ Morena Films (Spain)/ Amy International (UK)/ M6 (France)/ Antena 3 (Spain). Tessie Santiago as Marie Teresa Alvarado. Anthony Lemke as Captain Marcus Grisham, Elsa Pataka as Vera Hidalgo. Peter Wingfield as Dr. Robert Helm, Paulina Galvez as Marta, Valentine Pelka as Colonel Luis Montoya, and Tacho Gonzalez as Don Gasper Hidalgo.

Executive Producers: David Abramowitz, Jay Firestone and Adam Haight. Co-Executive Producers: Simon MacCorkindale, Ira Bernstein, Alvaro Longoria and Juan Gordon. Supervising Producers: James Thorpe, Steve Roberts. Producers: Ken Gord, Troy Thatcher. Line Producer: Gerard Croce. Distributed in U.S. by Paramount Domestic Television in association with Mercury Entertainment (U.S.). Distributed internationally by Fireworks International.

   An oversimplified description of Queen of Swords would be Xena meets Zorro. Fortunately for TV producers an original premise is not required for entertaining television.

   A female Zorro was nothing new and the success of Xena: Warrior Princess (1995-2001) had lead to more series featuring female action heroes. Series such as Relic Hunter (1999-2002), Sheena (2000-2002), and Queen of Swords attempted but failed to duplicate Xena’s success in syndication.

   The opening episode “Destiny” sets up the premise and characters not unlike the usual origin story of Zorro.

“DESTINY.” 10/7/00. Written by James Thorpe Directed by Jon Cassar. Guest Cast: Enrique Rodriguez, Anthony De Longis and Teresa Del Olmo. *** It is 1817. While at school in Spain Tessa Alvarado learns of her father’s death back in Spanish California. She returns home to find her family Hacienda in ruins and about to be taken over by the ruthless power hungry Alcalde, Colonel Montoya. Times have changed since Tessa left Santa Helena.

   All of her family gone, the family servants reduced to stealing to eat, Tessa must find a way to save her home. A visit from the ghost of her father who had been murdered by leader of the guards Captain Grisham gives Tessa the courage to take up the blade against Montoya and his men, her mask comes from her dead mother’s shawl and her name Queen of Swords comes from the tarot card revealed by her female companion, the gypsy Marta.

   Swordmaster, stunt coordinator and actor Anthony De Longis (Highlander – the Series) wrote an online diary about his time working on Queen of Swords including the episode ‘Destiny.”

   De Longis writing is a researcher’s dream. His attention to the smallest details gives incredible insight to life working for the second unit on a syndicated action series of its era. He discusses some of the series pre-production work such as the two months star Tessie Santiago had to learn how to ride a horse and use a sword, rapier, dagger and whip.

   De Longis shares what it was like on location in Texas-Hollywood, Spain. He reveals bits of information such as each episode was filmed in seven days, why the soldiers’ uniforms were changed from red pants to blue (the red looked “too opera”), how stunts were performed and even the name of the horses including credits (The Queen’s main horse was Chico, Captain Grisham rode Montero the same horse Russell Crowe rode in Gladiator.)

   He also explained why the first episode to air “Destiny” was the third episode filmed (after “Death To The Queen” and “Vengeance”). It was so the multinational cast and crew could get experience working together before filming the origin story. It was a wise idea as “Destiny” sets the style and tone of the series well.

   Production values on Queen of Swords were high with better writing and direction than usual for syndicated TV series of the time. The acting was professional but nothing special. For more information about the cast visit here and those interested can find interviews with Tessie Santiago and Anthony Lemke here.

   The characters were simple and one dimensional with the good guys likable and the bad guys always worthy of booing. But for a heroic action adventure series such as Queen of Swords characters with little depth is a good thing.

   On the side of good was young beautiful Dona Maria Teresa “Tessa” Alvarado. In the tradition of too many heroes to name Tessa poses as a rich self absorbed Dona in the eyes of others while secretly donning the mask to fight for justice as the Queen of Swords. Her best friend/servant/companion since her childhood schooldays in Spain was Marta. Marta was a gypsy with mystical powers and the only one to know the identity of The Queen (of Swords).

   The villains were lead by the ruthless Colonel Montoya. Obsessed with his quest for riches and power, Montoya used any means necessary to get his way. He blackmailed his second in command Captain Grisham. Grisham was still wanted as an Army deserter who had escaped execution during the War of 1812. Grisham was the lover of the wife of Don Hidalgo.

   Senora Vera Hidalgo had married her husband for money. The young beautiful shallow woman enjoyed the excitement of cheating on her husband and playing spy for Grisham. The weak and cowardly Don Hidalgo represented the landowners in their dealings with Colonel Montoya.

   Trying not to take sides was the handsome brave Dr. Robert Helm. Haunted by his time serving in the British army as a soldier during the Napoleonic Wars Helm had become a Doctor dedicated to saving lives. A possible love interest for Tessa/The Queen but the Doctor disliked Tessa for her spoiled nature and the Queen for her use of violence.

“THE PACT.” 1/27/01. Written by Elizabeth Keyishian. Directed by Carlos Gil. Guest Cast: Jose Conde, Patrick Medioni and Pablo Scola. *** Vera tells Captain Grisham that the Dons have hidden a treasure from the greedy hands of Colonel Montoya. Rather than report it Grisham decides to find it for himself.

“TAKES A THIEF.” 5/12/01. Written by Elizabeth Keyishian. Directed by Paolo Barzman. Guest Cast: Darren Tighe, Ralf Moller and Miglen Mirtchev. *** Two thieves – a strongman and a conman – pass through town and learning of the reward offered for The Queen of Swords decide to capture her. When the Queen saves the life of strongman Roman he refuses to help his partner continue to try to capture the Queen. A romance develops between Roman and Tessa’s companion Maria.

   Queen of Swords was everything it wanted to be – a well produced, entertaining heroic action adventure. The series deserved a better fate.

   So what happened to the series? Why did it last just one season? The audience was loyal but small. The many Xena inspired syndicated series available at the time made it difficult for any one to stand out among the crowd. And the premise had begun to fade in popularity. Xena: Warrior Princess would end, as Queen of Swords, in 2001. Relic Hunter and Sheena would follow the next season.

   A peek at the credits above shows Queen of Swords was a multinational project. This allowed for bigger budgets, different locations than the American audience was used to, and advantages in the global market.

   The project began with Fireworks Entertainment (owned at the time by Global Can West). Fireworks Entertainment was a successful syndication company having produced such series as Gene Roddenberry’s Andromeda, La Femme Nikita, and Relic Hunter.

   Besides the normal costs of producing a TV series, Queen of Swords had the added financial burden of fighting two lawsuits. One was from Sony Pictures over the film rights to Zorro. In November 2001 the court ruled against Sony citing the Zorro character and Douglas Fairbanks copyright for film rights had expired and the character was in public domain.

   However, by then Queen of Swords had ended with the last episode airing May 30, 2001. Fireworks had moved on to its next project that premiered in syndication October 6, 2001 – Marvel’s Mutant X. (Fireworks would be sued by Fox claiming it had film rights to Marvel.)

   August 2000 writer Linda S. Lukens sued the series and creator-executive producer David Abramowitz (Jake and the Fatman, Highlander – the Series) claiming the series was based on a script she had written and sold to ABC when the two were with the same literary agency. Unlike Sony she won. In October 2000 Los Angeles Superior court Judge ordered the series to add an on screen credit for Lukens as series creator.

   Apparently Lukens received credit on the series version shown in the United States (starting with the second episode) but did not receive credit on the versions shown in other countries such as Japan and France. The episodes shown on YouTube have no credit for “created by.”

   Nothing about Queen of Swords is simple except the plots and characters. The Queen of Swords fan website The Presidio added another name to those responsible for the series creation. It claims Queen co-executive producer Ira Bernstein (Relic Hunter) developed the series and sites producer Ken Gord (Highlander – the Series, Relic Hunter) as its source.

   Finally, for even more details and information about the series and its availability on home media (no DVD Region 1) I recommend the better than average Wikipedia page devoted to Queen of Swords.

HENRY KANE – Until You Are Dead. Simon & Schuster, hardcover, 1951. Dell #580, paperback, 1952. Signet S1835, paperback, August 1960.

   Of author Henry Kane’s prodigious output of over 60 novels, about half of them featured PI Peter Chambers as the main protagonist. Until You Are Dead is the first of them I’ve read in several years, and it took me a while to get used to his writing style, a combination of quick patter and a uniquely quirky view of the world. Whether that POV was Chambers’ or Kane himself, I do not know.

   The story has to do with a jazz musician’s attempt to cut a deal with a mob boss whom he saw kill a man in a night club men’s room. Said jazz musician ends up dead, and it is up to Chambers to find out who and why, even though he doesn’t have a client. Not right away anyway.

   Chambers, a guy with an eye for the ladies as he goes, both fires and misfires on the case, which is a medium-boiled affair with a modicum of actual detective work. A potboiler, perhaps, but all in all, once I was in sync with Kane’s style, an interesting and in its own way, an enjoyable reading experience.

   Some examples thereof. From pages 85 and 86 of the Signet paperback:

   Switching gears on a dime and continuing on, from pages 86 and 87:

MORE DEAD THAN ALIVE. United Artists, 1969. Clint Walker, Vincent Price, Anne Francis, Paul Hampton, Craig Littler, Mike Henry. Written by George Schenck. Directed by Robert Sparr.

   In the wisdom of my advancing years I find myself wondering more and more where films like this come from. At the tail end of the “Spaghetti Western” cycle this film appears, written and directed by talents completely undistinguished, yet brought off with style and imagination, carried through by a well-used cast.

   Perhaps I should have said “almost completely undistinguished;” the cinematographer here was Jack Marquette, who worked in the B-movie sub-basement back in its 50s/60s hey-day, with films like Attack of the 50 Foot Woman and Creature from.jpg the Haunted Sea to his credit, and he does serviceable work here. But to get back to the Movie, as they say:

   Clint Walker stars as Cain (aka:“Killer Cain”) a notorious gunman with twelve notches on his pistol, released from Prison after an 18-year stretch… possibly for thwarting bad-guy Mike Henry’s effort to spring his brother from jail in a bloody but abortive break-out attempt.

   At any rate, Cain finds himself at loose ends in a society that has moved past him, much like the aging lawmen in Ride the High Country, periodically tormented by the sadistic Mike Henry and unable to find a steady job because of his reputation. Like Randolph Scott in Country, he settles uncomfortably into employment in a shabby Wild West show run by Vincent Price (a marvelous performance) where his notoriety brings him dubious stardom.

   It also brings him into conflict with the show’s former star (Paul Hampton, of whom more later) a superior gun-artist now reduced to supporting-player status. The movie becomes an interesting study of the three-way relationship between Walker, Price and Hampton, with Walker’s easy assurance matched perfectly by Price’s show-biz savvy while Hampton knocks himself out on the sidelines like a moth batting into a light bulb, torn between jealousy and hero-worship.

   Writer Schenck also throws in Anne Francis, every bit as bewitching as she was back when she sported about on the Forbidden Planet, and Craig Littler as a good-humored young attorney dogging Walker’s footsteps like a benevolent counterpart to Mike Henry’s outlaw. Things run to a surprise finish after a satisfying set-to between Walker and Henry—two screen antagonists who seem perfectly matched against each other.

   But I should put in a word here about Paul Hampton as the would-be gunslinger: his performance has come in for a lot of ridicule — I particularly like the reviewer who called him the Ultimate Method Actor — but I find his playing energetic and daring. Equal parts James Dean and Leo Gorcey, he agitates, cries, and visibly deflates as the part requires, and his scene with Mike Henry is incredibly visceral.

   One thing puzzles me, though: according to Wikipedia, Paul Hampton is a highly-regarded singer and composer, but the only actual credit I can find for him is as the writer/performer of My Mother the Car. So either I’m missing something important or it’s pretty easy to be “highly regarded” in the Music Industry.

   Hey, maybe I should give it a try….
   

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THE WOMAN IN GREEN. Universal Pictures, 1945. Basil Rathbone, Nigel Bruce, Hillary Brooke, Henry Daniell, Paul Cavanagh, Matthew Boulton. Screenplay by Bertram Millhauser, based on characters created by Arthur Conan Doyle. Director: Roy William Neill.

   Forget the title, which as it turns out has little relation to the story, and just appreciate the movie. For this entry in the Sherlock Holmes film series in which Basil Rathbone portrayed the famed sleuth is an altogether enjoyable movie watching experience, even if the crimes referenced to in this film are particularly grisly.

   Directed by Roy William Neill, The Woman in Green has it all: a series of unsolved murders, hypnosis, a formidable villain in Professor Moriarty (Henry Daniell), and naturally for this Holmes film series, a bumbling, but ever-so-charming Dr. Watson portrayed by Nigel Bruce.

   The story, as it turns out, isn’t nearly as interesting as it might have been. In many ways, the setup is far more formidable than the eventual payoff (no spoilers here). But that doesn’t end up mattering, as it’s the characters and the dialogue that propel the movie forward. Seeing Holmes and Watson in action, not to mention Holmes facing off against Moriarty, is a sheer delight.

   But back to the plot: Scotland Yard is baffled by what they’ve encountered; namely, a series of brutal Jack the Ripper style murders all over London. Making matters worse – and far more grotesque – is the fact that all of the victims have had one finger severed. Who took the fingers? And who committed these horrific crimes?

   That’s where Holmes comes in. From the get go, he thinks that the authorities aren’t necessarily dealing with Jack the Ripper Part II, but that there’s something even more nefarious going on. But what could it be? And what is Moriarty’s role in all this, especially given that he was presumed dead? All I can say is, tune in to find out!

RAOUL WHITFIELD – Jo Gar’s Casebook. Crippen & Landru, hardcover/softcover, 2002.

   Originally published in the pages of Black Mask by Whitfield writing under the pen name of Ramon Decolta, the eighteen stories featuring the “little island detective” Joe Gar are selected from the 24 stories that were published in the pulp magazine and include the final two stories published (as by Raoul Whitfield) in Cosmopolitan.

   Jo Gar is a private investigator in the Philippines, intelligent (he speaks at least six languages), and always outperforming the police. He was, at one time, a member of the Manila police force, and he has retained his friendship with Lieutenant Juan Arragon, although that friendship is now tempered with a certain wariness on Arragon’s part.

   When Arragon is killed, his replacement, Sadi Ratan, is no friend of Gar’s, treating him with s measure of hatred and contempt even though Gar always proves him to be wrong. (Or, possibly, because Gar always shows him up.) When Ratan, perhaps half-joking, proposes that he should join Gar in his private agency, Gar’s polite, but telling reply, is that he fears that “the loss to the Force would be too great, Lieutenant.”

   Gar is a man of few words, an observant and reticent investigator, who moves quietly through these colorful tales, eventually resolving his cases in ways that show a deep understanding of human character and the class relationships that figure so prominently in the island’s multi-ethnic composition.

   Another fine contribution to the publisher’s growing, and impressive, list of short-story collections. This volume also includes abridged reprints of essays by E. R. Hagemann on Whitfield and his work that appeared originally in The Armchair Detective, with “A Remembrance of E. R. Hagemann,” an afterword by R. H. Miller.

   There are, in addition, bibliographic data on the publication history of the stories used in the collection as well as Hagemann’s “Annotated Bibliography of the Works of Raoul F. Whitfield Appearing in Black Mask,” updated with additional notes by Tom Roberts and Peter Ruber.

FRANCES FLETCHER – The Murder Sonata. Leisure Books, paperback original, 1980.

   Milton Schring sat in the solo chair of the symphony orchestra in an unnamed city. As well he should, since he was an immensely talented musician. Unfortunately, his private life is not exemplary, and after one performance — musical, though he was waiting to take part in another kind — he is found dead backstage.

   Interesting information here about symphony orchestras, their sponsors, their labor problems, and their individual members’ egos. Otherwise, not fair play and merely average in characterization and writing. “Damsel in distress” would sum it up.

Bibliographic Note:   This will be brief. This is the only book in Hubin by Frances Fletcher, about whom nothing is known.