HOLMAN DAY – Clothes Make the Pirate. Harper & Brothers, hardcover, 1925. Grossett & Dunlap, hardcover, Photoplay edition.  Silent film: First National, 1925, starring Leon Errol and Dorothy Gish.

   I pause to appreciate the oddities of this world as I reflect that a book nearly a hundred years old turned up at Hussey’s General Store in Maine.

   Author Day alleges to have based his tale on an obscure historical record to the effect that the town of Pemaquid Maine was sacked sometime around 1770 by a Pirate known as Dixy Bull, who appears to have sailed off into the fog of History shortly thereafter.

   From this meager shard he fashioned a tale that would have made a fine vehicle for Bob Hope: The story of meek tailor Tidd in pre-revolution Boston, whose parents saddled him with the Christian name of Tremble-at-Evil, which seems to have fit him nicely, for he is henpecked at home, derided by his debtors, and pointedly ignored by his niece’s Redcoat paramour.

   Browbeaten by Boston, Tidd takes spiritual refuge in reading and re-reading an escapist epic, The Buccaneers of the Spanish Maine.  Indeed, his escapism has grown to the point where he has fashioned himself a suitably piratical outfit, purchased second-hand broadsword and cutlass, and practiced glowering in front of the mirror like a truly fearsome corsair.

   You’ve guessed where all this is headed. In short order, Tidd is mistaken for the notorious pirate captain Dixy Bull and finds himself in dubious command of a band of cut-throats on the high seas (well the coast of New England, actually, but High Seas sounds more romantic, don’t you think?)

   Holman Day takes an enjoyably light-hearted view of all this, and while Clothes is seldom actually funny, it is always consistently entertaining, especially as he winds up his story with the appearance of the actual Dixy Bull, thirsting for the blood of his impostor. Like I say, it would have made a fine vehicle for Bob Hope!

         Back then: January 1968. I said:

BRUNO FISCHER “Deadlier Than the Male.” Novelette. Published in Dime Mystery Magazine, May 1945. A soldier’s buddy comes home from the war to check on his friend’s wife, who seems to have changed. Murder welcomes him at the door. Fairly obvious ending. (2)

         Now:

   While on furlough and with his buddy is still off fighting the war in Germany, Sgt. Peter Cole visits his friend’s wife, whose letters to him have become fewer and fewer, and what’s worse, less passionate. The woman who greets him is beautiful and outwardly caring, but Cole senses something is off.

   Hearing a small noise in the bedroom and his suspicions aroused, he forcibly decides to check it out. What he does not expect is to find is a dead man in a closet. Knocked unconscious almost immediately, the next thing he knows is being woken up by a cop in the alley behind his friend’s wife’s apartment. Both of them head back in, but of course the body is missing.

   It’s a good opening, and Fischer always had a good way with words, so this one starts out with a lot of promise. But sometimes the openings of stories by even good authors fail to fulfill early expectations, and such is the case here. What follows is a decent enough detective story, but it runs a little too complicated, and what Fischer failed to do is make it interesting as well. I wish I could say otherwise, but there were no sparks in this one for me.

Rating: 2 stars.

JOHN D. MacDONALD – The Drowner. Gold Medal k1302, paperback original, 1963. Reprinted several times.

   Paul Stanial, private investigator, is hired to investigate the drowning of a young, fit woman in a lake. The authorities have determined that it’s an accidental drowning. But her family doesn’t buy it.

   Stanial focuses his investigation on the drowner’s love interests: her rich playboy husband, from whom she is estranged; and her current boyfriend, a rich middle aged land developer currently facing tax fraud charges.

   MacDonald is masterful at altering his dialogue to fit the speaker. Obviously a bible thumper doesn’t talk the same as an unrepentant redneck. But you wouldn’t know it from many of the novels out there. With MacDonald he’s got the patter down. The dialogue rings true.

   About halfway thru the novel, the meaning of title changes from ‘the drowner’ as victim to ‘the drowner’ as the perp, as Stanial closes in on the suspect.

   It’s quite good. Maybe my second favorite MacDonald next to Soft Touch — another one where the meaning of the title horrifically shifts in the course of the book.

DENNIS LEHANE – Darkness, Take My Hand. Patrick Kenzie & Angela Gennaro #2. Morrow, hardcover, 1996. Avon, paperback, 1997.

   Lehane won a well deserved First Novel Shamus from the PWA for 1994’s A Drink Before the War, though the book didn’t even make the Edgar short list. Why are we not surprised?

   It seemed relatively innocent. A friend of Kenzie’s had a friend with a son she was afraid was being stalked by someone who meant him ill, and she wanted them to allay her fears. Then someone got killed in a particularly messy way, and the modus operandi matched that of a  crime more than a decade old, whose perpetrator was still in prison.

   That wasn’t the last of the bloody, perverse deaths, and yes, it all turned out to be connected. Everything that either Kenzie or Gennaro held dear would be threatened and damaged before the twisted skein was unraveled.

   Darkness, I guess so. This makes his previous book seem like a fairy tale. Well, maybe not quite, but it’s tougher than the back end of a shooting gallery. Don’t read it if you’re depressed, because the pain and bloodshed are, or seemed, unrelenting.

   Lehane did not fail of the promise of his first book in terms of writing, though this is an excellently written book.  You know I don’t like serial killers, and I’m not too crazy about cowboy PIs, and there’s both here, and that tells you something about how good a job Lehane did.

   This is going to be a strong contender for both an Edgar and a Shamus, unless the judges of each go completely brain-dead. Um. Come to think of it …

DIME MYSTERY MAGAZINE. May 1945. Cover by Gloria Stoll. Overall rating: *

BRUNO FISCHER “Deadlier Than the Male.” Novelette. A soldier’s buddy comes home from the war to check on his friend’s wife, who seems to have changed. Murder welcomes him at the door. Fairly obvious ending. (2)

TALMAGE POWELL “The Dark, Unfriendly Tide.” A man tries to dispose of a girl’s body in the bayou, but the elements betray him. Overly melodramatic. (3)

WILLIAM R. COX “They’ll Kill Me!” Novelette. Tom Kincaid has a murderous competition in his attempt to make a movie about gambling. Low grade Hollywood all the way. (0)

CYRIL PLUNKETT “Murder on the Wing.” A man obsessed with owls suspects his wife of poisoning him. (1)

FRANCIS K. ALLAN “The Man with the X-Ray Eyes.” Novel. Duke Danube saves a girl from involvement with murder in an opium den. Could have been put down at any time. (0)

JOHN PARKHILL [pseudonym of William R. Cox] “Slips That Pass in the Night.” An ex-Marine helps an explorer’s daughter regain two stolen rubies. (1)

JOE KENT [pseudonym of Francis K. Allan] “The Madman in the Moon.” Novelette. A soldier on furlough returns to his old neighborhood and is nearly framed for murder. A certain flavor of the wartime forties enhances this less-than-average story. (3)

DAY KEENE “A Corpse for Cinderella.” Novelette. Dancing skeletons, the kiss of death, and other “supernatural” happenings are exposed by a private detective. Had promise, but much too overdone. (1)

RAOUL WHITFIELD – The Virgin Kills. Knopf, hardcover, 1932. Quill, papernack, 1986. No Exit Press, UK, paperback, 1988.

   “The Virgin” is the name of a yacht. It’s called that because there’s no first mate.

   Yacht owner Eric Vennel invites a bunch of ‘friends’ to sail from NYC to Poughkeepsie on the Hudson to watch the regatta.

   Vennel owes a bunch of money to the mob and has put in the fix on the regatta. Heavily favored California’s star rower gets stuck with a morphine syringe right before the race, spoiling their chances.

   Unfortunately, the shot was too strong and the rower OD’s. Now the cops are involved, and Vennel has vanished, presumed dead. The remaining ‘friends’ aboard the yacht immediately become suspect, and the dead college boy’s rich father spares no expense in sending a fancy pants sleuth to find the killer.

   I enjoyed it. Not my favorite Whitfield by a long shot — but it’s still Whitfield; his dialogue is credible and vintage and his prose is tight.

THE AVENGERS “Mr. Teddy Bear.” ABC (Associated British Corporation), UK, 29 September 1962 (Season 2, Episode 1). Patrick Macnee (John Steed), Honor Blackman (Mrs. Cathy Gale). Guest cast: Michael Robbins, John Ruddock, Michael Collins. Written by Martin Woodhouse. Director: Richmond Harding.

   This was the first appearance of Honor Blackman as John Steed’s new partner in crime-solving, Cathy Gale, and it’s a good one. The villain of the piece is a notorious assassin for hire with a penchant for the dramatic and flamboyance in carrying out his tasks. Prime example: the episode begins with the death of his latest victim by poisoning on live TV.

   Playing to the killer’s obvious ego, Steed comes up a plan. Set himself as bait in a plot which would have Mrs Gale as Mr. Teddy Bear’s latest client. (The name comes from the man’s communicating with his clients via a radio hidden in a stuffed “talking” teddy bear.)

   The most common way a new leading character is introduced in a TV series nowadays is to have him or her having just been hired and needing to be mentored by the old guy that’s been around a while. Not so here. It is as if Cathy Gale has always been there. No introduction takes place. The somewhat flirtatious banter between the two leads is exactly that: relaxed and friendly, and a trademark of series from Day One.

   To that end, one other reviewer of this episode wondered if the two leads spent their nights as well as days together. The characters I mean. Come on. Obviously some people want to know more than I do.

   I also read an interview with Honor Blackman that was conducted much later on in which she was asked about this episode. She said she didn’t remember it very much at all. It was just a job, was her reply. No more than that. Who knew then that The Avengers was going to become such a worldwide phenomenon?
   

HENRY SLESAR – The Thing at the Door. PI Steve Tyner #1. Random House, hardcover, 1974. Pocket, paperback, 1976.

   Even though printed by Pocket Books in its Gothic series with corresponding cover to match the title, The Thing at the Door isn’t quite in that category. Private investigator Steve Tyner is on his first [and only recorded] case for the Fiduciary Bank. He does a minimum of detecting, however, all along amorously pursuing the wealthy young heroine Gail  Gunnerson whose nightmares have seemed to come to life.

   The culprit is disclosed mid-way through the book and  it is simply a matter of seeing how long it will take before he is trapped. The “thing at. the door” actually involves a clever psychological factor that the murderer puts to his own diabolic use. The suspense is nothing extraordinary or creepy, but rather well modulated. Retribution at the end is swift and highly ironic.

   Mr. Slesar has an otherwise good plot here which just does not quite come off. Perhaps it’s because the characters lack depth and fall short of being sympathetic. He won an Edgar for Best First Novel in 1959 with his The Grey Flannel Shroud.   He also wrote the novelization of the Edge of Night television series (The Seventh Mask, 1969).

   The Thing at the Door is the author’s fourth mystery novel, but unfortunately it is not a very good one.

THE ASPHALT JUNGLE. MGM, 1950. Sterling Hayden, Louis Calhern, Jean Hagen, James Whitmore, Sam Jaffe, John McIntire, Marc Lawrence, Anthony Caruso, Marilyn Monroe. Based on the novel by W. R. Burnett. Director: John Huston.

   Directed by John Huston, written by Huston and Ben Maddow, compared to Phil Rosen’s take on Dangerous Crossing [reviewed here ], The Asphalt Jungle mines W. R. Burnett’s novel for dramatic potential that I doubt even Burnett knew was there. It features career-capping performances by Sterling Hayden and Louis Calhern as players at the top and bottom ends of a jewel heist plotted by Sam Jaffe, backed up by a number of memorable cameos from such capable players as James Whitmore, Jean Hagen, Marc Lawrence, Barry Kelley and Marilyn Monroe.

   Huston’s pre-fab defeatism melds very nicely with scenarist Ben (Johnny Guitar) Maddow’s genuinely subversive left-wing sensibilities into a film that has become a well-deserved classic.

   Come to that, if you wanted a good notion of what a subversive screen-play really means, The Asphalt Jungle offers a prime example: To seemingly digress for a moment, novelist and screenwriter Borden (Red River, Winchester ’73, etc.), Chase once said that the secret of writing a good movie was to put in a part for John McIntire. McIntire appears (made up to look just exactly like the young Walter Huston) here as a Police Commissioner whose integrity stands out in sharp contrast to the corrupt tone of the film as a whole.

   Indeed, The Asphalt Jungle makes quite a point of portraying its nominal “criminals” as possessed of more honor than their “respectable” counter-parts. So one could well wonder what-the-hell he’s doing there at all, except that his whole character was probably written in as a sop to the censors.

   Yet even while making this nod to Convention, Maddow and Huston manage to sneak in a nice zinger: Late in the film, McIntire tells a bunch of reporters what a fine lot Policemen are, on the whole. And he’s convincing. For a moment, his speech almost seems to negate the whole tone of the film that preceded it. Then he concludes by characterizing Hayden, the one surviving member of the gang, as a “vicious hoodlum. A Man without human feelings or pity.”

   Cut from there to a shot of Hayden (WARNING!) racing back to his old Kentucky homestead, to die in the clean air (END OF WARNING!) and the perceptive viewer suddenly sees things that were never dreamt of in McIntire and his whole philosophy. A nice touch, just one of many in this film.

ROGER TORREY – 42 Days for Murder. Shean Connell #1. Hillman-Curl, hardcover, 1938. Mystery Novel Of The Month, nn, paperback, date? Hillman #23, paperback, 1949. Dennis McMillan Publications, softcover, 1988.

   Shean Connell, private detective, is hired by a rich dude whose wife has left him and gone to Reno for a divorce.

   The 42 days refers to the 6 weeks required for establishing Nevada residency, to take advantage of local divorce laws.

   The thing is, Mr. Moneybags can’t figure out why his wife would leave him. They loved each other, or so he thought. She never complained about a thing. And now she won’t even talk to him. He and a buddy were physically booted out of Reno by the Chief of Police after he went after her and tried to have a conversation. All Moneybags wants is a chance to talk to his wife. He’s sure that if only he can get in the same room with her and talk it over, they can work it out.

   It may sound simple, but it turns out that Moneybag’s wife has a doppelganger in a gangster’s moll, and ole mister moneybags may be worth more dead than divorced.

   It’s a tremendously confusing story in which violence is substituted for detection. Our detective, Connell, uses a similar strategy to that of the Continental OP in Red Harvest, Race Williams, and Cleve Adams’s Rex McBride: stir the pot, get everybody at each other’s throats and hope something happens.

   Something does indeed happen, as it always tends to do, and all’s well that ends well, I guess. But the writing is just okay and in the end the story is not complex enough (cf Red Harvest) to justify the messy plotting. The messiness is completely cleared up in a couple of pages of straight explication. I despise sudden thorough confessions that come out of nowhere. It’s like somebody told Torrey that the book was due and he needed to wrap it up in a hurry.