COLIN ROBERTSON – A Lonely Place to Die.

Robert Hale, UK, hardcover, 1969. No US edition.

   You can sometimes buy the darnedest things on eBay, which is what happened not too long ago, when I picked up a small collection (seven) of Colin Robertson’s hardcover mysteries from a seller in Canada.

   And even though seven sounds like a sizable amount, it is indeed small when you compare it to the author’s total output, which runs to something like 57 novels and collections under his own name, not including a Sexton Blake adventure that came out under the house name of Desmond Reid.

   The book I happened to pick, more or less at random out of the stack, is an adventure of Peter Gayleigh, a name I confess I did not know ahead of time, and whom I will get back to in a minute.

   First, though, here’s a list of all of the series characters that originated from the typewriter of Mr. Robertson. See how many of these fellows (and one gal, I believe) you recognize. In chronological order of their first appearances:

       Inspector John Martin (1935-39; three books.)
       Inspector Robert Strong (1935-40; four books)
       Victor Raiefield (1938-40; two books, both in tandem with Strong)
       Peter Gayleigh (1939-69; fifteen books)
       Edward North (1950-53; four books)
       Vicky McBain (1951-61; nine books)
       Supt. Bradley (1957-70; eleven books)
       Alan Steel (1965-68; three books)

   There were some stand-alone’s as well, in case you were trying to make the total come out right. And to tell you the truth, as I hinted at above, I am only assuming that Vicky McBain is female. Googling did not help. I found only one semi-useful reference, and it did not say either way, only that Vicky was a private investigator. And if you were wondering, no, none of the other six Robertson’s I obtained via eBay are Vicky McBain thrillers either, so there’s no assistance to be gained from that quarter.

   But a few of the ones I have are affairs that it was up to James Bond knockoff Alan Steel to handle. I use the term “knockoff” deliberately and in similar fashion to Peter Gayleigh, who seems to have followed in the footsteps of one Simon Templar, gentleman adventurer, rather closely.

   Or perhaps, if one to were to analyze the matter a bit more closely, it might be possible to conclude that John Creasey’s Richard Rollinson (aka The Toff) was also a model. At one point while reading A Lonely Place to Die, that’s who I was definitely reminded of, according to the note to myself I wrote at the time.

   In fact, what I’ll do is give you the paragraph I was reading when I made myself that comment, and you can judge for yourself. From page 62:

   Or maybe not. Note the use of the word “buccaneering.” On page 70, Gayleigh is again referred to as “a notorious character, an insolent buccaneer,” so maybe the Simon Templar comparison is not so far off, since that is exactly how I remember The Saint being described in Mr. Charteris’s books. You decide.

   I had no idea while I was reading this book that it was to be Gayleigh’s last (recorded) adventure, a spy caper involving a deadly virus designed for germ warfare, although I doubt that knowing it would have changed my opinion of it very much, if at all.

   He and Diana (see above) live apart, and they seem to have a rather chaste relationship, for all of the companionship there exists between them.

   What is rather remarkable – or let’s make that “who” – is a femme fatale who nearly comes between them. At the least, there are strong hints (see page 89) that Gayleigh is strongly attracted to Corinne Raeburn, a madcap heiress or jet-set socialite not akin to an early Paris Hilton, but one with a gun. And she is also a woman who knows how to use it.

   Unfortunately the plot itself is strictly a paint-by-numbers sort of affair, brightly colored in spots and not making a lot of sense in others. While the book kept me reading for the requisite amount of time, I see the other six books sitting there, and I say to myself about Colin Robertson, probably not next. Sometime soon, perhaps, but not next.

[UPDATE] 02-21-10.   Nor not yet, I’m sorry to say. I don’t remember this book all that well — that’s one of the reasons I starting writing reviews, way back when, so that I could remind myself of what I thought of a book, long after I’d have otherwise forgotten it — but for some reason, I remember enjoying it more than that last paragraph would indicate.

   Nor, in the meantime, do I seem to have learned anything more about Vicky McBain. At the moment I have the feeling, however, since the name is spelled Vicky, not Vickie, that “she” is a he. Someone who knows will probably tell us soon.

[UPDATE] 02-23-10.   And here’s the answer, which I’ve just received via email from British mystery bookseller Jamie Sturgeon:

Hi Steve,

     Vicky McBain, as you surmised, is a male. From the blurb to Who Rides a Tiger —

   The book is narrated in the first person so I can’t give you a physical description of him but he is 38 years old, he has an office in central London with a secretary called Kay and his car is a vintage coupe.