MILES BURTON – The Man with the Tattooed Face. Inspector Henry Arnold & Desmond Merrion #15. Doubleday Crime Club, US, hardcover, 1937. Previously published in the UK as Murder in Crown Passage (Collins, hardcover, 1937). Albatross Mystery Club #436, paperback, April 1939.

   The face of the dead man found in Crown Passage, a narrow walkway in the small village of Faston Bishop, is indeed marred by tattoos, those of a suspiciously Chinese origin. He had been hit over the head by the proverbial short but very blunt instrument. Unaccustomed to dealing with violent crimes of this nature, the local police force calls for help almost immediately.

   Enter Inspector Arnold of Scotland Yard. Even though the dead man worked only at odd jobs as a poor labourer, he never seemed to have been short of money, and he always sat in the more elite section of the local pub. After a few rounds of questioning, Arnold soon has a theory of the case, even down to who done it. This is on page 100 or so of a 280 page novel, so of course we know he’s wrong.

   And so does his friend Desmond Merrion, a former military intelligence officer who often assists Arnold on his various cases, and he doesn’t hesitate in telling the latter so almost as soon as he’s been briefed on the investigation. They do make good pair, though, as they begin looking at the evidence again.

   This is one of those detective mysteries in which almost no action takes place; only a nearly non-stop series of conversations with everyone who is even tangentially involved. Some minor coincidences take place, and I quibble a bit about one aspect of the killer, but no more than that. Modern mystery fans would, I imagine, be bored to tears. But not I, nor probably you, if you have read this far into this review.

   As for me, I loved it. Quiet, polite, and subdued is what I needed when I started this one, and that is exactly I got. And so will you, if you ever manage to find a copy. When last I looked, there were no copies anywhere to be had on the Internet. John Rhode’s books are being reprinted – he’s another of the author’s pen names, the author in question being Cecil John Charles Street – why aren’t Miles Burton’s? There are 61 in all, most of them yet to be published in this country. Help, someone!
   

NOTE: I have read the book once before, and I wrote a review of it back in 1980. It was posted here on this blog in 2013. Here’s the link. I deliberately did not look at this earlier review before writing this later one. I am surprised but pleased to see how similar the two reviews are.

BARRICADE. 20th Century Fox, 1939. Alice Faye, Warner Baxter, Charles Winninger, Arthur Treacher, Keye Luke, Willie Fung, Philip Ahn. Directed by Gregory Ratoff.

   In the midst of war-torn China, an isolated, almost forgotten American consulate is besieged by Mongolian bandits, Trapped inside, among others, are a beautiful American woman (traveling incognito without a passport as the Russian wife of a dead American) and a reporter who is “temporarily” between jobs, fired for having concocted an interview with a Chinese general who (unbeknownst to him) was dead at the time.

   On the surface this is nothing more than a love story, taking place against a background of history’s making, filled with suspense and brave deeds, but once again the real hero is neither of the two leading stars. As the consul who is all but forgotten by his country, Charles Winninger turns in an outstanding performance as a patriot who has not forgotten his country a fraction of an inch. Seemingly bumbling and naive, Winninger shows that his character knows exactly what is going on, and that trampling on the rights of Americans is not an action that should be taken lightly.

   In other words, an old-fashioned movie that’s as timely as last month’s headlines.

CLIVE CUSSLER – Night Probe!  Dirk Pitt #5.  Bantam, hardcover, 1981; paperback, 1982.

   After helping raise the Titanic last time out (*), what could there possibly be for Dirk Pitt to do for an encore? As America’s number one underwater super-agent, even he would seem hard pressed to come up with something to top that one.

   The year is 1989, far enough into the future for the United States to be realistically sinking slowly into bankruptcy, desperately in need of new sources of energy, and yet near enough to avoid being passed off as mere science fiction. Missing are two vitally needed copies of a treaty made with England in 1914, one that would have sold Canada to the United States to help finance the early stages of World War I, but lost to the pages of history by an amazing series of tragic accidents.

   One copy is in an ocean liner now residing at the bottom of the St. Lawrence Seaway. The other is somewhere on a train which met its doom on the very same day, crashing through a bridge crossing the Hudson River.

   Together, their twin disappearances mark one of the greatest vanishing acts of all time. (The treaty was secret. Why is it that hardly anybody remembers either disaster?) The President puts all his faith in Dirk Pitt to produce another miracle.

   Not to be caught napping, Britain calls out of retirement one of the most famous spies the world has ever known, just for the occasion. He is known as “Brian Shaw” in this book, but that won’t fool any of his many fans for. a minute. Reknown as both a ladies’ man and for his even more famous license to kill, “Shaw” proves he has lost none of his touch for either.

   In a word, Clive Cussler’s technical expertise in matters aquanautical is impressive, but if anything his. knack for telling a spell-binder of a story is even more so. Like the old penny-a-word pulpsters, or the directors of the great adventure serials of yesteryear, Cussler is a master of action, intrigue,. and romance (not necessarily in that order), and the pace is never allowed to slacken for a moment.

   If you missed the hardcover (Bantam, 1981), the paperback is now out. You could wait for the movie,  I suppose, but why? (**)

Rating: A

(*) I was incorrect on this. There was another Dirk Pitt adventure between Raising the Titanic! and Night Probe!, that being Vixen 03.

(**) I was incorrect on this as well. There has been no movie made from this book. And surprisingly enough, given the popularity of the Dirk Pitt books, only two of them have been made into films: Raise the Titanic! (1980) and Sahara (2005).

K. K. BECK – Death in a Deck Chair. Iris Cooper #1. Walker & Co., hardcover, 1984. Ivy, paperback, 1987.

   Replete with the vintage scenery of shipboard antics and romance, this book provides an airy, enjoyable read. [The year is 1927 and young Stanford co-ed] Iris Cooper is completing a round-the-world cruise with her aunt aboard the luxury liner Irenia. Shipboard life becomes strained when a rather inconspicuous young man is found knifed in the back while sitting in a deck chair.

   Iris becomes an impromptu amateur detective when the captain accepts her offer to take shorthand during the murder investigation. A blackmail plot is discovered which points to several likely suspects: a seductive screen star vamp with a lurid past; a journalist eager to find a story; a prince traveling incognito; and a mysterious professor.

   An anarchist plot to depose the monarchy in Graznia is disclosed, which is intertwined with the victim’s identity and purpose in traveling aboard this particular ship.

   Light touches of romance pepper this sprightly mystery which evokes a pleasant period ambience. This is a murder for those who favor old-fashioned mysteries.

   
      The Iris Cooper series —

1. Death in a Deck Chair (1984)
2. Murder in a Mummy Case (1986)
3. Peril Under the Palms (1989)

TAKE AIM AT THE POLICE VAN. Nikkatsu, Japa, 1960. Original title: Sono gosôsha wo nerae: ‘Jûsangô taihisen’ yori. Michitaro Mizushima, Mari Shiraki, Misako Watanabe, Shinsuke Ashida, Shôichi Ozawa. Director: Seijun Suzuki.

   Although not a film noir, this Japanese crime film from 1960 has a lot going for it for fans of the genre from a purely visual point of view. Filmed in sharp, clear black and white, Take Aim at the Police Van avoids the big glittering neon-lit cities seen so often in movie staking place in Japan, and concentrates instead on the underbellies of small towns and in darkened streets and long stretches of mostly isolated highway (not always).

   The opening scene tells you right away where the title in English came from. A prison bus is shot at by a sniper on a hillside, killing not the guards, but two of the three convicts being transported inside. One of the guards, Daijirô Tamon (played by Michitaro Mizushima) is deemed responsible and is given a six months’ suspension.

   Rather than sit back and take a vacation, Tamon decides to track down the killer(s) and find out what kind of scheme is behind the murders, thus leading him into a complex tale of a prostitution ring, dead ends, false trails, fake deaths, and narrowly escaping death in a runaway gasoline tanker leaking a trail of flames behind it as it thunders down a highway.

   Even more importantly, every clue he follows seems to lead him back to a beautiful but totally enigmatic woman, Yuko Hamashima (Misako Watanabe), whose father apparently runs a brothel, but in whose absence illness Yuko is trying to keep the business going, but with competition being what it is, without as much success as she’d prefer.

   I am hazy on the details. There are a lot twists and turns in the tale that is told in this movie, with very abrupt changes of scenes, not only in time but in location. Another viewing may help, and I think I will, if only to savor the entire viewing experience again, the story itself be damned.

● W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM – The Narrow Corner. William Heinemann Ltd., UK, hardcover, 1932.

● THE NARROW CORNER. Warners, 1933. Douglas Fairbanks Jr, Patricia Ellis, Ralph Bellamy, Dudley Digges, Artur Hohl, Reginald Owen, Willie Fung, and Sidney Toler. Screenplay by Robert Presnell. Directed by Alfred E. Green.

● ISLE OF FURY. Warners, 1936. Humphrey Bogart, Margaret Lindsay, Donald Woods, E.E. Clive, Paul Graetz, George Regas, Tetsu Komai, Miki Morita, and Frank Lackteen. Screenplay by Robert Hardy Andrews and William Jacobs. Directed by Frank McDonald.

   The Narrow Corner finds Maugham striding confidently through Joseph Conrad territory, with a Marlow-like narrator recalling his encounter with a young wastrel out cruising the south seas to evade a murder rap in Australia. With the ship laid up for repairs on a remote island, the young man meets a family of simple, decent Dutch traders and finds love (or does he?) when it’s too late (or is it?)

   Maugham does a splendid job with the locations, the simple plot and the complex characterizations, but it sometimes seems he’s trying too hard to write a Serious Novel when he could be telling a Good Story. I should also add, in case you’re bothered by it, that this is the homosexiest straight novel I’ve seen in some time: the women are generally predatory or self-absorbed, and Maugham spends a lot of time contrasting the physical beauty and innocence of the young men with the saggy, baggy dissipation of their elders.

   Despite the subtext, The Narrow Corner was snapped up by Warners and filmed just a year after publication. In those heady, pre-code days, Hollywood could still exploit the steamy exoticism of the thing, and director Alfred E. Green and writer Robert Presnell did rather well by it, Presnell excising Maugham’s pretensions, and Green slapping the story on screen with pace and style.

   Corner offers one of the best storm-at-sea scenes ever in the Movies, plus a cast of able thespians (including Doug Fairbanks Jr. as the wastrel, Patricia Ellis as the love-starved island girl, Dudley Digges and Arthur Hohl as dope-addict doctor and crooked captain, and Sidney Toler as a tough “fixer.”) delivering some sharp lines. The film falls down only in the casting of Ralph Bellamy, the mere appearance of whom gives away the ending immediately.

   A few years later, Warners went to the well again, and to their credit, they made an enjoyable “B” picture out of the thing. True, they tossed out most of Maugham’s novel (He got screen credit anyway, which he may or may not have welcomed.) but they filled it up with crackerjack ideas of their own invention: shifty natives planning robbery and fomenting unrest; a larcenous skipper prone to murder; undersea mayhem, and even a hokey octopus!

   Humphrey Bogart, sporting an unflattering mustache, stars as a husband balanced precariously on the edge of cuckoldry when mysterious castaway Donald Woods turns up on his remote tropical island. Wise old Doctor E.E. Clive is quick to intuit the attraction between Woods and Bogey’s bride (lovely Margaret Lindsay, whose star burned steadily in Hollywood but somehow never caught fire) but writers Andrews and Jacobs cut away to the action scenes before things get too syrupy.

   They also do a good job of fleshing out the characters to more than B-movie dimensions. Director McDonald lets his actors expand to fit the parts, as his camera moves gracefully through the studio tropics. As for Bogart, well, this was the point in his career when Warners was still wondering what to do with him, the years he spent playing second-leads, vampires and Mexican bandits. He looks a bit as if at any moment the writers might decide to kill off his character, and the uncertainty works well in this context. It’s not Maugham’s novel, but it’s a dandy bit of entertainment in the Warners style.

PATRICIA WENTWORTH – The Blind Side. Inspector Ernest Lamb #1. Hodder & Stoughton, UK, hardcover, 1939. Lippincott, US, hardcover, 1939. Popular Library #66, US, paperback, 1945. Warner, US, paperback, June 1991. More recent editions include Dean Street Press, trade paperback, 2016, which is probably still in print.

   Miss Silver is not in this one, but her two favorite policemen, Inspector Lamb and Detective Abbott, both are. (*) The dead man in Craddock House, made over into individual flats, is quite unlikable — he’s a man with a bad temper, and a womanizer, to boot — and there are lots of suspects, mostly relatives and disgruntled employees, but leading the list is a boy friend of a girl friend if you see what I mean.

   There are so many people in and out of the dead man’s apartment during the night, including at least one sleepwalker, somebody should have been selling tickets. It takes a while for the sequence of events to get straightened out, as you can imagine, but Wentworth manages to keep the puzzle alive and moving during the next few days to follow.

   One thing puzzled me, however, and that occurred immediately after p.150, when Lamb and Abbott believe they have the case all but solved. The only question they haven’t yet answered is how their suspect, who didn’t have a key, managed to get into the building. Nevertheless, two chapters later the inquest takes place, and the jury willingly accepts Scotland Yard’s version of the crime, even as to the guilty party, and with no questions asked.

   Then after the funeral, on p.168, the question of how the killer got in pops up again, with the discovery of a key that may have been stolen, and since apparently almost anyone could have taken it, it forces the case wide open again. It’s awkward story-telling, but that’s all it is. It doesn’t really detract from the mystery, which (in spite of the over-abundance of clues) is rather easily solved — though with surprisingly little help from the police.

   This is a pleasant story, but all in all, it’s not a very challenging one.

         ____

(*) At the time I wrote this review, it appears I knew of a prior meeting or other connection between Miss Silver and the two detectives of record in this book. Unfortunately I no longer remember what that relationship was, if any. (I assume there was.)

      Just for fun:

PATRICIA MOYES – Angel Death. Inspector Henry Tibbett #15. Collins Crime Club, UK, hardcover, 1980. Holt, Rinehart &Winston, US, hardcover, 1981. Henry Holt & Co, US, paperback, 1982.

   Angel Death is a gripping suspense novel set in Moyes’s fictitious group of Caribbean islands. Inspector Henry Tibbett and wife Emmy are on vacation at the small hotel operated by their friends, the Colvilles; they plan a week’s sailing in a rented boat as well. At the Colvilles also is Miss Betsy Sprague, an interesting and lively old lady. On her first leg of the journey back to Britain she unaccountably disappears after making a phone call to tell the Colvilles that she has spotted the daughter of an old friend, a young woman who is supposed to have gone down with her boat.

   Convinced that Betsy has been murdered, the Tibbetts set out to find her killers. In the course of this Henry suddenly changes. His behavior becomes both manic and paranoid. He won’t let Emmy stay on the boat with him; he sends a telegram to Scotland Yard resigning; he takes off sailing with two young couples.

   Does he have a plan which depends on this weird behavior? Or has he been drugged? The Governor and police of the islands suspect him of being subverted by drug smugglers, and issue a warrant for his arrest. While this reader was breathlessly wondering how and when Henry would get back to normal, not one but two hurricanes strike the islands.

   Emmy has an unwonted opportunity to be a detective on her own. Henry turns up on a foundered boat after the first hurricane, his memory for the intervening time confused and mostly lost. The second hurricane brings it back, Together, he and Emmy foil a plot that is much grander than the smuggling of drugs. As usual Moyes brings her people to life and makes all of this wild action seem quite believable.

RED LIGHT. United Artists, 1949. George Raft, Virginia Mayo, Gene Lockhart, Raymond Burr, Henry (Harry) Morgan, Barton MacLane, Ken Murray, William Frawley. Directed by Roy Del Ruth.

   Watching old movies like this one, you begin to wonder all sorts of strange things, such as how some actors and actresses became well-known stars, and others didn’t. Take George Raft, for example. Take Virginia Mayo, for another , Neither one could act their way out of a dark room, not if you take this movie as a prime example of their work (and quite possibly you shouldn’t).

   Admittedly it’s a low budget crime drama, but that doesn’t stop all of the lower ranked players in the list of credits from showing them how it should be done, if they were paying attention. As the owner of a trucking company whose brother is killed in a bit of gangland revenge, George Raft is as dapper a dresser as ever, but he’s stiff as a board in any small matters such as facial expressions or simply walking across a room.

   As for Virginia Mayo, she had the looks and figure to be a star, I suppose, but her delivery here is as wooden as the board that Raft is as stiff as. The real star of this movie is Raymond Burr. In fact this was shown on TNT as part of a afternoon-long Salute to Raymond Burr, which shows that the people at TNT know what they are doing.

   Burr is the hoodlum who’s been sent up by Raft, and he’ s the one who hires Harry Morgan to wipe out Raft’s brother. Burr was a little overweight at this time of his career, but his dark, glowering eyes made him a perfect villain in any number of films of this same caliber. Morgan, before he began to make a name for himself in comedy roles, was also perfect as a series of dim-witted killers or former boxers who’d taken one too many on the chin.

   Whenever Burr is on screen, the story takes on life. Whenever he’s not, the temptation is to find the fast-forward button. Not a ”noir” film, except on occasion, but in reality an inspirational type of movie, a testament to the practice of leaving Gideon Bibles in every hotel room in the country. (*)

(*) And speaking of Gideon Bibles, it reminds me that the shooting (and a good deal of the subsequent investigation) takes place in the Carlton Hotel, San Francisco. Trivia question: what long-running radio/TV series was there that began almost every episode in the same hotel?