ELAINE FLINN – Dealing in Murder. Avon, paperback original, 2003.

   After her cheating husband involved her successful (and very upscale) antiques store in a criminal scam, Elaine Flinn’s protagonist fled to Carmel, California. Cleared of complicity but with her reputation still tarnished, Porter has set up amodest business in a shop in Carmel that a long-time friend has made available to her and adopted the name “Molly Doyle.”

   She quickly demonstrates a a penchant for being present at murder scenes and has not only to work to keep her young business afloat but solve crimes for which she’s clearly a prime suspect. As an added inducement to another category of readers among whom I count myself, there’s an art connection involving a cache of rolled-up canvases in a style Flinn characterizes as “early California.”

   These are more appealing to Molly than some of the stock she’s peddling in reduced circumstances but they also turn out to make her situation more dangerous and put her in direct conflict with the relentless killer.

   She’s a high-end snob but compensates for this with a sharp intelligence and impressive body of knowledge about the antiques business that makes her very likable and interesting. This is a first novel by a long-time San Francisco antiques dealer. I would recommend it to any reader of mysteries with the slightest interest in collecting.

      The Molly Doyle series —

1. Dealing in Murder (2003).   Nominated for an Agatha, Gumshoe, Barry and Anthony.
2. Tagged for Murder (2004).   Barry Award: Best Paperback Original. (2005).

3. Deadly Collection (2005).
4. Deadly Vintage (2007).

Editorial Note: Sad to say, Elaine Flinn died of pneumonia and cancer in September 2008.

   You can be well versed in the saga of Simon Templar, the Saint, Leslie Charteris’s creation, have read all the books and short stories by Charteris and others, seen all the movies and television episodes, have followed his adventures on radio, in the long running comic strip written by Charteris and drawn by Mike Roy, and later John Spanger and Doug Wildey, and his own comic book featuring newspaper reprints and original material by Charteris, and still not know the story of the Saint and the Five Kings. That is because the Five Kings never appeared between the covers of an actual book, but only in the Saint stories appearing in the British pulp magazine The Thriller, commencing with issue number 13 dated May 4, 1929.

   The Five Kings make their auspicious debut with this line:

   If that sounds familiar, it is because when is saw print in hard covers from Hodder and Stroughton a year later in 1930 as Enter the Saint, a key change had been made. The title of the story had been changed from “The Five Kings” to “The Man Who Was Clever” and the “organization known as the Five Kings,” now read “the organization led by the man known as the Saint.”

   You would not know what the Saint was to mean to The Thriller and its success in this early issue. There is no stick figure with a halo on the cover or inside the magazine, and while the Saint is identified as the Saint in the story no mention of him as an individual is made anywhere in the promotion, nor is that rectified for the rest of the year despite the appearance of the rest of the stories that comprise Enter the Saint and the two Saint novels that follow, The Last Hero, aka The Saint Closes the Case, and The Avenging Saint. The closest the Saint gets to headlining is in a story entitled “The Return of the Joker,” as the Saint is the fifth king, or Joker.

   Earlier that year two J. G. Reeder stories comprising Edgar Wallace’s Red Aces had appeared, and at that point it was Edgar Wallace that was the backbone of The Thriller, and it doesn’t take much imagination to see that Charteris’s Five Kings is very much a variation of Wallace’s Four Just Men, with each man hidden by a King in the deck of cards and the Saint behind the Joker.

   Patricia Holm is even along as the Queen to these five kings and Claude Eustace Teal and even the Saint’s man ’Orace, and in every other way the Saint is the Saint, you just wouldn’t know it based on the copy on the cover or inside the covers. Even the previews don’t mention the Saint, only the Five Kings.

   I’ve found few changes between the story as they appear in The Thriller and the stories in book form, save for that emphasis on the Five Kings by the magazine and by Charteris, and it is clear the selling point, though never stated, is “here is another series along the lines of the Four Just Men.”

   Of course the stories are nothing like Wallace’s Four Just men stories, and other than the Five Kings themselves the Saint is closer to Charteris’s other model, Bulldog Drummond, than Edgar Wallace in most matters. However much Wallace influenced Charteris’s subject matter, he is much closer to Raffles, Arsene Lupin, Sexton Blake, Oppenheim’s Peter Ruff, Drummond, Dornford Yates, John Buchan, and Anthony Hope than even Wallace’s Edwardian gentleman adventurers like the Brigand.

   Early on the Saint even encounters a mad scientist with a gas that dissolves a live goat that more than resembles the fate of Robin Bishop’s small dog in Sapper’s The Final Count, but even then the Five Kings are still getting better press than the Saint however much he dominates the story.

   Knowing how long it takes for reader reaction to be gauged by a magazine in terms of sales and letters, it is possible that it isn’t until Enter the Saint, the first collection of stories after the Saint’s debut in Meet — the Tiger that Simon Templar and his little stick figure avatar began to appear on the cover and in the interior of The Thriller.

   Since none of the stories in the magazine appear in book form under the same title and have those minor variations, and the Saint himself is not mentioned in any of the advertising in 1929, it would be entirely possible to miss him, especially since two other Charteris’s heroes appear in the magazine the same year only to fade into obscurity, while receiving equal weight in terms of promotion by the magazine. however.

   I’m trying to think of another series where a character so successful took that long to be recognized, but other than the 19th century French newspaper serial character Rocambole by Ponson du Terrail, and Nick Carter who started as the boy detective companion to Old Seth Carter, I’m coming up blank.

   Certainly other characters changed notably as their series went on. Good examples of this are Allingham’s Albert Campion and Sayers’ Lord Peter Wimsey. But as clear as it is reading the stories that they are about the Saint and always meant to be about the Saint and no one else, but reading the copy surrounding them you would be hard put to guess that.

   Still, you have to wonder what would have happened if that first book after Meet — the Tiger had been titled Enter the Five Kings? Would a saintly career have been cut short?

CARTER DICKSON – A Graveyard to Let. Berkley X1502; reprint paperback, January 1968. First published in the US by William Morrow, hardcover, 1949; first published in the UK by William Heinemann, hardcover, 1950. Other paperback reprints include: Dell #543, 1951; Belmont-Tower, 1973; Zebra, 1988.

   When I was younger I used to gobble up anything John Dickson wrote as if they were candy going out of style, whether under his own name or as (in this case) Carter Dickson. I don’t remember reading this one, though, but some 60 years later (almost), I hope I might be forgiven if I did, and I forgot.

   No matter. Either way, the book was new to me this time, or the same as, and unfortunately while it has its strong points, I didn’t enjoy it as much as I expected to, and I’ll get to that in a moment.

   The irrepressible Sir Henry Merrivale is in the United States in A Graveyard to Let, which was written relatively late in his crime-solving career. It was the 19th of 23 novels he appeared in, and he makes the the initial part of his stay in this country a spectacular one. When finished, he must make haste to Washington DC, it is revealed, but for what reason, HM refuses to say.

   There are a couple of comic (and almost silly) routines that take up more time than they should, to my way of thinking, the first as he demonstrates to a subway cop in vivid bombastic fashion how to go through the turnstiles free of charge. After reading how he did it, I went back to the original passage, and while while happened at the time isn’t very clear, I don’t think HM’s explanation holds up.

   There is another passage toward the middle of the book in which HM unaccountably shows his prowess at American baseball, the only purpose in the story being, as far as I can tell, is for HM to clout a fastball over the fence into an almost deserted graveyard, where a body, seriously wounded but not dead, is found.

   The man is also the same person who disappeared into thin air by jumping into a swimming pool under the watch of a small but significant crowd of people, and never coming out. Only his clothes come to the surface.

   And that’s the crux of the case. HM has half the solution right away, or so he claims, but does he reveal his deductions? Not a chance – but that’s of course the game we’re playing, so I don’t hold that against anybody.

   There are a couple of possible solutions, the other expounded upon by the aforementioned subway cop, which in many ways makes more sense than the real one, which takes all of Chapter 19, more than 20 pages long to work out in detail.

   While intrinsically fascinating, that’s too much work, in my mind, but Carr/Dickson nearly pulls it off. Until, that is, you close the book and start to wonder, why on earth did the man who jumped into the pool need to put such a dramatic — and complicated — plan into action?

   The reader of today isn’t interested in this kind of story any more, but you who are readers who are still interested in detective puzzles, this is one in which you have to watch the author’s every word. Every word. And as I said up above, at the risk of repeating myself, Carr/Dickson nearly makes it work.

  SAGEBRUSH LAW. RKO Radio Pictures, 1943. Tim Holt, Cliff Edwards, Joan Barclay, John H. Elliott, Roy Barcroft. Director: Sam Nelson.

  BEAU BANDIT. Radio Pictures, 1930. Rod La Rocque, Doris Kenyon, Mitchell Lewis, Tom Keene (as George Duryea), Walter Long, Charles B. Middleton, James Donlan. Director: Lambert Hillyer.

   Here are a couple of old western movies I taped off AMC over 20 years ago, back when AMC showed older movies without commercials and several years before TCM came along. It was by far my favorite cable channel at the time, whether the movies were classics or not.

   And neither of these two films are, to be honest with you, and neither is worthy of a full write-up (nor a short one, either, but what the hey). Tim Holt made a lot of B-western movies in the 40s, maybe almost 50 of them, but I never saw a one of them, growing up. I don’t know why they were never shown in my small home town, but as far as I recall, they never were.

   In Sagebrush Law, he has to clear his dad’s name as a banker who supposedly committed suicide after fearing he’d be caught stealing from his bank. Using the wrong hand, no less.

   Holt may have been the most handsome of the good guy western heroes, but what he didn’t seem to have was the onscreen charisma of either a Hoppy or a Roy or even a Gene, nor is the story any deeper than what I’ve just outlined. Cliff Edwards as his sidekick contributes a couple of songs, but needlessly so, and Joan Barclay is barely seen, and never in closeup.

   In Beau Bandit Rod La Rocque and a horrible pseudo-Spanish accent play a charming Mexican bandit in full Robin Hood mode, acting as a middle man in a romance that the local banker wishes to break up. This early talkie is acceptable fare, even today, but no more, and then only if your ears can make some accommodation for the accent.

THE WILD WILD WEST. “Night of the Inferno.” CBS, 17 September 1965. (Season 1, Episode 1.) Robert Conrad (James T. West), Ross Martin (Artemus Gordon). Guest Cast: Suzanne Pleshette, Victor Buono, Nehemiah Persoff, James Gregory (as President Ulysses S. Grant). Written by Gilbert Ralston and Michael Garrison (creator). Director: Richard C. Sarafian.

   Directed by Richard C. Sarafian, “Night of the Inferno” was the pilot episode for The Wild Wild West, the genre bending spy-Western series that aired on CBS from 1965-1969. The series starred Robert Conrad and Ross Martin as Secret Service agents tasked with foiling plots against the U.S. government after the Civil War. Conrad portrayed the series’ hero, Jim West, while Martin portrayed his memorably named partner/sidekick, Artemus Gordon.

   In “Night of the Inferno,” the audience meets Jim West and Artemus for the first time. The two Secret Service agents set out from Washington to the New Mexico Territory in order to hunt down a warlord by the name of Juan Manolo. Along the way, West encounters a seductive woman from his past and also has to face off against a Mexican general, Gen. Andreas Cassinello (portrayed by the prolific character actor, Nehemiah Persoff, who appeared in numerous television series during his long career and was the voice actor for the animated character Papa Mousekewitz in the An American Tail film franchise).

   Altogether, this pilot episode works quite well in both introducing the two main characters as well as the gadgetry that Jim West would make extensive use of while fighting to save the Union from various super villains and their devious plots. An interesting tidbit: when the series was in the works, the title was going to be The Wild West. Perhaps it sounded just a little too basic, hence the additional of the second “Wild” when the episodes began to air.

      PHOTO GALLERY:

Kat Gang is a jazz singer based in New York City. This is a live version of the first track on her 2014 CD of the same title.

WILLIAM HEFFERNAN – A Time Gone By. Simon & Schuster, hardcover, 2003. Akashic Books; trade paperback; April 2005.

   As a journalist, investigative reporter and editor, along with many other honors, William Heffernan was nominated three times for the Pulitzer Prize. As a crime fiction writer, it’s not clear how many times he was nominated for the MWA’s Edgar, but he won it once, for Tarnished Blue (1995) as the Best Paperback Original.

   He’s also not an author I’ve read before. Looking through the list of 16 books he’s written, it’s not difficult to see why. Most of his books are either gangster (Mafia) fiction or hard-edged police procedurals (his Paul Devlin series), neither of which category have I very actively been adding to my collection.

   In recent years Heffernan has decided to expand his range, making use of his extensive journalistic background. Alternating with books in his Devlin series have come Cityside (1999) a look into the more unsavory aspects of big city tabloidism; and Beulah Hill (2001), which takies place in 1933 Vermont, with a murder of a white boy by a suspected black causing a severe setback to racial relations in the area.

   A Time Gone By is Heffernan’s most recent book, and it’s very much of a tour de force. Switching the time frame of a murder mystery back and forth between 1945 and 1975, and making it seem the easiest thing in the world, never clashing gears once, is a challenge I suspect not many authors would be up to.

   When a crooked judge is murdered in his home in 1945, Jake Dowling was only a rookie cop, and not even with a more experienced partner could they continue fighting forever when they quickly enough discover that the political fix is in. Thirty years later, Jake — who for the most part tells his own story — finally has the clout and — after the death of his wife — the will to see if the case can be closed at last.

   There is a definite noir-ish feel to the scenes that take place in 1945, and of course, there is a woman involved. Even though Jake is married at the time, with a child on the way, he falls deeply in lust (if not love) with the judge’s new widow, a former hatcheck girl who has made good.

   In 1975, Jake knows that the wrong man went to the electric chair. Even though the man had clearly committed other murders, Jake knows that he died for one he didn’t do, but who did? Thus develops a tantalizing interplay between past and present, an enigmatic puzzle that roots itself into the mind of the reader as well, and refuses to become dislodged.

   While the transitions always take place smoothly, meshing into place almost perfectly, I believe the naive Jake of 1945, led around by the young widow by something other than his brain, is better developed than the Jake of 1975. As a chief of detectives for the NYPD, he still seems too callow for the job. How, one wonders, was he able to make all of the advancements he did to come out on top like this? It’s a subtle thing, and maybe it was only me.

   As for the mystery itself, it’s a winner, with – as the veteran mystery reader will suspect all the way through – well, you couldn’t have a detective story written as well as this without having a twist or two along the way, and/or a substantial surprise or three before it’s done, could you?

   I won’t say more. This is my kind of book. If you’re fond of 1940s noir with a slight but appreciable touch of sexual infidelity, you’ll have to read this one for yourself.

       BIBLIOGRAPHY

* = Paul Devlin series. Devlin is a detective with the New York City police department. Some descriptions of the books make it seem as though he reports directly to the mayor.

Broderick. Crown Publishers, hc. 1980. No paperback edition.
Caging the Raven. Wyndham Publications, hc. 1981. No paperback edition.
The Corsican. Simon & Schuster, hc. 1983. Signet, paperback, 1987.

Acts of Contrition. New American Library, hardcover, 1986. Onyx, paperback, August 1987.
Ritual. New American Library, hc, 1989. Signet, paperback, 1993.

* Blood Rose. E. P. Dutton, hardcover, 1991. Signet, paperback, December 1993.
Corsican Honor. E. P. Dutton, hardcover, 1992. Signet, paperback, March 1993.
* Scarred. Signet, paperback, December 1993
* Tarnished Blue. Onyx, paperback, April 1995. Winner of 1996 Edgar award for Best Paperback Original Novel.
* Winter’s Gold. Onyx, pb, Jan 1997.
The Dinosaur Club. William Morrow, hardcover, 1997. Pocket Books, paperback, December 1998.
Cityside. William Morrow, hardcover, 1999. Akashic Books, softcoverm September 2003.
* Red Angel. William Morrow, hardcover, 2000. Avon, paperback, December 2001.
Beulah Hill. Simon & Schuster, hardcover, 2001. Akashic Books, softcover, April 2003.
* Unholy Order. William Morrow, hardcover, 2002. Avon, paperback, December 2002.
A Time Gone By. Simon & Schuster, hardcover, 2003. Akashic Books, softcover, Apr 2005.
The Dead Detective. Akashic, hardcover, 2010.

HARDBALL “Till Death Do Us Part.” NBC, 21 September 1989 (Season 1, Episode 1), 90 minutes. John Ashton (Charlie Battles), Richard Tyson (Joe ‘Kaz’ Kaczierowski). Guest Cast: Kay Lenz. Director: David Hemmings.

   The way I heard it, and I don’t remember where, the pair of Beverly Hills police detectives in Beverly Hills Cop played by John Aston and Judge Reinhold made such a big hit that they (someone) decided to make a TV series along the same lines: an older, streetwise and supposedly wiser cop (Aston) is paired up with a more freewheeling and a lot younger partner (Tyson, in the series). Basic themes: Culture clash, hair vs no hair, and a lot of humorous bickering, but at the end the day, a solid friendship (and partnership) is made.

   But “buddy cop” shows have come and gone for quite a while, and this one doesn’t add a lot to the genre. Wikipedia says the series was based on a couple of characters in the “Lethal Weapon” series of movies. I like my version better, even if I’m wrong.

   The series lasted for only one season, 18 episodes in all. It started in September of 1989, with a long break between December and April before ending in June. I think the people who spend their time reading up on old obscure TV shows on blogs like this one are the only ones who might remember it at all. Based on this pilot episode, I kind of wonder how it lasted a full season, more or less, but on the other hand, it could have been a lot worse.

   The story itself isn’t all that new, either. Ashton’s character is about to be forced into a desk job, but when a female witness (Kay Lenz) is about to testify against her gangster husband and needs protection, Ashton and his new partner are it. We’ve all heard that one before, but luckily there is more to the story. Ashton and Lenz’s characters have some history together, and there’s a little boy who bonds with Tyson’s, and if you don’t know he’s going to be kidnapped before the show is over, I apologize for coming right out and telling you.

   One remarkable thing about this show is Tyson’s hair. When he wears it in an unruly ponytail, it’s fine, but when he lets it flow unfettered and free, his head looks three times its usual size. Well, OK, there is one other thing. When Ashton gets desperate for information, I’ll just say he doesn’t mind who he smacks around and leave it at that.

   I have a collector-to-collector set of DVDs of most if not all the series, but with the first episode not really better than average, and a picture quality to match, I may or may not rush into watching more of them. On the other hand, I paid for them, so why not. But unless something happens in one of the later episodes I really want to tell you about, I’m not likely to say anything more than I have here.

JAMES LEE BURKE – A Stained White Radiance. Dave Robieheaux #5. Hyperion, hardcover, 1992; Avon, paperback, 1993.

   Burke is hot right now. There are always writers who catch the critics’ eyes and occasion the tossing around of phrases like “transcend the genre,” and other such inanities. Crumley, Le Carré, James, Leonard, etc., etc., depending on the year and critic, have been so honored, and now Burke. I’m one of those Wrong Thinkers who sees Jacques Barzun as pompous, condescending and generally full of it, and think that talk of transcending the genre is arrant nonsense, but I like James Lee Burke’s writing anyway.

   Here we find Robicheaux, an alcoholic, dry and working as a Sheriff’s Deputy in the Iberia Parish of Louisiana. As if he didn’t have enough problems, his wife suffers from lupus. As the book opens he is called to the house of Weldon Sonnier, a wealthy oil-man. Robicheaux had gone to elementary school with three of the Sonniers, dated one, served in Vietnam with another. They are a strange family, one the wife of a Klansman-cum-politician, yet another a television evangelist. Their family history, besides intersecting his own, is a bit on the Gothic side, and Robicheaux is reluctant to become involved with them.

   For good reason. Weldon is associated with and indebted to a local gang boss, and has had CIA links in the past. Bits of the family’s twisted history surface, the story turns dark and strange, and the plot takes odd — and sometimes dubious — twists. His old New Orleans partner on the police force, Clete, now a private detective, aids him in his struggles.

   From interviews, it’s plain that Burke takes his writing very seriously, and does not see himself as a genre writer. He is a friend and admirer of James Crumley, and indeed they share both virtues and failings in the craft. Both are, for lack of a better phrase, powerful prose stylists; and both are rather muddy plotters, though Burke is much the better of the two. To be fair, I think that both are simply much more concerned with what they have to say about the human condition than they are niceties of plot.

   Burke, to me, has all the prerequisites of the storyteller. a superb skill at putting words together, the ability to bring his characters to life and make you care about them, and a story to tell that holds the interest. He’s one of the few authors I buy in hardcovers, and while Radiance is not his best work, it is nevertheless an excellent one. Highly recommended.

      Eli Wallach would have been 100 today:

   Here’s a link to Jonathan’s review of The Lineup (1958):

https://mysteryfile.com/blog/?p=26371

      Also 100 today, Leigh Brackett:

      And 105, Louis Prima:

      And many, many others who are well known to readers of this blog, I’m sure.