MURDER IN A HEATWAVE

Phew, it’s a scorcher. But whole some are dragging out the sunbeds or heading for the beach, others have very different plans. As the Mercury rises, tempers begin to fray, and opportunities present themselves … for murder.

At a summer fete’s vegetable competition, a violent death becomes best in show. On a boiling night in London, an impossible murder is committed. At the Edinburgh Festival, a suicide forces a theatre troupe to reveal their darkest secrets. And a Fourth of July picnic is the setting for a mysterious poisoning.

These ten classic mysteries by giants of the crime genre will puzzle, surprise and entertain you – so, grab a cold drink and step into the shade … if you dare.

Just look at that glorious cover. If there were two book covers that went together perfectly, It’s Uncle Paul and Murder in a Heatwave. They’re like a couple of Summer postcards from the 1950s. Saying that, much like another summer crime collection edited by Cecily Gayford, the stories themselves had little to do with the theme or cover art. As I said in my review for Murder by the Seaside, “they’re not even near the beach! Why are they in this collection!?”

We’re given ten stories, beginning with Dorothy L. Sayers and Arthur Conan Doyle (because they always have to stick a Sherlock story in these collections for some reason, and yeah I skipped it (but went back to it just before starting the last story in the book) and compared to the Sherlock Holmes story from Murder by the Seaside, I was pleasantly surprised! It was a bit slow at the start (but it circles back to a theme at the end, tying the story together). It was an interesting read. The best part was the guilty admission at the end, and it was the one story where I felt sympathy for the criminal.

And from a writer of the nineteenth century to an author of the relatively youthful age of sixty-three (in a collection for ‘classic mystery writers’??) A Good Hanging by Ian Rankin is based at the Ediburgh Festival, busy with crowds and a lively atmosphere of youthful actors in the middle of Summer. One of the longer stories in the collection, there are more developed characters (unlike the barrage of names that get thrown at you in Michael Innes’ The Mouse Trap), but I did have some misgivings over the resolution when we find out the hanged victim had been in a fight beforehand, but there’s no mention of any bruising or injury that doesn’t line up with the supposed cause of death.

Summer Show is the shortest story at about six pages, it’s fast-paced, with little introduction to characters and their weird names, (Quarles? Comstock? Tarn? What even are these names?) It starts off talking about vegetables and just spirals. (I bet Julian Symons had a great time writing that splash of crazy.) I liked the inventive (if not unrealistic) murder committed in Carter Dickson’s The Silver Curtain (in an otherwise quite dry story), and the main character of Ethel Lina White’s White Cap, Tess Leigh.

Attractive, athletic and possessed of a sweet yet strong character. Fearlessly outspoken, she had a deep sympathy with the underdog and always rushed in to champion any victim of injustice.

A modern day woman, first written in 1942.

But I have to admit, I related to Rex Stout’s protagonist Nero Wolfe (at first I was like (‘not another stupid name’ lol) but this guy has to be the only detective I’ve read about who wants nothing to do with the crime. He discovers the body and he’s ready to bounce.

He was grim. “That man on the cot is dead. I lifted the blanket to adjust it. One of those knives is in his back, clear to the handle. He is dead. If we are still here when the discovery is made you know what will happen. We will be here all day, all all night, a week, indefinitely. That is intolerable. We can answer questions at home as well as here.”

He just wants to go home and be fat and comfy with his plants (such a Taurus) not to mention his sidekick Archie Goodwin; confident, witty, and with a thing for the ladies, he’s a refreshing change of pace from the usual type that tag along to help the detective lead.

Short story collections are always a good way to discover unknown writers. For me, in Murder by the Seaside it was Gladys Mitchell, and from Murder in a Heatwave the standouts have to be Ethel Line White, Julian Symons and Rex Stout. Am I disappointed that none of the stories took place on a lido by the sea as depicted on the cover? Sure, but at least they were set in the summer. And at least Watson mentioned the shingle of Southsea.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

THE FESTIVAL MURDERS

Bryce Peabody is ready to give a scandalous talk at the annual literary festival in the pretty English town of Mold-on-Wold. Scathing in his reviews and unseemly in his affairs, Bryce is known to have many enemies. So when he is discovered dead in his hotel room festival-goers are desperate to know what happened. Could one of the numerous writers he insulted have taken revenge? Or perhaps one of his scorned lovers? As more festival-goers meet their ends, Francis Meadows is drawn into a role he knows only from his own fiction – that of amateur detective.

Another one of my bargain books at £2.99, a murder mystery novel set at a festival, and a literary festival, no less! I liked the first page, made to look like an event programme where it stated who was giving a talk, what time and where. And I found the premise of a crime writer at a writers’ event solving a murder intriguing. A case of Life Imitating Art.

In the vein of many an Agatha christie novel, the book doesn’t open with our main character. We’re first introduced to our soon to be victim, scathing literary critic Bryce Peabody. And in the style of a Midsomer Murder episode, we spend the first few chapters getting a sense of his character and ongoing feud with big-time writer Dan Dickson. Bryce is full of himself and unapologetic about it, and I kind of liked him! By chapter five we get introduced to our protagonist, Francis Meadowes, small time crime writer of the George Braithwaite series, all set to deliver a talk on the history of the amateur sleuth, whilst becoming one himself. (And if I’m honest, the change from writer to competent sleuth happened very quickly, with no hesitation from our main character, and no justifiable reason as to why he was investigating in the first place, other than his insatiable curiosity.)

Fortunately for Meadowes, his complete lack of authority doesn’t stop the other writers and visitors from telling him everything, with little prompting on Meadowe’s part, and all I could think was why? He‘s just a writer! Asking the same questions the police would ask. (I was actually happy when someone finally called him out on it.) The majority of Francis’s interactions are structured like interviews. Question, answer, question, answer, small bit of outside description, repeat. It’s a little robotic, and reminiscent of Alex Pine’s writing style (but at least his character is a detective, so he sort of gets a pass?) And there’s no shortage of people for Meadowes to talk to, from the five other writers speaking at the festival, to the festival-goers spending the weekend at Wyveridge Hall, an old mansion being rented out for the occasion. They all have reason to hate Bryce, from his girlfriend Pria’s ex, the hot tempered and bitter travel writer Conal, to Bryce’s own long term ex girlfriend Scarlett, and his bit on the side. Not to mention the subject of his talk, which promises to expose a truth a fellow writer would want to keep hidden at any cost.

I found the dialogue from the female characters believable, which is a good start, but I’m not sure we’re pasing the Bechdel test here. There are four prominent female characters, but I don’t recall any of them speaking to each other, and how could they possibly talk about anything other than a man, when one’s been murdered? Not only that, one they’ve all, at some point, been in a relationship with! And with the Bechdel test firmly out the window, McCrum made sure all of them had a motive tied into their womanly urge to bare children (ie they have kids, they want to have kids, they regret getting rid of a kid…) you know. Just woman stuff. At least one character already had enough of a motive for murder, that throwing something like that into the mix just felt OTT.

When it comes to the character of Francis Meadowes, one thing that lets McCrum down is the difference between those first opening chapters, and the rest of the book that’s told from Meadowe’s pov. The victim, Bryce, felt more developed than him, whereas Meadowes, in comparison, came across bland and uninspired, so I didn’t really gel with him. Not to mention he was OK with the idea of getting into a relationship with the much younger Pria, days after her boyfriend was murdered. Kind of gave me the ick.

He withdrew his hand from hers and got to his feet, then leant over her and kissed her softly on the forehead. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her. Just the smell of her was doing powerful things to him. But the poor girl had only lost her boyfriend two nights ago. She was clearly still in shock. If there was going to be a time for this to develop in a constructive way, it shouldn’t be now.

See what I mean? You want me to root for this guy?

Where the setting is concerned, I wanted to experience more of the festival scene, all the posters and bunting and flags and noise and food smells. That sort of thing. I wanted to be immersed in the bustling crowds that were hinted at, but instead, we get a couple of talks in the Big tent, and a few scenes in the green room. Most of the book takes place between Wyveridge Hall and a pub or two, and I felt like I was missing out.

The revelation scene (two chapters’ worth) was dragged out. I’d just read the whole novel, I didn’t need an in-depth recap to go with it. Meadowes gives it the Agatha Christie all-suspects-together treatment, after he’d told Pria he just had to do things that way, because reasons. But after I’d read it, I was left thinking… but why? He could have just told the police. Instead, he made sure everyone’s secrets got out for no reason. And speaking of Agatha Christie, McCrum drops in a big fat spoiler for one of her books. The audacity! Who does that?? That’s like someone in the magic circle revealing how a trick is done. Definitely have to deduct some points for that.

If you’re a fan of Alex Pine’s books, I think you’d get along well with this. (And where I’d get the killer early on in one of his books, I got all the way to chapter 26 before I worked out who it was. Mainly because I was waiting for one of the characters that had been suspiciously absent for most of the book to turn up again, but no) so I only had ten more chapters and an afterword to get through.) If you do read The Festival Murders and are keen for more, you’re in luck, because it’s the start of a series. Not one I plan on completing, though.

⭐⭐⭐

Rating: 2.5 out of 5.

UNCLE PAUL

The holiday has begun. In a seaside caravan resort, Isabel and her sister, Meg, build sandcastles with the children, navigate deckchair politics, explore the pier’s delights, gorge on ice cream in the sun. But their half-sister, Mildred, has returned to a nearby coastal cottage where her husband – the mysterious Uncle Paul – was arrested for attempted murder of his first wife.

Now, on his release from prison, is Uncle Paul returning for revenge, seeking who betrayed him, uncovering the family’s skeletons? Or are all three women letting their nerves get the better of them? Though who really is Meg’s new lover? And whose are those footsteps…?

I wasn’t sure what I was getting with Uncle Paul. A cosy crime? The cover definitely seemed to suggest this (especially with the little blood splatter in the corner), but the blurb felt reminiscent of The Feast, particularly with the seaside setting and morose characters. Fortunately, in comparison, Uncle Paul is written with considerably more humour and more likeable characters.

Meg is the youngest sister of three, and burdened with a degree of common sense that sees her expected to be the responsible one for her older sisters. Isabel, the worrisome mother to two young boys and a husband that causes her to panic at the mention of his name, has taken the kids to a caravan holiday by the seaside, where she discovers her half-sister Mildred is also in the area, and fearing for her life at the thought of her husband’s return. Isabel asks Meg to come to the caravan park to help her with Mildred, and she does, surprised when she’s soon joined by Freddie, her charming, yet suspicious new boyfriend, who, for reasons unknown, has joined them.

With her sister’s shared fears of Uncle Paul’s return, is Meg swept up in their overactive imaginations, or is there a real threat closing in? Because fear is contageous, and when she finds herself with nowhere else to go but the forboding cottage where Uncle Paul committed murder, Mildred’s concerns are no longer a laughing matter. And what’s in the creepy wardrobe? And why is Freddy really there?

But it’s not all fear and speculation! There are fun and recognisable characters in the other holidaymakers, from the sweetnatured and chivalrous Captain Cockerill, to the annoying little know-it-all Cedric, and the nosey, yet well meaning Mrs Hutchins.

Subjectively, you could argue not a lot happens in the book. There’s a lot of going from the hotel to the cottage to the beach to the hotel again…all a bit samey, but at no point did it feel like nothing was happening, because the story’s focus is on the family’s past, and the relationship between the three sisters.

Uncle Paul is engaging and suspenseful, with good characterisation, dry humour, and a twisty ending. It’s an expertly crafted psychological novel with a stunning cover. A perfect summer read, and ideal for fans of Golden Age crime.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Rating: 5 out of 5.