Friday means Friday’s Forgotten Books
with Patti Abbott hosted here later today. Patrick Ohl is back and his obsession
with the Golden Age continues….
Lady Misterton was a general pain in the
derrière to everyone she came into
contact with. But on this occasion, she really crossed the limit. While driving
through Windsor Great Park, she commanded her chauffeur, William Fitchley, to
pull over. She had forgotten her handbag back at her residence, Clandown
Towers. However, she orders the chauffeur to walk the three-and-a-half miles back to fetch the bag. Fitchley
walks off obediently as Lady Misterton sat down and began to knit, while a
portable wireless radio played Saint-Saens’ Danse
Macabre. When Fitchley arrived at Clandown Towers, he found out that Lady
Misterton had taken her bag with her after all…
Furious, Fitchley decides to dally on
the way back and stops at a pub for a “quick one”. Unfortunately, when he
exits, he fails to notice an oncoming vehicle. He is hit and hospitalized… But
what about Lady Misterton?
Unfortunately, the old broa—er, lady, failed to recognize the signs that
she was trapped in a mystery. She was, perhaps, at a slight disadvantage, since
Jonathan Creek was not around yet to
use Danse Macabre as its theme song.
However, that doesn’t change the fact that a few hours later, Lady Misterton
was found dead in her car, and the cause of death cannot be determined. This
forms the plot of John Rhode’s The Corpse
in the Car…
Why yes, the book is an impossible crime
of sorts, as Dr. Lancelot Priestley is called in to determine how an assassin
can strike someone down at will without leaving any traces behind. And what a
job Priestley does! The method employed has a diabolical ingenuity underlying
it, and the doctor does a bang-up job deducing whodunit, how, and constructing
a solid case for the prosecution. Unfortunately, as is often the case with John
Rhode, the murderer’s identity is extremely easy to spot. However, that doesn’t
change the cleverness demonstrated by the rest of the plot, which had me
completely fooled. It also doesn’t hurt that I really like tricks in this
general vein.
However, this book contains more than a
good plot. I venture to say that it is invaluable
for exposing the lie inherent in the idea that Golden Age authors were always
romanticizing the upper class. John Rhode is absolutely relentless towards Lady Misterton. She is a genuinely disturbing
person at times— she professes herself to be a lover of cats. There’s no harm
in that, right? Well… this adoration goes to such lengths that whenever one of
her cats dies, she has it stuffed and added to a macabre collection of stuffed
cats, of which there are 42 (!!!). While alive, she did her best to distance
herself from fellow human beings as much as possible, showing an incredible
snobbery that Rhode certainly does not approve of!
Other upper class characters are
similarly skewered, particularly Lady Misterton’s brother, Mr. Ormskirk. Nastiness
seems to run in the family, as he is only concerned with how he can profit by
his sister’s death… now that she’s dead, that is. While she was alive, he was
only concerned with what a fool she was being, paying attention to a charming
young fellow who professed himself to be a fellow lover of cats. Lady
Misterton’s niece, Emily Higson, is portrayed with sympathy— she married a
clerk in a legal office who isn’t particularly rich, but they have a decent
life together. But Lady Misterton couldn’t stand
him, for the simple reason that he didn’t have money. Lady Misterton was able
to marry into money, why couldn’t her niece do the same thing?
Then there’s the chauffeur Fitchley, who
was hired specifically because his father was a taxidermist and thus, Lady
Misterton could continue having her cats stuffed for a meagre 30 shillings a
week. Fitchley is ruthlessly exploited by Lady Misterton and he is far more
sympathetic— he’s a clever, resourceful fellow who knows how to use his brains.
The only reason he’s stuck in her service is because he was desperate for money
and there isn’t much of a market for taxidermy any more. The character reminds
me of a clever child in Rhode’s Death on Sunday, who is ignored by
his mother and disliked by fellow guests at a residential hotel…. But Rhode’s
sympathies seem to lie with the child, who is the only person there doing
anything really worthwhile!
Overall, John Rhode’s The Corpse in the Car is an excellent
book that showcases Rhode’s storytelling talents very well. The plot moves
along very rapidly and has several intriguing threads chasing each other,
involving the theft of one of the stuffed cats and a potential will that may or
may not be missing (assuming it exists). It’s finely-crafted and shows Dr.
Priestley at his scientific best, not letting a single anomaly get by him
without an explanation. If you’ve never read John Rhode and want a good place
to start, this is it.
Patrick Ohl ©2014
Patrick
Ohl is a 20-year old Canadian crime fiction aficionado who enjoys hobbies such
as taxidermy and runs a dilapidated motel in the middle of nowhere alongside
his crazed mother. He enjoys relaxing in his subterranean evil lair while
watching his favourite hockey team, the Toronto Maple Leafs, and will
occasionally make chicken chow mein to die for. His life is accompanied by a
soundtrack composed by John Williams, and James Earl Jones provides occasional
voice-overs.
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