Painted Ladies and yet more Fancy Dress

The Case of the Painted Ladies by Brian Flynn

published 1940

 

 

 

After looking at Fancy Dress parties for Bodies from the Library, I heard from Steve Barge aka the Puzzle Doctor with a recommendation for a Brian Flynn book, The Orange Axe. So I featured that one as the late arrival at the Fancy Dress Ball, with a shoutout to wonderful publishers Dean St Press.

At which point, Steve said to DSP ‘shall we tell her about the Painted Ladies?’ – so here I am with another Flynn book and aNOTHER Fancy Dress Ball.

This has a splendid setup – almost too many favourite features. Wealthy businessman Aubrey Coventry arranges a 2am meeting with a mysterious millionaire, goes to see a fortune teller who says she sees ‘no future for him’, and then goes off to a fancy dress ball dressed as monk.

Well. Almost too much plot, and neither a spoiler nor a surprise to tell you that Mr C will be dead by the following day…

Series sleuth Anthony Bathurst is on hand to help Scotland Yard with the poshos, and an intriguing investigation follows: there is a mysterious man who was dressed in blue overalls and snarled, and everyone’s costumes and alibis get a going over.

So first of all – the palmist

Beyond the screen he saw the usual appointments of the commonplace palmist. Madame Zylphara sat at a square table upon which stood the inevitable globe of crystal. She was short and stout. Her hair was black. Her eyes were blacker.

The picture is an old favourite from the Library of Congress – it actually shows Potiphar’s wife (ie from the Old Testament story of Joseph) but she is plainly dabbling in the arts with her crystal ball.

Madam Bianca Zylphara is operating at a church fete, and I had a fellow-feeling as I several times played Madam Fortunata at my children’s school fete - -though I was very careful what I said to people, and most certainly did not do as happens here: “For you there is no future. I cannot say any more than that. Will you please go?” I mean!

Later, Bathurst goes to visit her, as does another character – I could have done with even more of her, she was an excellent addition to the story.

(All this is reminiscent of another recent GA read: the Moray Dalton book The Belgrave Manor Crime)

Now, the fancy dress ball:  It is the Seven Arts Ball at Dorset House. My wide reading on this subject tells me that sometimes it is the 3 Arts Ball and sometimes 4 Arts, and sometimes Chelsea Arts. This is my first encounter with 7 Arts…

As ever, I can only recommend this splendid webpage for astounding pictures of the real thing. I believe I am not able to use the photos.

Aubrey Coventry is dressed in a monk’s robe, sandals and tonsured wig. He is in an all-male party, and these are his friends-and-relations:

Peter Crayle was attired as a discus thrower. Palmer made a magnificent buccaneer, whilst Philip Coventry, giving vent to his usual flair for originality, had come as Captain Kettle, that superb creation of Cutcliffe Hyne’s.

Captain Kettle was the key figure in a popular series of magazine stories of the era: he looked like this

 

.. and there is a sort of joke in the book where the man in his costume says ‘And I’m certainly O.K. Which is all to the good.’ – Kettle’s first name is Owen.

There’s quite a lot of description of the ball – always a good thing in my view, though not always the case, so full marks for Flynn – and mentions of a shepherdess, and a woman dressed as Ink.

In my notes I say ‘brisk opening, lots to conjure with.’

The investigators go to the Vermilion Lizard nightclub to check up

I remember the gentleman quite well... Directly he came in, I reckoned as how he’d been along to the ‘Seven Arts’ do at Dorset House from the look of him. Several of ’em had dropped in here at various times. Usually do those nights. They made quite a splash of colour here, I can tell you. Usually we begin to drop off a bit round about two o’clock in the morning, but the ‘Seven Arts’ crowd caused us to be quite busy that evening.

The dead man leaves a widow, Susanna, and I am still grappling with this paragraph about her:

She was both well and tastefully dressed. It struck Anthony as he looked at her, that she was probably a willing victim of her own inspiration, and that when she was victimized it usually ran her, like the Gadarene swine, violently down a steep place.

I have no idea what this means.

I have a couple of questions about the plot – it seems that Silas must have had an American accent, and that might be important, but that doesn’t seem to bother anyone?

Meanwhile, the common people all talk in excruciating rhyming slang, some of which seems to be made up by Flynn: I found this deeply suspicious (ie I thought these characters could not be who they said they were, because their dialogue was unreal) but I wasn’t necessarily correct. I expect Flynn thought he was doing a good job with his version of London life. And, the blessed Bathurst says things like ‘Don’t like an over-plus of mere presumption.’

I was interested that one man refers to a good-looking young woman as a ‘bird’ – I think of that as being from a later era. But what he says is strange. “Some bird—I’ll say. What a lovely drop of homework!” I was not convinced that this, homework, is a real phrase in this context, but then surprisingly (having failed to find it anywhere online used in this way) it turned up in another book I was reading, from the 1950s... 

The woman referred to is a filmstar called Vere Valentine (her married name would seem to be Vere Sere…) ‘a remarkably attractive woman.’ (Picture shows Helen Twelvetrees, an Australian filmstar of the era.)

With all this going on, you would be hard pushed to guess who exactly are the Painted Ladies of the title.

There is a quite unusual section set during a BBC radio quiz show, featuring both real people and literary detectives created by other writers – Steve’s blogpost on the book will tell you more about this unique scenario.

There is an impersonation involved in the plot which even I (who will believe any old rubbish in this area) boggled at: I was saying ‘no hang on, no surely, but what about…?’ I went back and reread some relevant passages, and it all sounded even less likely and believable, but Flynn rushed briskly on, he didn’t even imply it was a major part of the plot.

And I would say even a careful reader would have trouble solving the crime. But for all that, a very good enjoyable read.

b/w costume party – from a Finnish university in the 1940s.

But I felt I need a colour picture too – poster for a film called Those Who Dance, a 1924 film that I have raided several times for the blog. I am particularly fond of the picture in this post, but this one seemed to fit this book, what with the rough-looking man who is such a feature….

Drawing of elegant lady from a French fashion mag of the era.