Midsummer Murder by Cecil M Wills

 Midsummer Murder by Cecil M Wills

 

published 1956

 

 

[excerpt] Tolbay Park lay in the centre of Storminster and was both its pride and its pain in the neck. The pride stemmed from the extent of the grounds and the orderly beds well filled with all the most ordinary and unpleasing bedding-out plants. In addition there was an artificial lake at the heart of the park, containing an island on which was built a rustic summerhouse.

The pain in the neck came from the fact that the surrounding railings had been removed during World War II and, owing to the need for economy, had never been replaced.

 

comments: Cecil M Wills is one of those mid-20^th Century crime authors who wrote many books, and had enough popularity to keep on writing and being published, but never became famous, and is close to forgotten. He is somewhat unlucky: the very slightly better-known Golden Age author Clifford Witting wrote a book with the same name in 1937, and Midsomer Murders (spelled differently) means a contemporary, and unconnected, TV series to most people.

However! One great aspect of the internet era is that there is room for such authors and their books to be rediscovered and republished (in this case by Galileo publishing) and give us the chance to make up our own minds. I had scarcely heard of him, but was delighted to make the acquaintance of this one, which I thought a most enjoyable and superior crime story.

It takes place in a believable and well-drawn cathedral town, Storminster, with all kinds of community activities – municipal and church-based – and small snobberies and class distinctions.

The miserable meanness of the circle of church-y (and thus presumably Christian) woman is clearly shown, and is reminiscent of that in Dorothy Bowers Fear for Miss Betony, where the title character is not considered enough of a gentlewoman to be given a place in an almshouse.

In a recently-read Brian Flynn book, a character refers to a woman as “a lovely drop of homework”, which sounded unlikely to me, but it turns up here as well, and I have to withdraw my accusation that Flynn made the slang phrase up.

“That Battersby girl—Helen, isn’t she—has turned into a nice piece of homework”....

Presently the garden gate opened and a pretty girl, wearing a yellow jumper, green slacks and a cherry coloured beret, stepped across the pavement towards the car.

 

The top picture (see below for more on its provenance) has a look of the town’s park: though I’m guessing is Kensington Gardens. It has a busy daytime look, and much of the park action in the book is in the dark – but yes, I feel justified because there were a lot of people coinciding there that night. I have been known to call this the ‘How many people were in the graveyard that night?’ question.

And Wills has worked nicely on that setup - following on from the top quote:

The elders [of the city council] pursed their lips and shook their heads. All well-conducted parks, they affirmed, should be closed at latest at ten o’clock at night. But how could they close a park that had no railings? Not even so much as a chestnut paling surround?

Which removes the barriers (metaphorical and real) to murder and many other unrestrained goings-on in the park.

There are proper clues: a chromium-plated compact near the body, sightings of a woman in a scarlet coat.

There are poison pen letters, always a favourite round here. The court case near the end slowed down the action, was quite boring, and added little, and I was surprised by this:

we’ll get the local radio station to put in a bit before the news tonight asking the woman who telephoned us to come forward.

-      I don’t believe there was any local radio in the UK at that time.

But in general it was a most enjoyable proper crime story, true to both its actual era and setting, and also to the spirit of the Golden Age.

And two extra things – I’m always fascinated by

What senior clerics wear 

The question of  gaiters came up in this blogpost a while back, and there are some good pictures there. So even though the bishop is not a major character, I liked this:                   

[His wife speaking:] "How you have the patience to bother with those fiddling little things I never can imagine. They’d drive me mad!” 

The bishop raised his round and smiling face, somewhat suffused by stooping, and chuckled. “We must be thankful for small mercies. Suppose I’d been born a ‘Roman’! Those soutanes must have many more buttons than a mere pair of gaiters. You know,” he continued as he laid the button-hook on the dressing table and lit a cigarette, “I have at times thought of starting a fashion in zip fasteners. But I’m afraid there would be adverse comment from some of the dear old ladies. Might as well scrap breeches altogether and wear trousers—if the gaiters are to lose their buttons. Like taking the cords out of the episcopal hat.”

“Or dispensing with the apron, I suppose,” agreed his wife with a smile. “And, if the truth must be told, I think the clothes become you very well, my dear.” The bishop glanced at his well rounded stomach over which the apron spread smoothly.

 

 

And now, a Diversion on John Verney

The top picture is from an unusual source: I was and am a huge fan of John Verney’s children’s books – particularly the excellent February’s Road – and his son Sebastian (‘I’m the boy standing on his head’) has visited the blog a few times when I have posted on him. Because  of my interest, he very kindly included  me in a send-out of a set of covers the older Verney did for a magazine for young people, and this splendid example is one of them, from March 1948.

Verney is one of those authors who probably won’t be revived, his characters will be seen as too privileged and non-inclusive. But for some of us the story-telling totally transcended that, as I discuss here, and I love it that fellow-fans turn up at my old blogposts occasionally. One, Mary George, informed me of her most enjoyable podcast on children’s books of the past, Rereading our Childhood, and I loved listening to the epi on February’sRoad

The keenness of some fans is very similar to the love some of us have for the school stories of Antonia Forest.

Woman in yellow and a beret is actually the filmstar Vera-Ellen, from the Vivat Vintage Tumbler.

Picture, from National Library of Ireland, shows an Irish bishop in the 1920s, so 30 years earlier, but a good idea of what he would have been wearing.