The Doctor and the Corpse by Max Murray

 

The Doctor and the Corpse by Max Murray

published 1953

Susan was on deck, looking, as usual, like Miss America, or Miss Campus or Miss something or other. It made her different from the rest. She was stretched out in a deckchair pretending, and only pretending, to read. She was a girl waiting for something to happen, good or bad, but something…

‘Hello, sleuth’ she said. ‘What gives?’ Those may not have been the words, but they gave him that impression.

 

I’ve enjoyed all the Max Murray books that I’ve read, and am delighted that Galileo Press is reprinting some of them.

This one was somewhat different from the others – not as funny and light-hearted, but very compelling.

It has a great setup, and takes place entirely on the docks in Singapore. A chartered yacht is moored there, and the very wealthy man who is organizing the trip writes to the local police to say he is in fear of his life. A colonial officer, Michael West, heads out to the ship to see him and – no surprises here – he is too late: Everitt Stock is dead.

The crime has to be investigated, and the ship is trapped in Singapore, in burning heat, until the killer is found. West is forced into an uneasy partnership with Stock’s private physician, Dr Glen Andrews, while not wholly trusting him. There is also the ship’s doctor – Professor Licori, aged and close to incapable – a feisty red-haired nurse, and a mother and daughter combo from Stock’s home town.

It becomes more and more apparent that Stock is an appalling character, and that the world is well rid of him. His intricate web of relationships with those on board is slowly brought out.

I had inexpert problems with the size of the boat: as well as the guests, and the crew, there was also a set of other people – Dutch nationals returning from the Far East to their home – who had in some way been cheated by Stock. They are crammed into unsuitable and over-crowded quarters. We only get a passing acquaintance with them, with the exception of their leader, and one particular young woman.

This all makes for a claustrophobic and uneasy atmosphere over the couple of days of the investigation: the heat, and the uncomfortable living situation, rack up the tension. There is more illness, a baby being born, various medicines to be tracked down, possibilities of poison. Many of the cast of characters are eyeing up members of the opposite sex, and getting cross with each other, and wondering whom they can trust. Everyone has a motive for something.

In the end it is all resolved, not wholly surprisingly, and soon the ship will sail.

I’m trying to think how to explain how unusual the book is – it has a jerky structure, changes of POV, and sudden dives in odd directions. In his other books, Murray gives the air of standing back from his characters and taking a relaxed easy attitude to the unfolding events: but this is not the case here.

The top quote is typical of the strange style – ‘those may not have been the words’? This seems an odd construction.

But it makes for a readable and compelling story.

The colour picture is from a great favourite resource, Florida Memories – I wrote about it in an earlier Max Murray entry, where the Florida connection was not, as here, non-existent. I just thought this was a great photo, even though from 1961.

Medical personnel aboard a hospital ship, 1940 - but having a look of the characters in this book -  Australian National Maritime Archives.

Nurse and patient aboard a hospital ship, 1951, Navy Medicine via Flickr.

Photographs of the main wharf in Singapore from UK National Archives.