Stage Door Enquiries - theatrical mystery and prop guns from Derek Smith

Come to Paddington Fair by Derek Smith

published 1997 (written earlier)

 

Recently we had elaborate discussion of (and many comments on) theatrical murders, particularly those where the prop weapons go wrong:

Theatrical Murders, and a Trial in Three Acts

--with more posts later.

Theatricals ahoy: Vintage Murder

Death by Theatre: Quick Curtain by Alan Melville

We have also had a diversion into theatrical overcoats –

Q: What makes an overcoat theatrical?

 the astrakhan collar is the key (though they don’t feature here).

 

Come to Paddington Fair  demands to be added to the list. And btw I think that a superb title, very enticing: it is contained in anonymous letters in the book… we wonder what it can mean.

I first read it nearly 10 years ago but didn’t blog on it, though I did do a post on the same author’s Whistle up the Devil. (This one wasn’t published until 1997, but would seem to have been written in the 1950s, a few years after Whistle.)

It is an absolute ur-text of the genre. For a start, it has an excellent structure for a theatrical mystery – this from the contents page:

PART ONE                            THE CURTAIN RISES 

PART TWO                            THE STAGE IS SET            

PART THREE                        THE CURTAIN FALLS

--so you know you’re in safe hands.

And if you were in any doubt, this passage immediately shouts out to props-mystery connoisseurs:  

“He’ll give you hell too if you don’t take him those blank cartridges soon.” Wix scowled. “He’s an old woman sometimes. Doesn’t trust anyone with that revolver but himself. I bring him the blanks every day, don’t I?”

You know where we are going…

The leading lady in a West End play is very unpopular and has a shady past. During the Saturday matinee performance, her leading man (in real life and on stage) has to shoot her with a gun loaded with blanks. We also have a strong suspicion that there is a man in a front box at the theatre who wants his revenge on her.

I don’t think it’s a

 

SPOILER

 

to say that she ends up dead. But was it the man in the box, or her co-star Michael? Or one of five or six other people involved on or near the stage? Various guns and bullets are traced and tracked – one bullet ended up in a large stuffed bear, a feature of the set. Cartridges were found in the sand of the fire bucket.

Smith’s sleuth is Algy Lawrence – an amateur who helps Scotland Yard on an informal basis.

I cannot say I was entranced by Smith’s writing style. Too many adverbs and adjectives:

He cursed again wearily, then raised his slimly built, athletic young body from the warmly inviting water and scrambled out of the bath. Kicking wet feet into shabbily comfortable slippers, he draped a towel round his dripping thighs and tramped unhappily through the adjoining bedroom.

Requires a good editor and a red pencil.

And honestly, most of the investigation – the sad middle section – was as dull as a Ngaio Marsh novel, the ultimate insult. But, the book redeems itself in the final section. All the questioning  establishes  an ever-decreasing window in which the exchange of bullets could have happened. Eventually the theoretical window vanishes: it is an impossible crime. But Algy is very clever and works it out, and the plot and plan are impeccable - I was super-impressed by the explanation.

Even better – eventually Algy calls for a reconstruction of the events on stage that day, and here is the stage manager:

Standing with his back to the footlights—the curtain had not been lowered—he looked round the set, making a final check. Then he went to his post in the prompt corner. His voice boomed hollowly: “Clear, please!”

Then— “Stand by!”

And finally— “Curtain up!”

The last performance began.

If your heart doesn’t thrill to that, you’re dead inside.

There wasn’t much in the way of clothes.

She was simply and unobtrusively dressed, and there was very little make-up on her lovely face. She was wearing a beret and a belted raincoat and her fingers were pressed hard on a plain grey handbag. 

And

When they reached the dressing-room they found the girl in her dressing-gown. She had removed most of her make-up. Her skin was almost translucent. She was glowing with an inner excitement; and she was very beautiful.

And possibly only one attempt at a joke:

She smiled with complete understanding. She said softly: “Don’t take Herbert too seriously.” Her mouth curved gaily. “He’s a lycanthropist.”

“A—what?” 

Trudy Ann explained: “He only thinks he’s a wolf.”

But none of that really matters – it is a classic theatrical mystery, and well worth skimming through the middle bits to reach one of the best impossible crime endings you could wish for.

Christine Poulson has blogged on this one, as has Steve at In Search of the Classic Mystery Novel

 

Stage door by Sam Hood

 

Norwegian stuffed bear from Preus Museum

https://www.flickr.com/photos/statelibraryofnsw/3273709226/.

 

Actors rehearsing  Sam Hood

Woman in dressing room is actually the ballerina Anna Pavlova, Library of Congress