The Green Capsule

Death in the Dusk – Virgil Markham (1925)

The Devil Drives by Virgil Markham stands out as one of my fonder memories of reading this genre. What on the surface appears to be a somewhat pulpy hardboiled thriller takes hard swerves in a number of unforeseen directions, culminating in one of the most bizarre locked room murders that I’ve ever read. It’s one of those novels that leaves you thinking “what on earth did I just read”, somewhat in the vein of The Red Right Hand, Rim of the Pit, or The Stingaree Murders.

Finishing it, I was desperate for more Virgil Markham. Unfortunately, the rest of his library is long out of print and regularly goes in the $250-1000 range, which is well beyond anything that I’d consider buying. I did track down a cheap copy of The Rogue’s Road, but a cursory glance suggests it may be a medieval fantasy story, and so it sits unread on my shelf.

The Double Thirteen Mystery – Anthony Wynne (1926)

One of my favorite reads last year was Murder of a Lady by Anthony Wynne. Not only was it highly readable, but it featured a series of truly puzzling impossible crimes. The good news – Anthony Wynne released nearly 30 mystery novels, and I’ve heard that he focused on impossible crimes. The bad news – Murder of a Lady is the only Wynne novel you’re likely to get your hands on, as he seems to be one of those forgotten authors.

Until now. Within the past year or so four Wynne novels have been reprinted, three of them by Spitfire Publishers. I’ve collected all but one, and I’m somewhat diving into uncharted territory as I haven’t seen reviews of these (save for one over at Cross Examining Crime).

The Sleeping Bacchus – Hilary St George Saunders (1952)

Ah, my great white whale. Well, in this case, it is more a White Circle. Pocket Edition, that is. I’ve been steadily hunting for The Sleeping Bacchus for about five years, and I’ve never come close to spotting it for sale. Not in the original hardback form, nor in the White Circle Pocket Edition from Collins Canada that I so desperately desired. I’m not aware of any other editions existing.

The Sleeping Bacchus first came on my radar thanks to a review over at Beneath the Stains of Time. I also recall a brief mention in the essay introducing the legendary Locked Room Library, a collection of top impossible crime novels. The Sleeping Bacchus has a reputation for featuring multiple impossible crimes, one of which apparently being so clever that it was borrowed from an untranslated French mystery. I had to read it.

The Red Death Murders – Jim Noy (2022)

When holiday season rolls around and I finally get some concentrated time off work, I like to splurge a bit and dive into books that I know are likely a guaranteed top read. That typically translates to impossible crime novels by the likes of Locked Room International, Pushkin Vertigo, and Ramble House. Last year, a more modern author made their way into the lineup, with James Scott Byrnside cementing his name as must read material. And this year I take a chance with another contemporary writer, Jim Noy.

The Red Death Murders is Noy’s first novel, although he has past experience in the book industry by graciously bringing forth reprints of once obscure Theodore Roscoe novels, Murder on the Way and I’ll Grind Their Bones (thereby introducing me to one of my favorite Golden Age authors). More importantly, Noy has established himself as a must read reviewer and critic of impossible crimes and fair play mysteries. He’s my favorite writer when it comes to GAD blogging, with an easy style and spot on humor, but does that translate to being able to actually crafty a compelling mystery novel?

The Dogs Do Bark – Jonathan Stagge (1936)

The Dogs Do Bark is the first of nine novels published under the Jonathan Stagge brand by the Patrick Quentin writing collective of Richard Webb and Hugh Wheeler. The Stagge name received some attention back around 2018 when Death’s Old Sweet Song became all the rage for a short time. It’s a serial killer mystery with a high body count, and while I found it to be lacking, it did come together a bit at the end. The rest of the Stagge library is spottily available in eBook format, but fairly rare for an affordable price in physical form, unless you’re going for the final novel The Three Fears.

The lack of availability of affordable copies could be one reason the rest of the Stagge library doesn’t get any attention, but honestly, it’s probably because these books just suck. Death, My Darling Daughters is a forgettable dud, and Turn of the Table is equally as bland. But man, despite disappointing repeatedly, I’m back with The Dogs Do Bark because… it has a really nice cover, is impossible to find for less than $70, and I snagged it for less than $10. That makes sense, right?

The Gold Watch – Paul Halter (2019)

Nothing like a Paul Halter novel to bring me back to life. When The Gold Watch first dropped in 2019, the big headline was that the author had written a new novel – following a five year gap – and that it was being published in English immediately. That we got the new novel in English was the real news, as English translations of Halter’s work up to that point had focused on novels that were decades old. That there was any gap in the author’s output was somewhat irrelevant to non-French speakers… er, readers.

While there is always excitement surrounding the one or two Halter translations that we get from Locked Room International each year, I don’t recall reviews at the time touting this as must read, and I have the impression that the previous publication – The Man Who Loved Clouds – may have received a more enthusiastic reception. Now, that’s probably just my memory being poor, but I’m intrigued by that recollection because I’ve recently seen several comments that The Gold Watch features a footprints in the snow impossibility that may be among Halter’s best. And that’s a pretty bold statement to make for the modern master of impossibilities. The solution to the main puzzle in The Demon of Dartmoor is likely his gold standard: explaining how a man could be pushed out of a high window despite multiple witnesses insisting that no-one ever came near him. The explanation is so simple, and comes from a completely different direction than the reader is likely to have considered. It’s the elegantly simple solutions that knock you back the most.

Murder and the Married Virgin – Brett Halliday (1944)

A 2021 post about The Anthony Boucher Chronicles over at Cross Examining Crime tipped me off to some (now) obscure locked room mysteries that Boucher had reviewed back in the day. I first tried my luck with One of These Seven, which turned out to be a pretty vapid pulp mystery that didn’t even feature an impossible crime (there may have been a door that was technically locked, but no question about how anyone could have gained access). Fortunately, my next attempt – Murder and the Married Virgin – does indeed feature an impossibility. A woman seemingly has committed suicide by gassing herself in her bedroom after locking herself inside. It’s a locked room mystery if you accept that the death wasn’t actually suicide.

That the locked room murder comes into play fairly early in the story is promising, as it provides plenty of ground to turn the puzzle upside down and inside out. Unfortunately, Murder and the Married Virgin is not a puzzle-focused mystery. It’s a novel about private eye Mike Shayne, hired by an insurance company to investigate a stolen necklace. Mike Shayne is the absolute definition of the generic American private eye. He’s a trench coat wearing, liquor swigging brute that woman can’t resist. That includes his plucky secretary, and there’s a sexual tension that will inevitably simmer just below the surface throughout the entire series. If Mike Shayne has any traits that stand out, they’re his red hair and the fact that cognac is his booze of choice. Beyond that, it’s pure stereotype, as Shayne inevitably gets knocked out, framed, arrested, and ultimately clears his name. I sense that happens in every one of his books.

Easy to Kill (Murder is Easy) – Agatha Christie (1939)

Easy to Kill was first serialized during the winter of 1938, around the time that Hercule Poirot’s Christmas was published. It was released as a novel the following summer, sharing the publication year with one of Christie’s most famous stories, And Then There Were None. That seemed like a fertile setting for a potential quality read, and so Easy to Kill is next in my near random “I think I’ll read this one” tour of Christie’s library.

I went into Easy to Kill knowing nothing at all about the story, which is something I like to do more these days. And that worked out great, because by the end of the first chapter I’d walked into a hell of a hook. I’m definitely a fan of Christie, but I I wouldn’t tout her for her hooks. She’s not like the John Dickson Carr of the 1930s-40s who throws down “I have to find out where this goes” opening chapters (see To Wake the Dead, The Judas Window, The Ten Teacups, to name a few). Instead we typically experience a few chapters of snuggling comfortably into a story before being presented with a somewhat cut and dry murder that later ends up to be anything but. That’s not a criticism in any way – I always love melting into a Christie novel – it’s simply a different experience.

A Kiss Before Dying – Ira Levin (1953)

A big thanks to Aidan at Mysteries Ahoy for championing this book and putting it on my radar. I probably recognize the title from vaguely being aware of the 1991 film adaptation staring Matt Dillon. I realize I just lost two thirds of my reading audience with that statement; a portion shouting out an outraged comment about Robert Wagner, and the rest being stupefied that a movie was the first thing that came to mind when hearing the title. But yeah, this is a book where I definitely recognized the title as something well established in culture, without ever realizing it was a classic mystery.

Although it’s not really a mystery; maybe more of a spiraling episodic thriller in the Cornell Woolrich sense. But, damn, I loved every dark page of it. Unfortunately, as with many of the well done spiraling thrillers, you can’t really say much about the plot, because the fun is in trying to get a sense of where it’s going to take you. Case in point: the story starts with a college romance leading to an accidental pregnancy. He doesn’t want to keep the baby, while she wants to get married. The boyfriend toys around with the thought of ridding himself of “the problem” via a fool proof murder. Where does this lead? The obvious answer is an inverted murder mystery. Clever me thought that maybe the girlfriend bumps off the boyfriend in a startling twist.

The Hollow Man (The Three Coffins) – John Dickson Carr (1935)

Let me know when you’ve found another book that throws down the gauntlet in the opening stretch like this one does. The Problem of the Wire Cage? The Judas Window? The Red Widow Murders? Maybe. I scan my bookshelves and I struggle to find a book that comes out with as solid of an opening as The Hollow Man.

There are plenty of mystery novels that start strong. I’ll write you a whole post on the first sentence of Rim of the Pit or The Red Right Hand if you want. Those are perfect opening sentences, and the paragraphs that follow them are fine as well. There are also books with storming opening chapters; see the suffocatingly impossible hellscape we’re confronted with in chapter one of The Judas Window.