We had our first snowfall of the season a couple of weeks ago and I felt the urge to read something wintry to mark the occasion. Murder in the Falling Snow: Ten Classic Crime Stories seemed like the perfect choice. It wasn’t a bad choice. But if I said every story lived up to its theme of murder in falling snow, I would be lying. Four of these stories contain a reference to snow. Four out of ten stories! However, we shouldn’t be too hasty in our judgment. This is a collection of stories by a number of well-know Golden Age mystery writers, such as, Dorothy L. Sayers, Gladys Mitchel, R. Austin Freeman, and Arthur Conan Doyle. I mean, can you go too far wrong with that kind of line up?
“Haunted House” by Gladys Mitchell
In the first story, a couple move into a house that the landlord claims is haunted. Things are fairly uneventful there until they have a party. A snowstorm strikes as the guests are leaving. Most of them get away, but by the time the last person is ready to leave, the drifts are too high. It just so happens that the last guest is the landlord. The husband suggests he stay the night, and take the couple’s bedroom, while they sleep downstairs. Let’s just say not everyone wakes up in the morning! This one was short but atmospheric.
“Sleuths on the Scent” by Dorothy L. Sayers
A group of people hole up in a roadside pub in a snowstorm. While listening to the radio for the weather report, they hear a special bulletin about Gerald Beeton who is wanted in connection with the murder of a woman named Alice Stewart. He is described as “thirty-five, medium height, medium, build, fair hair, small moustache, grey or blue eyes, full face, fresh colour” and driving a Morris car (15). Well, this describes just about fifty percent of the men in England, and so I think we know exactly where this is going. But this one was funny and engaging nonetheless. And there is snow, so it’s a win-win!
“Mr Pointing’s Alibi” by R. Austin Freeman
Reverend Charles Meade calls on a medical professional for help regarding some threats his fiancée, a woman of independent means, Miss Millicent Fawcett, has received. When she is found dead in suspicious circumstances, our medical professional and detective, see the subtle clues that show it can only be foul play. R. Austin Freeman wrote, Mr. Pottermack’s Oversight, the first British Library Crime Classic that I was lucky enough to receive from the British Library, and the intricate way in which the mystery is solved in that book reminded me of this short story of his.
No mention of snow in this one, but we do get an atmospheric description of a November night around the Inns of Court and the welcoming room the characters have left behind.
I would much sooner have sat by the fire with a book than turn out into the murk of a November night. But I felt it necessary, especially as Thorndyke had evidently made up his mind. Accordingly I made a virtue of necessity; and a couple of minutes later we had exchanged the cosy room for the chilly darkness of Inner Temple Lane, up which the gratified parson was speeding ahead to capture a taxi. At the top of the Lane we perceived him giving elaborate instructions to a taxi driver as he held the door of the cab open; and Thorndyke, having carefully disposed of his research-case — which, to my secret amusement, he had caught up, from mere force of habit, as we started — took his seat, and Meade and I followed. (28)
I can perfectly imagine the chilly, damp London night described above and how it contrasts with the safety and warmth our narrator has left behind. I appreciate Freeman’s descriptions and ability to set a scene and in my limited experience with this author I have found his spinning out of the solving of the mystery is both smart and satisfying.
“Meeting in the Snow” by Julian Symons
Short, and not at all sweet. A wealthy man is found shot to death in his home by an unknown assailant. The suspects? His three dependents. What I didn’t love about this one was the comments about Geoffrey Landon being “ladylike” and “not liking to get his feet wet”. I would like to know if anyone actually does like to get wet feet when they are wearing shoes and socks? Of course, we can forgive Symons the distasteful description of one of his characters, because these were different times. However, I do find that when I come across this sort of thing it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, which undoubtedly will affect my over enjoyment of the piece.
What I did love about this one was the scene setting at the beginning.
The snow fell thick and sudden out of a sky that looked like lead. A furious gale sprung from nowhere drove the snowflakes against the windscreen of Francis Quarles’s new car. He was gratified to observe that the defroster defrosted, but even so it was not easy to see his way in this world of whirling white. He took a wrong turn, stopped, reversed, and stopped again to look at his map and at his watch. It was now four o’clock and snow had been falling for only an hour, but the road and the surrounding fields were already quite thick. (58)
Snow falling is what I am here for, and, in that regard, this story gave me the goods.
“The Chopham Affair” by Edgar Wallace
Snow was falling now, real snow. It came down in small particles, falling so thickly that it seemed that a fog lay on the land. (81)
Two men are found on the night of 24 December shot dead in the snow. One is discovered to be in the business of blackmailing women, and the other has stood on trial for murder. Both men have elaborate matching guns in hand. And coincidently, the man who was on trial for murder is known by the barrister who reports to the scene. And any diligent reader of mysteries or watcher of tv dramas knows to be wary of coincidence when you’re dealing with murder.
Even the dreariest suburb has its West End, and here were villas standing on their own acres — very sedate villas, with porches and porch lamps in wrought-iron and oddly coloured glass, and shaven lawns, and rose gardens swathed in matting, and no two villas were alike. At the far end he saw a red light, and his heart leapt with joy. Christmas — it was to be Christmas after all, with good food and lashings of drink and other manifestations of happiness and comfort peculiarly attractive to Joe Stackett.It looked like a car worth knocking off, even in the darkness. (76)
I love how the author subverts our expectations by painting this idyllic Christmas scene, and making us think that Joe Stackett is full of the Christmas spirit, only to reveal him to be an entirely different person with the next sentence. The scene continues further along.
All the houses were occupied. Bright lights illuminated the casement cloth which covered the windows. He heard the sound of revelry and two gramophones playing dance tunes. But his eyes always came back to the polished limousine at the door of the end house. There was no light there. It was completely dark, from the gabled attic to the ground floor. (76-77)
And with that we know we are dealing with the most bad of baddies, one who would pinch a car on Christmas Eve.
“The Adventure of Abbey Grange” by Arthur Conan Doyle
In this one, we are treated to frost, but no snow. As Conan Doyle’s works are in the public domain in Canada, and I expect most elsewhere too, I’m going to splash out and share a good chunk from opening of this one, because it is just that good.
It was on a bitterly cold and frosty morning, towards the end of the winter of ’97, that I was awakened by a tugging at my shoulder. It was Holmes. The candle in his hand shone upon his eager, stooping face, and told me at a glance that something was amiss.‘Come, Watson, come!’ he cried. ‘The game is afoot. Not a word! Into your clothes and come!’Ten minutes later we were both in a cab, and rattling through the silent streets on our way to Charing Cross Station. The first faint winter’s dawn was beginning to appear, and we could dimly see the occasional figure of an early workman as he passed us, blurred and indistinct in the opalescent London reek. Holmes nestled in silence into his heavy coat, and I was glad to do the same, for the air was most bitter, and neither of us had broken our fast.It was not until we had consumed some hot tea at the station and taken our places in the Kentish train that we were sufficiently thawed, he to speak and I to listen. (83-84)
Sherlock receives a letter requesting his assistance from Inspector Stanley Hopkins. As Hopkins has called on Sherlock seven times in the past, and as Sherlock explains to Watson, “on each occasion his summons has been entirely justified”, which is code for ‘in each case I have been sufficiently diverted to justify the trouble’ (84). And this occasion is no different. One of the riches men in Kent, Sir Eustace Bracknell, has been brutally murdered in his home during a home invasion by a gang of three men. Meanwhile, his wife was gaged and tied to a chair. She was rescued by her loyal maid and both women provide testimony to the crime.
In the past, I have found Conan Doyle’s storytelling to be a bit tedious. My attention wavers just when I’m meant to be glued to the page. There is something about his writing that does not always hit the mark for me. I’m not quite sure what it is. Perhaps, his writing is just a bit self-indulgent? But I really enjoyed this story. It was atmospheric, and had the right level of Holmes being a smarty pants and Watson following him around like a loyal, but slightly dim sighted dog. This one left me wanting to re-watch the Sherlock TV series, which for some reason I always think of as a program best suited for winter and Christmas viewing.
“The Mystery of Felwyn Tunnel” by L.T. Meade & Robert Eustace
A gentleman detective is asked by the chairman of a railway company to help solve the death of one of their signal men. I really enjoy mysteries set in and around trains, and this one was great. However, I couldn’t see where the “murder in the falling snow” theme came in. There was no mention of snow. I don’t think there was any mention of the weather, just the date, late October 1893. I’m willing to be corrected, though. I was interrupted numerous times while reading this story and could very well have missed it. What I did not miss was the spooky feeling of waiting in the signal box with these two men, while attempt to fight off irresistible exhaustion. Don’t fall asleep! I urged them. Well, you’ll have to read it to find out what happens. But this was a real goodie as far as the mystery goes, even if it did fail on the snow front.
“The Reprisal” by Michael Innes
After a house party in which a game that required having the lights off, Cellini’s salt cellar goes missing from a table. Small, pocketable, and worth a fortune, the insurance company has been notified and the police called in to investigate. With a bit of detecting Appleby finds out that Lord Funtington already has a number one suspect, a favourite among his wife’s guests. No snow in this one either. Good little Manor House mystery, though.
“The Sign of the Broken Sword” by G.K. Chesterton
Father Brown and his friend Flambeau traipse across the wintry countryside to visit a monument in a churchyard to Sir General Arthur St. Clare, while the priest explains his theory of what really happened in the events surrounding the hero’s death. There are som beautiful descriptions of the landscape in this one, but I found my attention waining in parts. The description of a battle that occurred before St. Clare’s death bored me.
The thousand arms of the forest were grey, and its million fingers silver. In a sky of dark green-blue-like slate the stars were bleak and brilliant like splintered ice. All that thickly wooded and sparsely tenanted countryside was stiff with a bitter and brittle frost. […] It was a queer night for anyone to explore a churchyard. But, on the other hand, perhaps it was worth exploring. (147)
This is not a bad way to start a story. In fact, I was quite excited by the beginning, even though no mention of snow ever does occur. At 23 pages, this is not an overly long story, but I felt the end could have come sooner and it would have made for a more compelling story.
“Off the Tiles” by Ianthe Jerrold
On a November evening in London, the police are called by a woman who says her next-door neighbour has fallen from the roof of her house to the pavement below, and died. Inspector James Quy and PC Baker, report to the scene. This one was just satisfying enough. I liked the setting and the premise, a woman walking the parapet between two terraced houses falls to her death. Did she fall, or was she pushed? But again, no snow. In a collection called Murder in the Falling Snow one would expect every one of them to have at least a mention of snow However, if that cannot be managed, the first and the last stories should be thick with the stuff.
In a collection with 10 mystery stories which are supposed to share the common theme “falling snow”, it seems remiss to only have four of the 10 with a mention of snow. In the other six a couple mention frost, but not snow. They should have simply chosen another title for the collection. I would have preferred the unimaginative, Murder in Winter, because at least it would not have been misleading. Because the thing is, the collection is pretty good. The Chesterton was the only one that truly lost my attention. And even this one might have faired better with me if I had read it at another time, when I was less tired or distracted.
I think I’ve been spoiled with the British Library’s collections as they always have great introductions, and they include a bit about each author and the publishing history of the story you are about to read. Murder in the Falling Snow, did not have an introduction or any information on the authors, and no indication of the year any of the stories were originally published, with the exception of Julian Symons “Meeting in the Snow” (1960) and that’s because the copyright information was listed in the credits on the last page.
My overall thought is that this was a good collection, not a great one, based on the stories themselves. But if we are judging this book on whether or not each story meets the theme, I’m afraid it does not get a passing grade from me. And at 182 pages, it is short when compared to other collections of a similar price point.
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