Two-Way Murder by E.C.R. Lorac

It was not until I had finished E.C.R. Lorac’s Two-Way Murder and was reading Martin Edwards’ introduction that I learned this was a previously unpublished book. I am putting that at the start of this post because if you are a fan of Edith Caroline Rivett’s writing and had reservations about this one being not as good as her others due to it being published posthumously, fear not! I enjoyed this one perhaps even more than Murder in Vienna, and I did love that one. (You can read my review of that one here.)

On a foggy night in January, just about everyone across the countryside near Fordings is heading to the Prince’s Hall for the annual Hollydown Hunt Ball. Commander Nicholas Brent has offered a ride to Ian Macbane, who is in the area visiting his aunt and uncle. As they pass Hollydown Manor, which was recently sold, the subject of the daughter of the house comes up. Rosemary Reeve disappeared on the evening of last year’s ball and she has not been seen or heard from since. The subject quickly shifts to lighter subjects, including the young women likely to be in attendance. It becomes clear that most of the young men in the area are interested in the young and beautiful Dilys Maine.

Lucky for them, Dilys manages to put in an appearance at the ball. Although she had to sneak out of her father’s house to be there, and must get home before Alice, the family’s loyal and well-meaning servant, gets home. Alice wouldn’t mind her having a bit of fun, but Dilys thoughtfully does not want to put Alice in the position of having to lie to her overbearing and hard to mange employer. Thankfully, Nick Brent has obligingly offered to get her back in good time, and they leave the ball around midnight, setting out on the low road where the fog is not as bad. But the best laid plans do have a way of going wrong, and when Nick and Dilys come upon a corpse that is quite literally blocking the narrow road, things start to go very wrong indeed.

Quick thinker that he is, Nick suggests Dilys head home on foot, while he walks to the nearest house to call the police. Michael Reeve’s place is the closest, but upon arrival Nick realises that Michael must still be at the ball. He gains entry through a kitchen window, and calls the police to report the body. But just as he is hanging up the phone, he hears someone inside the house. He drops his torch in surprise, and just after Nick announces himself, he is set upon. After a violent struggle, his attacker leaves him knocked out and buried under a fallen bookcase.

Sometime before one o’clock, Ian Macbane gets a ride home with Tom Hudson. They too end up taking the lower road because of the fog and come upon Nick’s empty vehicle. They see the body in the road and ascertain the person is dead, when the police arrive. 

Meanwhile, Dilys who has cut across the fields at a run with her dress bundled in her arms, has arrived home safe and sound. She is just getting ready for bed when the phone rings. It’s Alice saying she won’t be able to make it back tonight as another accident is blocking her route. While Dilys is on the phone her father, Mr. Maine, arrives home unexpectedly—he was supposed to be away for the night—looking “not only tired” but “gaunt and strained and dirty” with “a stain down one side of his face” and collar “crumpled and awry” (37). He is angry that Alice isn’t there with Dilys, and he says something about how Alice should have called earlier. Mr. Maine tells her to go to bed as it’s almost midnight. But Dilys knows it must be almost half past one at this point. She also knows her father wears a watch and is always aware of the time. Why would he want her to think he had arrived home earlier than he did? 

Speaking of the Maines, I love their servant, Alice. She is smart, methodical, speaks her mind, and looks out for Dilys as a mother or older sister would. She is certainly more effective in influencing Dilys than her father. A day or two after the incident, Nick calls up Dilys and asks if she would like a cocker spaniel from his dog’s litter, even offering to pick her up, and save her a cold walk over the downs. Dilys tells Alice about the phone call and Alice’s reply is classic her. 

“Has he indeed? Those pups are worth a lot of money—no end of prizes that bitch of his has won. They say he knows more about dogs than any of the vets do.” She looked at Dilys with her shrewd blue eyes. “All the same, maybe it’d be better not to go traipsing over there just yet. If he’s promised you a pup, he’ll keep it for you, all right. Wait a week or so, until there’s not so much backchat being handed round.” (115)

Alice suggests Dilys wait a bit to get the dog, cites the reason behind her thinking, but allows Dilys to come to her own decision. Seeing the logic behind Alice’s thinking, Dilys agrees with her. Alice is a smart woman, smarter than she lets on. This isn’t the only moment that she says a partial truth for a desired result where the full truth might have the opposite effect. 

Inspector Waring from the County C.I.D. is tasked with investigating the case. I believe Waring’s Divisional Detective Inspector, Thorn, comparison of Waring with the other officer investigating the case could equally apply to Alice.

Turner, routine-minded, concrete, his feet firmly on the ground, his method based on the ascertainable details of police evidence—times, places, prints, and all the rest of it: the methods which, admittedly, had been the foundation of police work since the force was inaugurated. And Waring— imaginative, aware, sensitive: able, by some odd quirk of his lively mind, to obtain confidences and acquire impressions which were beyond Turner’s scope. Thorn had to admit, from past experience, that Waring had a lively and unexpectedly sound judgement over people of whom his observation had been of the slightest: when Waring had said, “Seems to me there’s a connection somehow; so-and-so was being cagey…” it had often proved that there was a connection, and later in the case Waring had produced some unexpected observation which showed that his logical powers had not been in abeyance while he soaked in awareness of human nature.

“Makes you wonder what is the basis of detection, after all,” pondered Thorn. “Timetables or human nature? After all, criminals are human and maybe young Waring’s getting back to basic detection. They ought to make a good pair, Turner with his conscientious routine, Waring with his awareness of humanity.” (112-13)

And the two do make a good team. Waring reminded me a bit of the detectives in Anthony Berkeley’s Not to be Taken. Lorac does not turn her detective into a figure of fun, but Waring does seem to have a way of making people feel comfortable. Like Alice, Waring has the talent for knowing how to get the result he wants from people. But unlike Alice, Waring is a detective and most people do not offer up information to him, whereas people actively seek Alice out to share a gossip. 

I had such a great time with this one. Getting to read Martin Edwards’ introduction afterwards was an added treat.

The writing is crisp, despite the fact that editing must have been minimal. The author’s name on the cover sheet is “Mary Le Bourne”—evidently a pun on “Marylebone”—and the police detectives in the story are not the investigators familiar from the Lorac and Carnac series. The setting on the south coast of England is also something of a departure from the backgrounds to most of her post-war novels. Was she trying to write a different type of detective story? Might she have had in mind a distinct series featuring Waring, the likeable police officer who solves the puzzle? The answer to both questions may well be yes. (vii)

The British Library did not have a copy of the manuscript of Two-Way Murder because it had not been published. If it was not for the typescript copy supplied by James M. Pickard, this novel could very well be undiscovered still. 

I highly recommend this one to fans of classic crime with a rural setting. It would make a perfect winter read. Though, I must admit, it’s one I would welcome rereading at any time of year.

(I just wanted to note that I have linked to the UK edition of Two-Way Murder, which is published by British Library Publishing, not the American edition by Poisoned Pen Press, which is the one that I borrowed from my library and is pictured in these photos. The editions are slightly different sizes and the covers have different textures, but the contents are the same.)

This blog post contains affiliate links for Blackwell’s. As a Blackwell’s Affiliate, I may receive a small commission, at no additional cost to you, if you decide to make a purchase through one of the links on my website. I recommend Blackwell’s because I use them myself. This helps support me in sharing—what I hope is—valuable content. Thank you for your support!

Murder as a Fine Art by Carol Carnac

After reading Murder in Vienna, written under Edith Caroline Rivett’s pen name, E.C.R. Lorac, I approached Murder as a Fine Art with eager anticipation. But I have spent much of my reading time lately feeling tired, which may explain why this one published under her lesser known pen name, Carol Carnac, at first, failed to grab me. However, I prevailed, got some sleep, and by the midway point I was really enjoying this classic mystery set in March.

After the first and second Minister of Fine Arts died shortly after taking up the position, Humphry David is the third in line. It is his job to get things in order, despite the fact that he thinks the whole idea of a Ministry of Fine Arts is rubbish. In fact, when the idea for the Ministry had been broached, David had voted against it. 

Regardless of personal opinion, he must do the job he has been given. When David spots some irregularities in the Ministry’s correspondence, which lead him to suspect there may be some forgeries in their collection, he invites Henry Fearon, one of the experts from Scotland Yard who specialise in forgeries, to investigate. But before Fearon can get to work, Scotland Yard is called in on a more pressing matter. A civil servant has been found crushed beneath a marble bust. The bust of the last Earl of Manderby is generally hated by the staff. The civil servant was not exactly a favourite either.

On one topic, the Minister and the dead man, Pompfret, were of similar mind and that is regarding that marble bust.

“The thing is too utterly revolting. It offends one's sense of values, and the sheer virtuosity of the treatment renders it the more deplorable. It should not be here at all. It labels us as Philistines.”

“It’s a work of art,” said David unhappily. “One mustn’t let personal prejudice intervene..."

“I’ve often wondered if it would topple off with a little encouragement,” said Pompfret. “It’d be a wonderful sight to see it bounce down the stairs. It must weigh several tons.” (33)

Even the detectives, Detective Inspector Lancing and Chief Detective Inspector Julian Rivers, have a low opinion of the marble bust sculpted by Canova. Although, of course, they are critiquing it as it lays in pieces amongst a crime scene.

Together they lay at the foot of the noblest state staircase in London: both with broken necks. Earl Manderby’s neck had severed below the chin; detached from its monumental shoulders, among chips and blocks of laurel leaves, stylised curls and fragments of outsize features, the marble head lay grotesquely close to Pompfret's, while Pompfret's blood clotted on the black and white blocks of the pavement. (46)

One of the things I would not have expected from a mystery set in a Ministry of Fine Arts is that most of the people who work at the Ministry have a specialised appreciation for art and almost no appreciation for that which falls outside of their specialty. For example, David who is known for being a “passionate addict of the arts”—which is what lead him to being given the job as Minister—has a passion for Holbein drawings and Dürer engravings. Having never studied contemporary art, he admits to feeling a “clinic distaste” for it (18). I got a kick out of all of the jabs at contemporary art and Canova’s sculptures. One gets a sense that Carnac had a great time trashing certain styles of art and artists in the writing of this book.

As I mentioned earlier, David is not the first Minister to be appointed. The two men who held the position before him left their own legacy, shall we say. The first, Joyce-Lawrence, had been given a strict budget in which to stick to, and so he filled the collection with representative pieces of the various schools and periods, and concerned himself less with the actual artists included in the collection. In his office he chose contemporary pieces, referred to by the typists as “the Minister’s “funnies” (18). When Fearon asks about them, David explains,

“You see, Joyce-Lawrence had a sense of humour. These pictures aren’t signed. He didn’t have the name of the painter attached to any of them, and his private list has been lost—if it ever existed. It is my own opinion that they’re all anonymous, for the best of reasons.” (20)

The second Minister was no better. He was not interested in art at all, but he worked wonders in the Ministry’s finances, cutting overspending left over from his predecessor by firing all of the experts. The result is that the Ministry is left with a collection that no one knows much about. The staff who work directly with the art collection might know a painting well enough by sight, but it seems unlikely that most would be able to tell the real thing from a counterfeit. A bit of a problem when pieces in the collection are regularly out on loan to galleries across the country. 

And now, here is the current Minister, David, trying to make sense of the Ministry he has been assigned. He is such a kind and helpful person, that I did not think too much of him—except to suspect him, of course, because he seemed a great deal too good. When I was trying to figure out why the first half of this book dragged a bit, I noticed that just about every scene that David was in my interest started to wane. He is so much of a do-gooder that I found him a bit boring. Although, if he was a person—not just a character in a book—he would be the type to have many friends, and not a bad word could be said about him. 

The second half of this book picks up and feels a lot like a country house mystery to me. The Ministry of Fine Arts may be situated in London, but we don’t see much of the city besides a few scenes near the end where the detectives are rushing around asking questions and chasing leads. Lancing and Rivers spend a lot of time searching Medici House, the building that holds the Ministry, for clues, and ways a person could sneak in or out of the building. And of course, just about everyone who works at the Ministry is a suspect, minus the dear typists, of course.

If you like country house mysteries, I think you would enjoy this one. But don’t expect tea served by a loyal retainer in the drawing room. Refreshment can be found in the canteen with the rest of the house staff, minus the night watchmen, Titmarsh and Smith, who prefer to keep their own company in the bowels of the building.

Overall, I really enjoyed this one. I was impressed with the solution to Pompfret’s death, and while I did not come close to figuring it out, the clues were there in the text, so that one could solve the crime themselves, in theory. Carnac’s skill with description gave me a clear picture of Medici House, but also the crime scene, which I sometimes find writers either gloss over, so as not to make things too gruesome, or go too far with it. Carnac provides a good balance, I think. 

I won't say the tense conclusion made up for the slow beginning, but it did make me want to return to this one again sometime. I would like to see if it was just the mood I was in while reading, or if the first half really did drag. Next time, perhaps, I will have more patience with the ever kind and helpful David. If you have read this one, I would love to hear your thoughts on the pacing and anything else you care to discuss about it!

Thank you to British Library Publishing for kindly sending me a copy of Murder as a Fine Art for review. As always, all opinions on the book are my own.

This blog post contains affiliate links for Blackwell’s. As a Blackwell’s Affiliate, I may receive a small commission, at no additional cost to you, if you decide to make a purchase through one of the links on my website. I recommend Blackwell’s because I use them myself. This helps support me in sharing—what I hope is—valuable content. Thank you for your support!

Murder in Vienna by E.C.R. Lorac

Set in October, E.C.R. Lorac’s 1956 novel, Murder in Vienna, is the perfect atmospheric mystery to curl up with on a wet Sunday afternoon. 

Robert Macdonald heads to Vienna for a holiday to visit his old friend Dr. Franz Natzler, who he hasn’t seen in ten years. While he appreciates the relaxing atmosphere of flying on a Viscount airliner over land travel, he takes note of his fellow passengers. On a stopover in Zurich he becomes acquainted with a young woman, Elizabeth Le Vendre, who is to be the new secretary to retired diplomat Sir Walter Vanbrugh. Upon arrival the two part ways, Elizabeth to her new job and Macdonald to his holiday.

While Macdonald is familiar with Vienna, he hasn’t been back in twenty-five years, and Vienna has been altered by its recent history.* On the second day of his holiday, Macdonald plays the tourist, becoming reacquainted with the city.

In the afternoon Macdonald strolled over to Schönbrunn Palace, to renew his acquaintance with the gardens and fountains: it was another lovely sunny day and the warm coloured stones of the palace looked almost golden in the October sunlight. (“Maria Theresa yellow,” the Austrians called that subtle gold of the masonry.)

It was while he was standing by the garden front of the palace, looking up at the arches and colonnade of the Gloriette on the rising ground to the south that he saw Elizabeth Le Vendre again. She also was looking at the Gloriette, and as she turned and saw Macdonald her quick smile flashed out. (42)

The exchanges between Macdonald and Elizabeth are sweet and he treats her kindly. I appreciated the respect he shows her, despite her being no more than twenty-one and looking “young as a schoolgirl” (42).  Macdonald recognises that because of the position she has been hired for and being fluent in German, she must have studied Modern Languages at Oxford and had secretarial training. 

After enjoying a coffee on the sunny terrace against the old stables, Macdonald and Dr. Natzler drop Elizabeth off at the Vanbrugh mansion. The next time we meet her is in a thunderstorm in heavy rain near an old gun-site overlooking Vienna. 

It was there that they found Elizabeth Le Vendre: she was lying at the foot of the steps, as though she had fallen down them. In the beam of the torch, her fair hair shone a little, as the runnels of rain-water shone: she lay face down in a pool of water and her light woollen coat lay in sodden folds on the saturated ground. (62)

It is quickly determined that she isn’t dead, only unconscious, but she has a bump on her head and having spent up to two hours in the pouring rain, she is “deadly cold” (63).

Macdonald looks at the scene through the eyes of a detective, and immediately entertains the possibility that the seemingly accidental fall down stairs in a thunderstorm was actually an attempted murder. But who would want to kill Elizabeth Le Vendre, a woman who only just arrived in Vienna a couple of days ago?

And so, Macdonald dismisses the idea. He is on holiday, after all. That is until Walsingham, a writer who has been staying with the Vanbrugh’s, is found lying dead in the middle of a road with tire tracks over him. As luck, or lack of, would have it, it’s Sir Walter Vanbrugh’s nephew, Anthony, who discovers the body after nearly running over it in the storm.

Before long, a call is put through to London, the appropriate strings are pulled, and Macdonald is saying so long to his holiday. 

This book has so many things going on that at times I found it difficult to remember who is who, and who was supposed to be where and at what time. However, I suspect this may have been a fault of my own, as I did get distracted a few times while I was reading this book. Even so, it would only take me a moment to get my bearings and be on my way again. The timeline became perfectly clear at the end, and I was applauding E.C.R. Lorac’s ability to keep so many plates spinning at once without dropping a single one.

Readers who have come across Macdonald before in E.C.R. Lorac’s forty-five other novels featuring Superintendent Robert Macdonald of the C.I.D. will get a kick out of Elizabeth telling him, “You ought to be a detective!” (42). If you fall under the category of readers who have not read any of the other Macdonald novels, not to worry, I fall into this group and I can assure you that Murder in Vienna reads like a standalone. 

With a climax set to the backdrop of moonrise over the Gloriette (LINK), from start to finish, this book uses the history, landscape, and atmosphere of Vienna to great effect. I think this book would be best enjoyed with at least rudimentary knowledge of Vienna, its rough geography, and a few points of interest. However, a general familiarity with London would do. On occasion one of the characters will compare some aspect of the Viennese setting to London, providing the reader with a frame of reference for what they are meant to be seeing.

Regarding the area near the old gun-site where Elizabeth is found, Dr. Natzler’s son observes:

‘I often thought of this place when I used to go for a walk on Hampstead Heath when we were in London during the war. The distances in London are much bigger, of course, but Hampstead Heath gives a view over London as these hills do over Vienna.’ (61-62)

And on another occasion Macdonald compares the Tiergarten (zoo) in the gardens of the Schönbrunn Palace to Regent’s Park, London.

As he stood in the darkness Macdonald could hear some of the animals calling in their cages: nocturnal animals to whom the night brought their time of greatest awareness. It was a bit like being in Regent's Park at night, where the call of lions and the howl of wolves mingled with the rumble of the London traffic. Here, as in London, there was a glow in the sky, a glow which had replaced the afterglow of the sunset. In the eastern sky, the myriad lights of Vienna were reflected up to the misty clouds, and Macdonald knew that when his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he would be able to see the open arches of the Gloriette up there on the hill, opposite the garden front of the palace. (214-15)

Lorac only used this technique of comparing Vienna to London in times when the setting was of particular import. From the places I noted, the differences between the two cities are commented on, as well as the similarities, which I think respects the individuality of both cities.

In this novel, there is a juxtaposition between the familiar and the unfamiliar. In the beginning, Macdonald watches through the plane’s window as the English coast slips away. “He had often seen all this before, but never wearied of it.” (1) From up in the air all is tranquil on that September morning. I think it was a purposeful choice that once Macdonald is out and about, exploring Vienna, it is a new month, October. The transition starts even before the plane touches down. “He had seen Vienna and the Danube long ago, from the heights of the Leopoldsberg and the Wienerwald, but there was a sense of drama in seeing it thus from the air—the river, the city, the plain.” (28) Macdonald is getting a new perspective, and that theme continues throughout this novel. 

This book marked two firsts for me. If I’ve read a book set in Vienna before now, I’ve long forgotten it. This is also my first foray into Edith Caroline Rivett’s writing. I would be keen to read more of the books she wrote under either of her pseudonyms, E.C.R. Lorac or Carol Carnac.

Thank you to British Library Publishing for kindly sending me a copy of Murder in Vienna for review. As always, all opinions on the book are my own.

*If you have no knowledge of Vienna’s history around this time, Martin Edwards touches on it in his thoughtful introduction to the British Library Crime Classics edition. I usually read introductions after I’ve read the book for fear of plot spoilers, but Martin Edwards’ introduction only discusses the first quarter of the book. He is careful not to reveal any plot points you would not already know from reading the back cover.

This blog post contains affiliate links for Blackwell’s. As a Blackwell’s Affiliate, I may receive a small commission, at no additional cost to you, if you decide to make a purchase through one of the links on my website. I recommend Blackwell’s because I use them myself. This helps support me in sharing—what I hope is—valuable content. Thank you for your support!