Synopsis: After attending three consecutive evenings of county dance events, accepting an invitation for drinks at the home of a retired schoolmaster is the last thing Patricia and Martin Hands want to do. Eventually, the sister and brother decide to be neighborly and submit, taking Patricia’s fiancé Gerald Lansley and friend Barbara Carmichael with them. The house that awaits them, however, is less than inviting: an odd man named Salter is playing a solitary hand of cards while a strange woman in a dress of foreign fashion appears from the service entrance and remains nearly mute. To the new guests’ surprise, the mysterious woman disappears out of the room again, and moments later a flustered police constable arrives, also acting strangely. It appears that their would-be host, Mr. Yeldham, has been stabbed in his study, knocking against the switch for the fireplace as he fell. No murder weapon is found on the scene.
From that moment on, the unlucky quartet is fatally linked to the curious events of Y Bryn house in Trevenant, a quiet village in Wales. Detective-sergeant Scoresby has his work cut out for him, as there is no shortage of promising leads. Martin Hands, who did not want to visit Yeldham and pointedly refused cigarettes and drinks while at the house, appears to be holding a grudge against the victim from an incident that concerned Martin and Patricia’s father during the Great War. Scoresby finds acrimony between Yeldham and his housemaster replacement, Kinderson, at the school the dead man was forced to retire from. And what was the mystery woman’s connection with Yeldham? Does the fact that she fled the scene point towards her guilt as a murderer?
As DS Scoresby continues to investigate, with questionably competent help from Constable Reeves and the poaching-inclined Sergeant Evans, the clues start to accrue. An open book of legal code was found by the dead man’s chair, hardly a tome for light reading; a boy notices part of a license plate number from a car parked along a dark lane on the night of the murder; Gerald Mansley apparently lied about the bus stop he used during a visit to London; and Patricia Hands tells the police that a spring-loaded knife used for killing game – and belonging to her brother Martin – has disappeared. When a second murder occurs, the victim being a suspect-turned-blackmailer who knew too much, Scoresby calls everyone back to Y Bryn to present the facts and argue the case against the killer.
Review: To date, And Death Came Too is the eighth Richard Hull book (of his fifteen mysteries) that I have read. Interestingly, it is the first – and perhaps only – story of his that employs a classic whodunit structure, complete with the discovery of clues, suspects interviewed by a determined chief-inspector, and “the grand confrontation scene”, as the acerbic Mr. Salter puts it, wherein the killer is finally accused of the crime and revealed to the reader. Hull handles all aspects of this traditional format skillfully, and the result is a delight for mystery fans. Those unfamiliar with this author may wonder what exactly he has been delivering in his novels, if not a fair-play whodunit. The answer explains why I am attracted to Richard Hull’s writing in the first place: like Anthony Berkeley, he is an author who greatly enjoys playing with the conventions and architecture of the mystery form, finding new approaches to present a crime story and its cast of characters. Some take the guise of an inverted mystery, meaning that the reader knows the murderer and his goal from the start. Both The Murder of My Aunt and My Own Murderer give us immediate access to the criminally-minded narrators as they tell their stories.
Other Hull titles are sly variations on the whodunit, with smart satirical observations on class and corporate thinking. In the delightful Murder Isn’t Easy, we know that violence will strike the halls of the NeO-aD advertising agency, but it’s not certain until later who victim and killer might ultimately be. Keep It Quiet chronicles the efforts of a blackmailer (whose identity is revealed halfway through the book) who uses his power to affect changes to his liking at the social club he frequents. Such intriguing new approaches don’t always fully cohere – as with the amiable but muddled The Murderers of Monty, where a group of businessmen incorporate to plot the demise of an irritating co-worker – but they are enjoyable tales, and admirable in their invention.
In contrast, And Death Came Too seems to be simultaneously a genuine addition to the fair-play whodunit form and a winking comment on the genre. (The wink may be slight compared to Hull’s more caustic satire, but it is there.) Perhaps because of the author’s intention to deliver a traditional mystery, this book is one of only a few where Hull gives the police characters center stage. Even with his titles featuring Inspector Fenby, often the investigating officer is kept decidedly in the background. Here, DS Scoresby is the principal driver of the action, working with other officers and reporting to Major Flaxman as new evidence arises. Generous characterization is provided for major and supporting characters alike, allowing even secondary figures like the precise, egocentric housemaster Kinderson and the suspicious French servant Marie Lefevre to contribute to the story’s success.
As DS Scoresby continues to investigate, with questionably competent help from Constable Reeves and the poaching-inclined Sergeant Evans, the clues start to accrue. An open book of legal code was found by the dead man’s chair, hardly a tome for light reading; a boy notices part of a license plate number from a car parked along a dark lane on the night of the murder; Gerald Mansley apparently lied about the bus stop he used during a visit to London; and Patricia Hands tells the police that a spring-loaded knife used for killing game – and belonging to her brother Martin – has disappeared. When a second murder occurs, the victim being a suspect-turned-blackmailer who knew too much, Scoresby calls everyone back to Y Bryn to present the facts and argue the case against the killer.
Review: To date, And Death Came Too is the eighth Richard Hull book (of his fifteen mysteries) that I have read. Interestingly, it is the first – and perhaps only – story of his that employs a classic whodunit structure, complete with the discovery of clues, suspects interviewed by a determined chief-inspector, and “the grand confrontation scene”, as the acerbic Mr. Salter puts it, wherein the killer is finally accused of the crime and revealed to the reader. Hull handles all aspects of this traditional format skillfully, and the result is a delight for mystery fans. Those unfamiliar with this author may wonder what exactly he has been delivering in his novels, if not a fair-play whodunit. The answer explains why I am attracted to Richard Hull’s writing in the first place: like Anthony Berkeley, he is an author who greatly enjoys playing with the conventions and architecture of the mystery form, finding new approaches to present a crime story and its cast of characters. Some take the guise of an inverted mystery, meaning that the reader knows the murderer and his goal from the start. Both The Murder of My Aunt and My Own Murderer give us immediate access to the criminally-minded narrators as they tell their stories.
Other Hull titles are sly variations on the whodunit, with smart satirical observations on class and corporate thinking. In the delightful Murder Isn’t Easy, we know that violence will strike the halls of the NeO-aD advertising agency, but it’s not certain until later who victim and killer might ultimately be. Keep It Quiet chronicles the efforts of a blackmailer (whose identity is revealed halfway through the book) who uses his power to affect changes to his liking at the social club he frequents. Such intriguing new approaches don’t always fully cohere – as with the amiable but muddled The Murderers of Monty, where a group of businessmen incorporate to plot the demise of an irritating co-worker – but they are enjoyable tales, and admirable in their invention.
In contrast, And Death Came Too seems to be simultaneously a genuine addition to the fair-play whodunit form and a winking comment on the genre. (The wink may be slight compared to Hull’s more caustic satire, but it is there.) Perhaps because of the author’s intention to deliver a traditional mystery, this book is one of only a few where Hull gives the police characters center stage. Even with his titles featuring Inspector Fenby, often the investigating officer is kept decidedly in the background. Here, DS Scoresby is the principal driver of the action, working with other officers and reporting to Major Flaxman as new evidence arises. Generous characterization is provided for major and supporting characters alike, allowing even secondary figures like the precise, egocentric housemaster Kinderson and the suspicious French servant Marie Lefevre to contribute to the story’s success.
The puzzle at the center – essentially, who killed old Yeldham, and why? – is an attractive one, and there are the necessary number of red herrings to lead the reader up the garden path. While nothing in terms of plot or solution dazzles with ingenuity, it is certainly a solid mystery delivered fairly and intelligently to the reader. I was able to guess the killer’s identity around the book’s halfway point, and took additional enjoyment in watching Hull use his writing skills to avoid revealing this fact. For an author used to presenting the murderer’s identity partway through a story (or right from the start), it is highly enjoyable to discover this genuine fair-play mystery from Richard Hull. Just know that it’s the exception to his literary rule.
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