Creasey Mystery Magazine # 3 (October 1956)

Creasey Mystery Magazine (v1 n3, October 1956) was published by Dalrow Publishing and like its preceding two issues, sports a solid one-color cover devoid of artwork. Edited by Leslie Syddall, this issue is filled with mostly reprints by quality writers of the mystery genre.

Creasey Mystery Magazine (v1 #3 – October 1956)

The lead novella is by John Creasey and titled Under-Cover Man. The tale originally appeared in a South African magazine, thus far untraced. It later was serialized in Australia’s Woman’s Day and Home beginning 1951 Jun 20. Two years later it was jointly published with Murder Out of the Past by UK: Barrington Gray, 1953 (I’ll be reading that tale in the next issue). This novelette opens with a frightened young lady fleeing from a tall man into a hotel. Hiding there, she is approached by a nice man who offers his assistance. He notices her fear of the tall man and convinces her to permit him to escort her out to his car, and away to meet his sister. Assures her calmly he really does have a car, really does have a sister. He’s not on the prowl. While at the car, the tall man approaches and our odd hero takes him down, disarms him of the knife he was attempting to bring forth. Creasey, ever the master at quick action yarns, spins the usual one here, but it flows admirably along. The gist: two men and two women vacation in South Africa. One man is murdered. Stabbed to death. The other collects what funds they have and makes for town. He can’t return but sends for her. She’s got no money; she arrives at the hotel to discover he’s not there! Enter…our hero. We learn there is some form of blackmail racket. But it goes even deeper than that, expanding into an even broader plot. Is anyone truly innocent? Our hero is clearly the under-cover man of the title. Why has he involved himself in the plight of this young lady? Why not simply involve the police? It’s a decent yarn and readily available for those interested in pursuing.

The Nemean Lion once more features Hercule Poirot. Written by Agatha Christie, the story debuted in The Strand, November 1939. I’ve mentioned prior that I find Poirot to be a frustratingly annoying person. Certainly not the sort of person I would enjoy spending time with, in any capacity. This story introduces readers to the fact that Poirot has effectively decided to retire, but not before tackling twelve cases that he has dubbed The Labours of Hercules, after the famed exploits of the Greek literary demi-god of legend. Unfortunately for Poirot, his first “labour” involves a Pekinese dog. It was dog-napped for ransom, that was paid, and the dog returned. So, who cares? The dog belonged to a woman. The husband cares. It was his money, and his wife did not inform him of the missing dog nor the ransom until after the issue was settled. He doesn’t care so much of the money. He has plenty. But it irks him regardless. And, another person likewise lost his wife’s dog via the same manner, but at a cost of 300 Pounds, 100 more than his own wife’s dog! Poirot takes the case and if you’ve read Poirot, he wraps it up quickly, but not to my satisfaction. He sends out his faithful man Georges to track a certain person; I’d already determined early that there were only two plausible culprits. I won’t divulge the identity but suffice to say that Poirot visits the person at their home and gives the person the opportunity to explain their actions. Despite a crime perpetuated more than once (several times, in fact) to various dog owners, Poirot permits the crime to go unpunished with a caveat.

The Missing Model by Peter Fraser appeared in The Sydney Morning Herald, 28 Aug 1954 and the BBC issued it in 1955 as a ‘Play for Broadcasting’), but it’s true first appearance was actually in The (London) Evening Standard, 13 December 1950. A couple are strolling past a shop window. The female watches a figure stumble in and collapse, dead. Returning with a constable, they are shocked to discover no dead body. Reaching out to the shop owner, he’s brought in to open shop when the detective notes that the alarm isn’t active. There’s no evidence of foul-play. The lady describes the clothes the dead person wore and notes a picture in the shop is that of the dead woman. Turns out she is their main model. Calling at her home, her mother states she is out but will return…she never does. Months pass and while no body nor clues surface, a circular was dispatched with a full description of the model’s clothes. Those turn up at a shop, the cops investigate, and we eventually obtain the killer and a case involving essentially industrial espionage.

A Dog’s Life by Michael Innes is listed on the story-page as a new story. This is false. It debuted in The (London) Evening Standard, 11 May 1950 and features his recurring popular Scotland Yard detective John Appleby. The story later was reprinted in America’s digest MacKill’s Mystery Magazine, September 1952. It’s undeniably an entertainingly flavored yarn, too. Appleby relates a case from many years earlier, in his younger years. He spends time at a cliffside town with the Lorio family, a strange couple. Something feels off about them, but he’s on vacation, not working. As he later confesses, a Yard man is always working, and must always be cognizant of this fact. While napping at the beach, he overhears a couple talking and making love. He’s mortified to recognize the voice of Mrs. Lorio making out with a strange man. Not wishing to be present to this love affair that is hardly his business, he sneaks away. Days pass find Appleby often walking with Mr. Lorio and his dog. One day the pair alone are walking along the cliffs; the wind is dangerously whipping about. Appleby has no interest in the edge, but Mr. Lorio suddenly discovers his dog down the cliffside, seemingly stuck. Appleby finds this intriguing and watches in shock as Lorio scrambles down the cliffside to rescue his dog, vanish from sight, then fall away into the sea far below to his death. Appleby runs and calls for coast guard assistance, etc., returns, and finds the dog climbed up on its own and Mrs. Lorio present looking for an explanation, seemingly mortified that her dear husband is dead, when the dog struggles lose and pursues a man that looks like vagrant. In fact, looks very much like the strange man Mrs. Lorio was having affair. The dog isn’t attacking. It loves its fleeing Master! Appleby discovers a clean-shaven Mr. Lorio and realizes the truth: the pair murdered another man to pretend it was Mr. Lorio that died to collect insurance money. Realizing he’s captured. Mr. Lorio jumps off the cliff, and Mrs. Lorio is arrested, sentenced to hang.

Peter Cheyney’s The Rope originally appeared in the 1920s-1930s. The earliest publication I’ve found is 28 June 1939 in The Wireless Weekly (Australia), a journal dedicated to the radio, and in England via the Staffordshire Advertiser, 10 Feb 1940. It was much later reprinted in MacKill’s Mystery Magazine, December 1952. This tale proves that if you give a criminal enough rope, they’ll hang themselves, no matter how smartly they plan. Getlin owes 700 Pounds to his friend Varne. His friend Varne is an alcoholic because Getlin once stole his girlfriend. He never recovered. Getlin doesn’t actually like Varne. He hates him. Hates him so much that he plans to murder Varne, and has a brilliant plan, planned over the course of a few years. Everyone in town has heard Varne drunkenly state he’s tired of living. Death by suicide: hanging. While Varne is drinking it up heavily in town, Getlin with the third spare given him by Varne (housekeeper has the other) enters the home. Arranges the suicide. Varne finally stumbles home, but Getlin gets tired of Varne drunkenly digging in his pockets for his house key. Unlocking the door, Varne falls through. Assisting the scarcely conscious man to his room, he arranges the noose about Varne’s neck, props him up, slips out of the room and in doing so, Varne slips and hangs himself. Next day, a constable comes to Getlin’s home to place him under arrest for murder. Where did he go wrong? Investigation states Varne was too drunk to tie the noose and hang himself. Plus, how did he get inside the home when his key was found in the street? The housekeeper was out of town. That leaves only Getlin.

The Case of the Red-Headed Women features Neils Orsen and is written by Dennis Wheatley. While its first publication remains unknown, it is known to be excerpted from Gunmen, Gallants & Ghosts (London: Hutchinson, June 1943). I say this because I genuinely doubt that GG&G was the first publication of all the bound stories. They feel more like pre-WW2 tales. In this psychic detective outing, Orsen is approached by friend Bruce Hemmingway to investigate a home recently purchased by newlywed clients. The home is the source of past deaths. Two redheaded women were hurled to their demise out the bathroom window; a man likewise died from that same window, but how he connects with the women is unknown. The question: is there a genuine haunting or is something more physical involved in the past-murders? Do the new owners have anything to fear? Possibly…if the wife is a redhead. Orsen accepts the invitation and sets up his photographic camera equipment outside said window and inside the bathroom. On the appointed night, Hemmingway and Orsen go to the home only to find that the newlyweds have already moved in, ahead of schedule. The pair must convince the husband to cater to their unexpected arrival and humor them until the ungodly hour of the fated wife’s scheduled demise…assuming it will actually occur. Orsen is convinced it will, when suddenly the wife, who is supposed to be asleep, is heard screaming in the bathroom. Orsen forces his way in ahead of the belligerent husband and discovers the wife very much alive, if not shaken by some supernatural ordeal. Collecting his equipment, Orsen develops the film and discovers that a ghostly form indeed had proceeded to hurl her out the window, an actual elemental. But why did it fail? Because powers of darkness can be beaten back by powers of light, namely, Orsen’s camera flash from outside the window!

The Skylight Man is by Nigel Morland and features his hard-nosed bitch of a detective, Mrs. Palmyra Pym. If that statement offends you, it shouldn’t. Pym’s stone-cold, abrasively coarse, etc. I’m not sure as to her age, but I dare say she’s probably in her 50s or so. Least, that’s how I read it. She’s called in to track a robber that can scale any building as agile as a cat and twice as fast. He made off with loads of cash. He was captured (accidentally) by a cop. Tossed in jail. Escaped, and killed a copper in the process. Every copper is hunting him to no avail. He has a girlfriend that has her own show at the BBC. She’s watched 24/7, certain the pair will contact one another. Pym finally cracks the case when she spots a blonde model and her unique nylons. They are coded in Morse, and the robber was once a navy man that can read Morse. Plus, being more than a bit of a “wolf,” he’s certain to first spot the sexy blonde’s legs on TV and then the code. They catch him alright, but Pym is miffed. Dozens of viewers also spotted the Morse code and phoned in asking if there was a cash prize for solving the code! I’ve read Nigel Morland previously and wasn’t too impressed with his works. The first time was via stand-alone novella The Big Killing.

Creasey Mystery Magazine # 2 (September 1956)

I tackled the debut issue of the Creasey Mystery Magazine way back in 2015 (click HERE to re-read that entry first). Four years later, I am returning to the task of revisiting that magazine, with the second issue. This was more of a wake-up reminder than a plan on my part. A recent blog reader asked me a question, and her question prompted this assignment. So, I’m dedicating this blog entry to Pennie.

Creasey Mystery Magazine (v1 n2, September 1956) UK: Dalrow Publishing.
The first three issues sported identical covers (no doubt to save on design costs), but, the one solid color differed per cover. The first featured a light blue cover, while this one has a red cover.

The lead story is Death to Joy by John Creasey. The tale is smoothly written, fairly fast-paced, and feels like a precursor to James Bond. It features his recurring popularly favorite detective Richard Rollison, aka The Toff. The plot takes place in Durban, Africa. Rollison seems always to be coincidentally in the right place(s) to view overlapping cases of good and evil, but hell, that’s fiction for you. Here we have Rollison watching a young teenaged lovely lady laughing it up watching the playful antics of Zulu boy while she and her company, an aged woman, sit upon a rickshaw. Rollison notes that another person is also watching the pair. He’s swarthy, handsome, well-dressed, and his eyes betray his thoughts. Rollison doesn’t like him. Fast-forward, Rollison’s at a special party-affair. Everyone is present there, too. Rollison asks local journalist Jim Crane who the females are. The younger gal is Elizabeth Dunn, slated to inherit a fortune; the older lady is her aunt and guardian. A young man dancing with her is Tony Cornish, money made from real-estate. The evil-looking gentleman and his female companion? Klimmer, dabbles in illegal activities, but never been caught by the police. The woman? Not his wife, but perhaps a lover. Her identity is not known to Crane, nor is it ever truly clarified later in the text. Fast-forward to another day. Miss Dunn visits Rollison at his room, looking for assistance. He pauses her, discovers a snooper at the door, they fight, he knocks him down, someone down the haul pulls a gat and shoots at Rollison. He dodges the iron pill. That would-be killer escapes. He looks like a pan-handler, a character with recurring theme throughout the text. I won’t divulge more on that, as it’s relevant to the story. Rollison assigns George, his “negro” boy, to assist. George is faithful to Rollison from some undisclosed prior assignment. I’m not sure if he shows up in other stories or not, but had he been developed more, he’d have made an interesting character of his own merit. Miss Dunn shies away from Rollison after guns and death are employed, begs off, and leaves without hiring Rollison. Too late. He’s accepted the case, whether she likes it or not. The gist: she saw in the newspaper a man was murdered and Miss Dunn fears that her lover, Tony Cornish, was the killer. Evidence suggests this, especially after an altercation between Dunn and Cornish, in which he calls her a Delilah! Seems he believes she stole papers from his place, especially after blackmailer Klimmer staged the suggestion. How Rollison solves the case and disables each would-be killer makes for a fascinating read and finalizes in the cliché manner. Cornish and Dunn are joined, and Rollison asks Dunn to do him one favor. Rollison’s returning to England, could she give George a job? She accepts, proclaiming “A thousand jobs!” to which Rollison rejoins “He’ll only need one.”

The next tale is The Lernean Hydra by Agatha Christie, continuing her series of tales featuring the obnoxious Hercule Poirot. Originally debuting in America’s magazine This Week, 3 September 1939 as The Invisible Enemy and it soon appeared in England’s The Strand (December 1939). Hercule Poirot returns, hired to squash rumors in a small town. A doctor’s career is near ruin after his wife dies. Rumors spread like wild-fire that he and/or the younger lady he’s suspected of being infatuated with poisoned his invalid wife. Rumors also suggest that while he cared for her, he never loved his wife. Poirot insists from the doctor full disclosure, no matter what. He finally acquiesces that it is true: he never loved his wife, he did care for her during those sick years, he is interested in the younger lady, she likewise is interested in him, they have never professed their love openly nor proposed marriage. No, he did not murder his wife. So, Poirot accepts the assignment and like the many-headed Hydra, must investigate every major talking head to discover the original source of the rumors, and discover whether there is any real truth to the rumors.

The Case of the Thing that Whimpered by Dennis Wheatley is excerpted from his collection Gunmen, Gallants & Ghosts (London: Hutchinson, 1943). It features psychic/paranormal/ghost-hunting investigator Neils Orsen, a Swede with bizarre facial structures and features. No doubt the tale was originally published in a magazine or newspaper, but I’ve yet to trace the original source.

In The Unhappy Piano-Tuner, Julian Symons’ popular detective character Francis Quarles is visited by the titular character who is married to a unfaithful woman. Requesting Quarles aid in fixing his marriage, the detective rejects the assignment, but takes up the “case” as the woman is found dead and the tuner is held on the charge of murder! The evidence? An open bottle of wine…poisoned. Did the distraught husband commit the crime? The room boarder? The milk man? This tale originally appeared in the 20 July 1950 edition of London’s The Evening Standard.

Eric Allen presents Strong-Arm Man, a short story spanning a few pages and culled from London’s The Evening News, 5 January 1953. The body-guard is assigned to escort a jeweled lady from a flight but she inexplicably slips him the envelope containing said jewels while the drifts away briefly. In walks a man insisting that he has already kidnapped said lady, and wishes to offer cash for the jewels, in exchange for the safe return of the lady. The guard decides not to play ball, and slaps a cuff on his wrist and the other’s wrist, when inexplicably the woman re-enters the scene, not kidnapped at all, and claiming to have been looking all over the place for him. He uncuffs himself and attaches the cuff to her and the briber! Appears she isn’t the real McCoy and he knew that before any of this nonsense transpired. An absurd story that could have been better developed as a longer feature.

Driver’s Seat debuted in This Week magazine on 25 March 1951 under the title Lady, You’re Dead!. It features Inspector Queen and his son, Ellery Queen, solving the unbreakable case. Four brothers own a business. Each own an equal cut. One dies. That cut goes to his widow. The three brothers have squandered their earnings and have fancy women. The widow plays her hand at the board meeting. She knows each brother has been quietly selling off a percentage of their stock to finance their foolishness: gambling, cars, women, etc. The original “contract” drafted between the brothers legally states that when one owns a majority of the stocks, they have the right to buy out the remaining stocks. She’s been buying their sold stocks through “dummies.” The boys have one week…and then…they are OUT. Mortified, they consult their lawyers. She’s right. She’s also found murdered on the day they are to receive their buy-out checks. Stabbed. A rain coat is found sodden on the premises. It belongs to the brothers. Which brother? They are all the same size. Wear the same jacket. And each is covering for the actual killer. Ellery enters the scene and informs his father the killer make a grave mistake in leaving the jacket, as one side is more sodden than the other. It belongs to the man that stuck his arm out the right-hand window to make “signals” while driving (yes boys and girls, in the old days, we used arms, not electronic turn signals, just like on bicycles). Well, one of the brothers drives an imported British auto, which obviously has the steering wheel on the right side of the car, not the left. So, he’s clearly the killer. I say…Why?!?!?!? All the jacket proves is that the fool left it behind. It doesn’t prove he did the deed. So, I find a flaw in this decisive conclusion, and so would any lawyer.

Victor Canning’s The Cautious Safe-Cracker is more of a humorous irony tale than a mystery. Originally published 4 July 1954 in This Week magazine, the protagonist is a bad-luck safe-cracker that strives for one last big hurrah. Carefully planned to the last detail, he enters the widower’s home, opens the safe, extracts the jewels…only to discover the man-of-the-house dead. Cause of death was likely a heart attack, on the way down to the floor he smacked his head and bled. The thief is in a predicament. Caught with the jewels, he’ll surely hang for murder. Unable to simply toss the jewels back in the case and pretend he never was there, he steals out into the night, tosses the jewels into an abandoned, long-unused well, walks into town, and does his utmost to establish an alibi. All goes awry. He tosses a brick through a storefront window. Nothing. Enters, steals from the cigar shop. Nothing. The dog doesn’t assault him. The owner doesn’t wake. Good grief. Realizing it’s a botched attempt, he makes to leave. The dog suddenly decides to maul him. Screaming, the owner wakes, and the cops finally make an appearance. He’s arrested, jailed, serves his time, gets out, goes to retrieve the jewels…only to discover the town has filled the well with cement and erected a monument to the memory of the dead man on the well’s site.

Like the preceding tale, this one is meant to be one of irony, and less about mystery. Peter Cheyney’s The Humour of Huang Chen involves two rival Chinamen and their murderous raiding gangs in old 18th century China, always trying to one-up the other. In this case, Huang Chen’s rival (Li-Tok) raids one of his areas, murdering everyone. Some of his loyal men escape, and along for the ride, they have captured an imminent physician. He is blind and without tongue. Huang Chen takes one look at the man, orders him to be isolated in a bamboo cage, then orders his gorgeous daughter brought before him. Arriving, he gives her instructions to go out with a small escort and be captured by his rival. She does, and is. Li-Tok sends a letter courier noting that he has captured Huang Chen’s daughter, and desires a trade. The girl for the physician. Huang Chen naturally agrees. The trade is made, and later, he has a letter sent to Li-Tok, noting he planned the swap, for the imminent physician has the plague. Honestly, a flawed tale. Obviously those that were in immediate contact with the plague-ridden physician of Huang Chen’s men would have been likewise infected. Online sources note the earliest known appearance of this story appears in the Peter Cheyney collection You Can’t Hit a Woman and Other Stories (London: Collins, 1937). According to an Australian newspaper that syndicated the tale mid-1937, it originated in the Birmingham Weekly Post. This likely was in 1936, as I found the tale syndicated in England, very late 1936. Unfortunately, the BWP has not been indexed that far back as yet.

Dorothy L. Sayers’ The Inspiration of Mr. Budd originally was published in the American weekly pulp Detective Story Magazine for the 21st November 1925 issue and next year in the UK via Pearson’s Magazine, March 1926. The tale is not one of mystery. Budd is a down-on-his-luck hair stylist. A series of bad luck and tarnished family has led him to be impoverished and bear a tainted name, so he moves his once successful business to London to disappear. Subsequently, he has aspired to win every sort of lotto, prizes, etc., that turns up from businesses, in newspapers, etc. Just now, he is reading in the local paper that there is a 500 Pound bounty / reward for genuine information leading up to the arrest of a wanted man. Ironically, a man fitting the very description enters his establishment requesting his hair style to be changed, a trim and coloring, claiming his current girlfriend doesn’t like his current look. Budd realizes the man is a fraud, with a fake hair dye already covering the man’s real hair. But, how to confront or capture the man? He doesn’t have the nerve nor the training, and reflecting back on the ad, recalls the reward was for information, not actual detainment. Mixing up a special dye concoction, he finishes the assignment and the man departs. Budd wastes no time in rushing to the authorities and imparting his knowledge, and, just what he did to the man’s hair. That’s the joke! He created a dye concoction that turned the man’s hair absolutely green! Word is rushed to all outlets. The police learn a man matching the description is holed-up on an outbound vessel, and has requested a hair stylist. They bust in and arrest a man with green hair. Budd attains the reward and, suddenly, a rich elitist pays his shop a visit desiring her hair to be turned green so that she can brag to be his first legal customer after the sensationalized arrest of the wanted man.

With A High Tension Lead by Roderic Graeme filling out the remaining allotted fiction pages, I’m direly hoping against all odds for a genuine mystery story. Unfortunately, I do not know where this story originates, as this certainly can’t be the first publication, can it? The son of famed Blackshirt creator Bruce Graeme (whose full name is actually Bruce Graham Montague Jeffries), Roderic Graeme Jeffries presents me with a solid crime story. A young man arrives home to find his aged uncle dead, stabbed in the back. He informs his sister (they both live with the deceased). The vast property and money was mostly willed to the pair, with the rest divvied up among other parties, etc. However, it’s learned the will had been destroyed the day prior. Bizarre… Motive? Was someone written out of the will? Was there an argument? Police swarm the scene, dust for prints, etc. An investigator makes an appearance and begins to interview the sister first, for about an hour. He then moves on to the brother, and asks all sorts of questions and makes unusual comments along the way. The story title concerns that the young man’s car had a problem and he drove it home despite this. The investigator thinks he a fool for doing so, and elaborates why. This brilliant mystery is solved in typical Hercule Poirot fashion by a seemingly obnoxious investigator, and I’m not going to reveal the how and why of it. Bizarrely enough, JRG is only credited with two short stories on FictionMags. When his father tired of authoring Blackshirt novels, the son took up the series, cementing his name in history with his father.

The Creasey Mystery Magazine concludes with a book review section credited to Mr. Creasey (and going so far as to recommend one under his alias of Jeremy York) and an article by Michael Underwood concerning the metropolitan police.

2015 July 21: Creasey Mystery Magazine # 1 (August 1956)

[The] Creasey Mystery Magazine (v1 n1, August 1956) UK: Dalrow Publishing
NOTE: the first three issues sported identical covers in different colors

Edited by Leslie Syddall and John Creasey.

The lead is John Creasey’s own new short story, The Toff and the Terrified Lady, a short novelette of 16 pages. Richard Rollison has Jolly tail a young lady that is in fear for her life, running from two “dark” men. Later learned that she is a jewelry model, and coerced into allowing herself to be taken and the jewels heisted. Held hostage is her brother’s baby child.

Next up is Agatha Christie’s popular Hercule Poirot in The Arcadian Deer. Here we have an ass of a detective that is preeningly full of himself. I found him loathsomely pompous. While traveling out into the countryside, his super wealthy high-maintenance automobile has “car”-diac arrest (ha ha) and he demands a chambermaid light a fire and serve him. Good grief. Rude prick. (Thankfully this was a vintage tale, else she’d service him in other ways!) Whilst stuck in this faraway village, a young man approaches him, and begs Hercule to take his meagerly saved earnings to track a young lady he fell in love with. Remarkably, he takes on the task, and travels through various countries on his own funding (the young man scarcely had the funds to allow himself the honor of buffing Hercule’s shoes!)…eventually it is found the girl is dead, but, things aren’t adding up quite right….

Orchids on Monday by Dennis Wheatley was a pleasurably fun romp, more because the tale is not a detective yarn in the normal sense. When a fellow falls visually for a young lady, after dropping her off at her house, he desires to find SOME WAY of introducing himself to her (that isn’t sleazy or creepy). Coincidentally, he sees an ad in the newspaper with her home address and the cryptic “orchids on Monday” inserted. A clue? Was she reaching out to HIM? He finds her not at home, waits in the bushes only to espy another fellow drive up and walk her inside. Not one to give up, he waits…and waits…the fellow comes out but ushers in two hoodlums! What is going on here?

Louis Golding delivers a Foolproof Murder. It’s your typical “hate” story, as the undefined reason for murdering someone else. Opportunity presents itself during a fireworks holiday but he hears the soon-to-be-deceased utter that he knows the killer is in the fog. The crime is committed, the man dies, and our killer runs away, but the ghost of the death haunts him and he returns to the scene of the crime only to be goaded to his own death by either the voice of the ghost or simply a voice in his own head…which?

American crime writer Dashiell Hammett joins the fray with The Farewell Murder. The story is annoying (to me) because the detective’s name is never given. Granted, those in-the-know are aware that the character is the Continental Op, and that in truth, DH never reveals his name in ANY story. Further, he employs dishonest methods to bring his case(s) to a finale. Sure, why not? Happens in real life all the time… When a wealthy man is murdered, all eyes are turned upon the man who has reportedly been submitting death threats. But DH never gives readers a simple read, nor a simple solution. One thing is certain: the thin man is not the hero, nor was he in the movies…(thank you, Hollywood! Idiots.)

Victor Canning’s The Key made me wish I had taken speed-reading lessons as a youth. ‘Nuff said.

The Case of the Frightened Promoter by Julian Symons features the regular Francis Quarles, who is to investigate death threats. He decides to blow off the case as irrelevant and the supposed killer, as inept. But when the man is found bludgeoned to death to the point of zero facial recognition, Quarles reinserts himself and unwraps a scheme dating back many years…

Beyond a doubt, the worst tale is the short-short Death Runs Wild! by Nigel Morland, featuring the dreadful Mrs. Pym. The tale ends absurdly with her merely staring a man down until he confesses. Gag!