1958 classic English detective fiction; twentieth of Marsh's novels
of Inspector Roderick Alleyn. The passengers aboard the Cape
Farewell are travelling to South Africa; but it seems that the Flower
Murderer who's been plaguing London is among their number.
So it's Alleyn versus a serial killer (which I know is an
anachronistic term), and that means a significant change in the
processes of detection and deduction. Trying to work out why will
be, by definition, pointless.
"These cases," he said, "are the worst of the lot from our point of
view. We can pick a card-sharp or a conman or a sneak-thief or a
gunman or a dozen other bad lots by certain mannerisms and tricks of
behaviour. They develop occupational habits and they generally keep
company with their own kind. But not the man who, having never
before been in trouble with the police, begins, perhaps latish in
life, to strangle women at ten-day intervals and leave flowers on
their faces.
Instead Alleyn has to concentrate on who, out of the small number of
passengers, is actually a murderer rather than just a horrible person;
he's somewhat assisted by his team at home checking alibis, and he
hopes he can reach a conclusion before someone else dies.
This is also, almost inadvertantly, a book of the last days of
passenger ships: oddly there isn't really much sense of the end of an
era here, though 1958 is the year both the Comet 4 and Boeing 707 came
into service, and mixed cargo/passenger ships like the Cape Farewell
wouldn't have been long for this world. It may just be Marsh's
misanthropy, but after reading this one of the great appeals of the
jetliner seems to be the chance to avoid being stuck for days on end
and forced to socialise with some of these people, even if it also
means no more shipboard romances.
Still, the story fairly rattles along even if the journey wouldn't.
Marsh makes good use of the enclosed setting, and rapidly clears the
crew (including the terribly stereotyped gay steward, though Alleyn at
least treats him with some respect) to determine that the killer must
be one of the passengers. There's the young couple falling in love, of
course, the sexpot, the Most Obvious Suspect, the spinster, the
television celebrity, the horrid middle-aged couple who have no ear
for social cues and will always say the vilest thing possible…
(And some people see classism there, but the Cuddys' sin is not that
they don't know Shakespeare, it's that they're unable to be part of a
conversation that touches on things they don't know, and like
self-centred children must constantly make everything about them and
their interests.)
Miss Abbott felt angry with Mrs. Dillington-Blick because she was
being silly over three men. Mrs. Cuddy felt angry with her because
three men were being silly over her…
Several of the characters may be fairly awful, but they're still
interesting, which is a tough trick to pull off. The murderer's
psychology is unconvincing, but Alleyn seems to find it just as
implausible as I did, more an excuse than an explanation. Alleyn is
the only recurring character, though, which I suppose might make this
a good point to start if you don't want to begin at the beginning.
Followed by False Scent.
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