Lockridge, Frances and Richard - The Norths Meet Murder (1940)

The Norths Meet Murder is a fairly-clued book, in fact not too much of a stretch for a seasoned-mystery reader to figure out, I think. The pace is a bit leisurely; at times you wish the detective assigned to the case would stop running it over in his mind so much, or not spend so much time writing down lists and discussing them with his assistant at length, and just get on it with it. As you can tell by that kvetch, the Norths don't do much detecting in this one, much POV time is spent with soon-to-be-regular cast member, Lieutenant Weigand, who does a lot of ruminating and ordering his assistant Mullins around. I don't know if that stays the same in later books.

Weigand and Mullins are a deliberately incongruous pair that remind me a bit of Of Mice and Men. Another likeness, though there are as many differences, is to Inspector Queen and Sgt. Velie. Weigand's secret super power <g> is that he just doesn't look like a cop, and Mullins looks like nothing else. As they walk down the street passers-by inevitably think Weigand is in Mullins' custody and flash him a sympathetic look. The latter spends a lot of time complaining "Ah, Loot!" about cases that take brainpower to solve, that are "screwy" if they can't be solved in a back room with a rubber hose. Talk about changed attitudes! I think back then the implication was the police only arrested bad guys, so some persuasion was OK.

The Lockridges do a good job capturing the feel of the changing Manhattan of the time. Though New York is paradoxically always changing, in many ways it's always the same. I may have verged on complaining about Weigand's walks, but in one scene he walks from mid-town to lower Manhattan, and makes a point of contemplating the shop windows he passes. It may fill space but it's also fascinating. The Norths started out (being named after one of the positions in a bridge game) as non-mysterious slice-of-life columns in The New Yorker, and in parts of this book I can see why the pieces were popular. However, I don't think the Norths appeared in The New Yorker after they started being in detective stories.

{Extremely mild spoilers in passing below}

Another attitude that has changed is about drinking. The two cops (and the Norths) are constantly drinking, often to excess, and it's treated humorously, which you often see in old popular fiction. In their drinking habits the Norths remind me somewhat of Jake and Helene Justus, or Topper's Kerbys. The cops like visiting the Norths a lot because they are so free with their liquor; in another scene Weigand has a number of martinis in a bar and regrets they aren't as good as Mr. North's. He drinks constantly on the job, reserving "sorry, on duty" for suspects he doesn't like and when giving orders to Mullins.

Mrs. North even has a internal monologue towards the end where she measures whether she is at the right stage of drunkeness where she'll be "happy" without being physically-impaired. Well, I guess the authors are just being honest about the habits of the time. Although this is at the cocktail and dinner party the Norths have set up with Weigand in a plot to trick the killer into revealing him or herself. One might expect more caution under the circumstances. In fact, even though it's never mentioned in the book, one might consider drinking enough to be "loose" (Mrs. North herself has about five mixed drinks at the party) lowered the good guys' good sense enough that not only does one of them betray their growing realization of who the killer is by being unable to keep a straight face, but then falls easily into a spur- of-the- moment deathtrap by the murderer who sees the look of shock.

Fortunately, by the end of the case both Norths manage to survive. They announce they consider Weigand a real friend outside of policework, and invite him to drop by regularly for...no surprise... lots more drinks.

--Mike Blake