Huxley, Elspeth - Murder at Government House (1937)
Disappointing early attempt at a detective story from an author who went on to succeed in less demanding fields. The British Governor of Chania in Africa is strangled in his office at Government House while a reception is taking place in the ballroom. Superintendent Vachell, head of the CID, is called in to investigate. The story begins as a classic locked-room puzzle, and some progress is made, but this peters out about a third of the way through the book. There follows a long and largely irrelevant digression about the adventures of a female anthropologist up-country. By the time we get back to Vachell many pages later the book seems to have become a thriller and we have an aeroplane chase after the wrong suspect, followed by a car chase after the right one, complete with gunplay and hair's-breadth escapes. Detectives who end up in hospital are clearly incompetent: detectives who let other people end up in hospital are unforgivable.
For detection purposes there are far too many red herrings, and important clues are kept from the reader, including the obscure device that provides the killer with an alibi. Huxley diminishes the interest of her own plot by bringing in too much local colour - it's hard to retain an interest in one murder when people are being casually bumped off by bloodthirsty tribal witchcraft. This particular edition (JM Dent Mastercrime, 1987) is badly proofread and adds insult to injury with its absurd cover picture, which shows a young black man as the murdered Governor.
There is one small point of interest, however; the female anthropologist, Olivia Brandeis, is described in the following terms: -
His neighbour cackled vigorously. A hideous laugh, thought Mark, with satisfaction. She had an untidy mop of black frizzy hair; small, beady black eyes; a round white face, with an alert expression; too heavy a jaw-bone.
And she talks as follows:
"You advocate the lifting of British conversational taboos; but at the first sign, however faint, of an infringement of the taboos -- when I say what comes into my head, which happens to be a personal remark -- you think 'Damn the woman, she's got no manners,' and kick me, mentally, into the outer darkness where non-pukka memsahibs go."
Is this an early incarnation of Mrs Bradley? A memorable character, in any event, from an unsatifying book.
Jon
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