Murder of the Bride by C S Challinor
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Murder of the Bride by C S Challinor (Midnight Ink Books, 2012) is inherently interesting on a number of counts. For books of this type to be regarded as a success, there must be an elegant mystery to solve. Preferably, clues should be lying about in plain sight so we can try to second-guess the detective. The experts or the lucky can then be triumphal. They’ve beaten the author at her own game. The rest of us lummoxes, can do the “aw shucks, why didn’t I think of that” routine when the reveal comes at the end. In this case, kudos to Ms Challinor who pivots neatly in the direction of her gaze before coming to the final explanation. I was my usual lummox self and failed to remember the finer points of our culture when it comes to naming people. This is a pleasing puzzle and, although the casual way the local doctor protects the confidentiality of his patients’ records is contrived, the investigation is credible and the author plays fair. Our series hero, lawyer and occasional detective Rex Graves, really does work it out on the basis of what he sees and hears.
So what’s it about? With brief introductions out of the way, we’re off to the wedding and a quick introduction to the potential killer(s) as the invitees gather at the church. Then we pile into the assortment of available cars and straggle past the pub to the local exercise in architectural vandalism with resulting deaths and the theft of some valuable nick-nacks. It’s a classic Golden Age situation with a reasonably closed number of suspects all milling around a wedding reception that’s spread over several “open” rooms with access to the rest of the building to anyone with the courage to walk upstairs or through unlocked doors. We then come to the second point of interest. All modern “detective” books must confront the problem of a nonprofessional inserting himself into an official investigation. In these modern times, the police on both sides of the Atlantic tend to be a little jealous of their role as the detectives, by default rejecting the help of well-meaning amateurs. Gone are the days of a Christie-style private detective acting as consultant to the incompetent authorities. Almost every modern “detective” must achieve success despite the opposition of the police. Since our hero is already present, is the first to suggest the cause of the problem when guests collapse, and is then left to his own devices with a lone inexperienced Police Constable on the premises, he can get a lot of the heavy-lifting done before a more senior officer arrives. He’s then conveniently recognised as having had success in the past (such is the price of fame) and is informally accepted as part of the team when he fairly quickly explains a part of the day’s events.
C S Challinor showing a fine head of hair
This gives him a licence to jump in a car (no problems with the alcohol level behind the wheel) and zoom down into the village to talk with key people and top up the alcohol level in the pub denied him before and after the church ceremony. The third point of interest is Ms Challinor observes the unity of time. Following on the European tradition which first really got started in the work of Racine, the action is continuous over a single day although, as to place, we do move around the village and its environs a little. This means our hero can get to the answer before officialdom shuts him out. On the subject of unity of place, I should mention a death at another location and a need to consider where steps might have been taken to make the murder(s) possible. But the point of view rigorously stays with Rex. Others report outside events to him and so they come within our consideration.
Finally, this is one of those books in which an American author who was educated in Britain, has chosen to base her series character in Scotland. From this auspicious location, Rex launches himself into investigations at various points around the UK, in Jacksonville and on one of the Caribbean islands. The authorial challenge is therefore to strike a balance between a necessary “Britishness” for many of the characters and the dictates of an essentially American reading audience. This is not simply about the spelling. Those who read with any kind of awareness tend to judge the success of any book on whether the creation of each character and mis-en-scène feels credible. For American readers, the author must supply just enough detail to match their stereotypes and prejudices. If there are to be British readers (of which I am one), some care must be taken not to unduly offend their sensibilities. At this point, I’m going to spend a moment being deeply unfair to the author. This is a book intended for the American market and an editor would quickly change details like ER to A&E for British publication. In this series, our Scottish barrister sleuth is on a roving commission to solve crimes in an array of destinations so it dilutes the language problem a little. He can say “och”, “verra” or something equally Scottish to remind us he’s got an accent and then carry on in standard English. Perhaps Ms Challinor should just have called him Hamish. Overall, the speech rhythms are good. I can “hear” English people talking like that. Now a few moans. In my pubby world, Guinness is not a beer, it’s a stout. But then, I’m eccentric and pedantic so all-comers can and should ignore what I say on the subject of ale. I was fascinated to find Rex’s lady, Helen, wearing a flannelette dressing gown in May. How practical of her. My grandmother used to wear flannelette. Finally, the idea of a well-off barrister, allegedly six foot four, folding himself into a Mini Cooper is remarkably down-market. Perhaps he doesn’t want to flaunt his higher status to other road users on his long and tiring commutes. With his income and at his age, he could afford something more comfortable for distance driving.
Putting these trivial points to one side, Murder of the Bride is a real success. The prose is lean and economical, the narrative structure is dynamic and the plot is ingenious. You can’t ask for more than that, no matter which side of the Atlantic you happen to prefer.
A copy of this book was sent to me for review.
