A review of Singing in the Shrouds by Ngaio Marsh – 230714

Singing in the Shrouds, the twentieth of Ngaio Marsh’s Roderick Alleyn adventures and published in 1958, is a curious affair, her series detective finding himself stuck on a ship, the Cape Farewell, en route to South Africa with nine passengers, one of whom is a serial killer. His task is to unmask the culprit and to prevent them from striking again. He succeeds in only one of his objectives.

A serial killer has been causing mayhem in London, their M.O being to strangle their victim, to lay flowers over their body, usually hyacinths, and then leave the scene singing a ditty. The so-called Flower Killer had struck twice before – we subsequently learn that there had been an earlier failed attempt – and just before the ship departs, a third victim is discovered. In her hand is part of a departure ticket for the Cape Farewell and the working assumption of the Yard is that the culprit must be a passenger. Alleyn joins the passenger incognito at Portsmouth.

Each of the nine passengers were either late boarding the ship or had reason to leave it for a little while shortly before the ship departs and so had the opportunity to commit the murders. They are the typically motley crew that a murder mystery seems to attract, consisting of Mrs Dillington-Blick, a man eater, Mr and Mrs Cuddy who are a boring middle class couple, Miss Abbott, a spinster of a somewhat masculine build who is an expert in early Church music, Merryman, a retired schoolteacher, and father Jourdain, an Anglo-Catholic priest. In a nod to modernity there is a TV celebrity on board, Aubyn Dale, who is on a break to calm his nerves after a couple of unfortunate slips on air, McAngus, an elderly bachelor, and providing the love interest, Jemima Carmichael, whose engagement has ended badly, and Dr Makepiece, who specialises in psychiatry.

Given the circumstances in which he finds himself in, all Alleyn can do is mingle with the passengers, observe and try to glean from their manner and conversation their state of mind. With the help of the captain, who steadfastly believes that Alleyn is on a wild goose chase, he sets up a game where each of the passengers are asked to give their alibi for the night of one of the murders. The answers are revealing and Alleyn wires the information to the ever-diligent Fox to follow up on.

Alleyn gives the reader an insight into his thoughts and progress through the letters he pens to his wife, Agatha Troy, with whom he fell in love on a long sea voyage, his experience allowing him to give sage advice to Carmichael and Makepiece. In the letters we learn that he is sure he knows the identity of the killer but does not want to make a move until he has sufficient evidence.

Shorn of his usual colleagues, Alleyn presses Makepiece and Father Jourdain into service. As this effectively rules them out and the consensus is that the women could not have committed the murders, this effectively reduces the suspect list to four. Nevertheless, Marsh does a good job of directing the reader’s suspicions in one direction and then another so that the identity of the culprit can come as a surprise to some.

One of the best bits of the book is the opening, very atmospheric and full of suspense, capturing the brooding menace of a foggy London to a tee. After such a cracking start it is inevitable that the pace of the book drops, but the characters and their interactions are interesting enough to keep the reader entertained. The ending, where Alleyn forces the murderer to reveal themselves in a rather underhand way, is also a highlight.

One feature of the book is Marsh’s portrayal of the non-heterosexual characters. The ship’s steward, Dennis, described as queer throughout and has a penchant for dressing up in Mrs Dillington-Blick’s extravagant dresses and dancing in the moonlight, a trait for which he pays with his life in a case of mistaken identity, is treated more as a convenient plot device than with any sympathy. Miss Abbott, clearly a lesbian, is also characterised with some acerbity, attitudes that were prevalent at the time but ones which the modern reader with heightened sensibilities might find disturbing.

Although I am not Marsh’s greatest fan, I found the book enjoyable.