A review of The Case of Elymas the Sorcerer by Brian Flynn – 231211

Rather like Gladys Mitchell, but in a good way, you are never quite sure what you are going to get with a Brian Flynn, a writer who was never satisfied with slipping into a tried and tested template. With its exotic title, the thirty-first in his Anthony Bathurst series, originally published in 1945 and reissued by Dean Street Press, The Case of Elymas the Sorcerer conjures up an image of a tale with magical and possibly Gothic overtones. In truth, though, it is a rather conventional tale of murder and organised crime, the theft of historic works of art to order.

There is one moment where weirdness obtrudes, when Bathurst visits a house in London where he is greeted by a grotesque dwarf and is presented with a tableau of a tarantula, and a coffin over which a woman in a white robe is grieving and quoting Shakespeare. While it certainly provides a vivid image, it feels somewhat out of place with the rest of the book and does not really fit in with the rest of the book.

The same can be said about the scenes featuring the village simpleton, Frank Lord, whose coincidental appearance at the field is ultimately shrugged off as a red herring. These incidents enhance the impression that this is a book of episodes where the author is experimenting and has not quite settled on its tenor and format.

Elymas the Sorcerer does play an integral part in the resolution of the story. It is the subject of one of the tapestries by Raffaele that has been stolen to order and its unexpected presence out of place provokes a reaction that gives the culprit, who has been fencing these artefacts, away.

The road to getting there is long and convoluted. Bathurst, convalescing from a spell of muscular rheumatism, is taking the sea air at St Mead, surely a nod of the head to Miss Marple from the king of pastiche, as a guest of Neville Kemble, the brother of the Commissioner of Scotland Yard, Sir Austin. The break turns into a busman’s holiday as a body is discovered in nearby Ebsford’s field. It is naked and there are signs that the corpse was shaved after death, presumably to hide its identity.

Bathurst is called in to help the local police and makes some headway by unearthing a potential informant who suffers the same fate, found naked and dead in Ebsford’s field before he can spill the beans. MacMorran is sent from the Yard to assist and gradually Bathurst begins to piece together what has been going on. His method relies more on educated guesses than solid deduction and the reader has not enough clues to have a chance of beating the amateur sleuth to the solution.

One of the book’s highlights is its treatment of the local worthies that make up the leading lights of the council at Kersbrook-on-Sea, the local town. They are bumptious, full of their own importance, stitch up business for their own advantage and Flynn clearly has fun in mocking them.

I have seen the book described as a curate’s egg. That is clearly wrong as the poor curate’s egg was more bad than good. The quality of Elymas the Sorcerer is varied, but Flynn has managed, as usual, to fashion an enjoyable and entertaining tale that intrigues as it moves towards its dramatic denouement. It is worth a read.