A review of Inquest by Henrietta Clandon – 231223

One of the many noms de plume which the prolific writer, John Vahey, used was Henrietta Clandon. I have not read any of Vahey’s books before and Inquest, originally published in 1933 and reissued by Dean Street Press, is the first he published under the guise of Clandon. It is at times witty, with some sharp observations and the characters are well drawn.

The book’s set up treads very familiar ground, a country house party albeit with a twist. Six months before the book begins a businessman, William Hoe-Luss, had died at his French chateau, having eaten some poisonous mushrooms and then falling down some stairs. The French officials acted quickly, ruling that it was accidental, that the mushrooms were the principal cause and the body was cremated. There are suggestions, though, that all was not as it seemed and his widow, Marie, who was the principal beneficiary from William’s demise, invites all who were at the chateau at the time to her country house in England at Hebble Chase to rake over the coals. A sort of inquest, you might say.

The story is narrated by Hoe-Luss’ physician, Dr Soame, the only member of the party who was not present at the chateau. He accidentally lets slip that the botanist in the party, Hector Simcox, is adamant that the type of fungi believed to have poisoned Hoe-Luss was not to be found growing on his French estate. Not long afterwards, Simcox too plunges to his death, having fallen from a window while apparently looking at some lichen on the house’s wall. Was it an accident or a murder and had his suspicions forced the killer to strike again?

It is interesting to see how different writers approach a similar subject. In some ways Inquest is a bit of a forerunner to Freeman Wills Crofts’ Mystery on Southampton Water, published a year later, in the back story which involves the discovery of a revolutionary manufacturing process, industrial espionage, and the fortunes of two companies. As is his wont, Wills Crofts plunges headlong into the nitty gritty of his case while the machinations of the two competing businessmen, Hoe-Luss and Caley Burton, the latter a guest at both the chateau and Hebble Chase, gradually emerge as if by osmosis.

The reasons for the difference in handling are twofold. Clandon chooses to make Dr Soame his narrator. While he does his own sleuthing, principally at the behest of Marie, he is on the periphery of the police investigations, principally relying on his position as police surgeon and his good relations with the Chief Constable, Tobey, and Mattock of the Yard to get any sort of insight into the direction and progress of the official investigations. Secondly, the British police have no official jurisdiction over Hoe-Luss’ death and have to concentrate on Simcox’s fall, a handicap that forces them to attack the kernel of the mystery from an oblique angle. These two structural problems weaken the book as a murder mystery with too much going on off stage for my taste.

Nevertheless, there is much to enjoy in the book where a stained dress shirt, a fibre from a face flannel, and the wrist actions of a polo player and an accomplished angler have important parts to play in a house which has convenient passageways to allow guests to move around unobserved. There are only two, three if you are stretching the point, credible suspects, but mainly through a notable parsimonious approach to sharing vital information, Clandon maintains the mystery until the end. Whether the rationalisation of what happened is enough to convince the jury is another matter.

However, for me the strength of the book is in Clandon’s writing, the characterisation and wit. The other three Dean Street Press reissues have joined my TBR pile.