Death in High Heels

 Death in High Heels (1941) by Christianna Brand

Brand's debut mystery takes place in a posh dress shop where Mr. Frank Bevan, proprietor and manager, is getting ready to shake things up. Everyone is sure that he is going to send Miss Doon (his especial favorite) off to manage the sales floor of a new branch in Deauville. But at the last minute, those honors go to Miss Gregory, Bevan's secretary and right-hand girl. Miss Doon was set to go to lunch with Bevan to celebrate her promotion--but winds up having lunch in the staff room instead. Hours later, Miss Doon is dead from oxalic poisoning--some crystals were apparently sprinkled on her portion of curried rabbit.

Where did the oxalic acid come from, you might ask. Well, Mrs. Rachel Gay and Mrs. Victoria David had gone to the chemist's to get a small quantity to use to clean straw hats. The stuff gets spilled twice and a number of the staff have an opportunity to get their hands on some of it. When Inspector Charlesworth comes to investigate the suspicious death, he finds that some had opportunity to get the poison, but no opportunity to use it on the food. And some had plenty of opportunity to use it, but no opportunity to get hold of it. And among those who had both there are few motives for doing away with Miss Doon. Then another near-poisoning happens and Charlesworth is baffled. Another inspector is brought in to help clear the muddle and then....Charlesworth has a flash of insight while interviewing one of the suspects. Has he finally solved it? 

Honestly, I found this quite exasperating. Throughout 90-some percent of the book Inspector Charlesworth is a most unpromising detective. There are points of interest that absolutely escape him and I can't believe it took 162 pages (and another inspector pointing it out) for him to confront the idea that maybe the intended victim wasn't really the person that died. I'm not saying that's the solution--maybe it is and maybe it isn't--but it was an obvious thing to consider as soon as everyone had told the story of that last fatal luncheon. It also never occurred to him to go talk to the chemist who supplied the oxalic acid. And, then, of course, there's his weakness for lovely young women and the fact that he "just knows" that Victoria David couldn't have murdered and attempted to murder anybody. Fingerprints on a glass? Pooh-pooh. There must be an explanation. Or maybe we can just pretend they aren't there. Again, I'm not saying she really is guilty (or that she really isn't), but I don't care for watching the detective tie himself into pretzels to avoid considering her a legitimate suspect.

And then there's the pacing. This thing dragged...and dragged.We went through the evidence several times and went through convoluted discussions of who might have and who didn't and who could have and who possibly couldn't have and it twisted my thoughts into pretzel shapes. The best of the book was when Charlesworth was interacting with Sergeant Bedd (and Bedd is able to one-up him on a few points) and the scenes in the dress shop environment. I could tell that Brand had worked in a dress shop--the attention to detail really gives the reader a sense of the atmosphere of a high-class shop. I was also surprised by the ending--I had considered the culprit, but then got so sidetracked by the various solutions Charlesworth proposed and his mental gymnastics in avoiding fitting Victoria up as the villain of the piece that I lost sight of that particular solution. ★★ and 3/4--not quite a three-star read.

First line: Irene was always the first to arrive.

Last lines: "I beg your pardon, sir. The racing yacht?"

***************

Deaths = one poisoned