A Scream in Soho

 A Scream in Soho (1940) by John G. Brandon

Detective Inspector McCarthy (and all his neighbors) hears a scream ring out in the middle of a pitch-black night in Soho. No lights spring up--for we're in the middle of the black-out period in Britain. He makes his way to Soho Square--from whence the scream seemed to come--but the only evidence of an incident is a bloody doorway, a stiletto dagger, and an unmarked lady's handkerchief. Oh...and the lingering scent of a very distinctive perfume. There is no sign of a body or anyone who might have screamed. The constable who arrives on the scene is sure the scream came from a woman, but McCarthy thinks it was a man. It may be that they are both right. Before the night is over there will be three victims found...another police constable, an elderly food peddler, and a fashionable lady (who isn't quite...a lady, that is). And before the case is over McCarthy will find himself dealing with Italian gangsters, cross-dressing German spies, Austrian nobility, and a set of missing anti-aircraft defense plans.

This is just a plain fun thriller and espionage adventure. If you're looking for a classic whodunnit with clues and suspects and police interviews and whatnot, then this isn't it. McCarthy is a pretty atypical Yard Inspector. He totes a gun and works more with convenient civilians--particularly a cabman who's handy in a scrap and Danny the Dip whose picadilloes McCarthy overlooks in exchange for some shadowing duties--than he does with fellow officers. This makes McCarthy an appealing roguish hero--whose excellent record of detection keeps him from getting into trouble for his maverick ways. There isn't much doubt about who the bad guys are here, but it's interesting to watch McCarthy track them down and figure out a way to pin the murders and the espionage on them. I enjoyed this walk on the wilder side of World War II mysteries. ★★★★

First line: In that inexpressibly comfortable little Soho café, owned and managed by that dignified Italian lady, the Signora Lucia Spadoglia, Inspector McCarthy sat and waited.

Last line: "You'll either be looking for a job, or they'll make you an inspector--and then the good Lord look after you for nobody else will."

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Deaths = 5 (four stabbed; one natural [pneumonia])