Susanna, Don't You Cry!

 Susanna, Don't You Cry! (1946) by Mary Plum

"Murder is Murder and ghosts is ghosts and maybe the twain have met." ~Butch Milstone

Susan Marquette returned home early from a visit to an old friend in Chicago. and was shocked to learn from the taxi driver (an old friend) that her uncle James Blackett had died. She's especially concerned because the reason for her early return is a not she received from her uncle which indicated there was some trouble.

I want to talk to you. You'd better know what those crooks are up to. They'll get the Spreading Arms over  my dead body, but they're a trick bunch of thieves and you'd better know.

Susan should be his heir but no one contacted her to tell her about the death....or the inquest...or the funeral. Not his lawyer (who should have been trying to contact the next of kin. And not even her sister. She can't understand why. There also seems to be some mystery about whether or not she is her uncle's heir and whether there's anything to inherit if she is. All he seems to have had to leave is a huge and heavily mortgaged inn--the Spreading Arms. Susan also has doubts about her uncle's death--she learns that the inquest was rushed and there was no autopsy even though the circumstances were very odd indeed. 

Supposedly Uncle Jim went out rowing, overdid it, and his groggy heart gave out--so he fell in and drowned. But nobody told the court about the injury on the back of his head or the fact that there were no oars to be found. When she discovers the oars stored under the pier, precisely where her uncle always kept them her doubts increase. And when she finds out that the banker who held the mortgage on the inn has made a lucrative deal (along with a couple of politicians) to sell the inn to the Armed Forces so it can be converted into an Army Hospital, she's even more sure that something is rotten in Portland, Iowa. 

Two injured soldiers--one of whom is the son of the banker--show up at the inn because Uncle Sam has ordered them to the hospital. Nobody has told the government that the deal hasn't quite gone through and the hospital isn't operational yet. When Henry Curwood & his pal Butch Milstone hear Susan's story, they also suspect that something rotten is going on. Henry doesn't believe his father is the villain of the piece, but he's determined to get the bottom of it--no matter who the villain is. Susan, Anna, Henry and Butch all start investigating and find themselves in the middle of a plot that includes random thousand dollar bills, a stolen car, a "ghost" that pops in and out of cellars, a bank clerk's sudden resignation, and a certain character who has been double-dealing all along. It will take a few more deaths and a near-fatal attack on Susan before they'll produce the right culprit. 

This started out slow and I had to wade through a rather confusing scene when the soldiers arrive at the inn--everyone seemed to be talking at cross-purposes and/or in riddles. But once that was over, things picked up and moved quickly. Our four sleuths tracked down the necessary clues and made sense of the mystery in a tidy and nicely thought-out plot. I enjoyed Susan and Henry and watching everything unfold. Their banter back and forth (some quoted below) reminded me of Peter and Harriet on the beach looking for clues in Have His Carcase. It has a light and frothy air, but it is also good solid entertainment and a decent mystery. ★★★ and 1/2

First line: Early June and already hot enough for the annual demonstration of frying eggs on a sunny sidewalk!

Is this where we start detecting? That must be the sand bar; it's the only one in sight anyhow. Looks as though Hercule Poirot, Mr. Fortune, Please, Asey Mayo, and Herr Hambledon Esquire had all precede me. Why can't people be more careful? Even my genius cannot find clues if all the riffraff of Scotland Yard and the FBI is permitted to run wild before my arrival. (Henry Curwood; p. 110)

HC: What do we do first?

SM: I haven't the least idea. I supposed you'd know. What sort of sleuth are you, anyway?

HC: Magnificent. Bunter, my camera and portable darkroom, please.

SM: I hadn't space for them and the calipers too.

(Henry Curwood, Susan Marquette; p. 111)

Last line: Ah well, tomorrow was another day!

Deaths = 3 (one hit on head; one shot; one car accident)