Reprint of the Year: Murder at the College

 In 2018, Kate at Cross Examining Crime came up with brilliant brainstorm. In the wake of various publishing houses recognizing the virtues of Golden Age (and more recent) vintage crime novels through reprint editions of both well-known and more obscure titles, Kate thought those of us who love those vintage mysteries would like the chance to feature the year's reprints and make a pitch for our favorites to be voted Reprint of the Year. We loved the idea so much that we have mande it an annual event.

So, last Saturday and this, I and my illustrious colleagues Aidan, Brad, Hayley, Janet,  Jim, John (Pretty Sinister Books), John (Countdown John), Puzzle Doctor, Karen, and Kate will feature our picks of the 2022 reprint crop and make our best bid for reprint stardom.

Originally, my second pick was supposed to be Peter Cheyney's Dangerous Curves (1937--reprinted this year by Dean Street Press). I had read a couple of Cheyney's work before and enjoyed them, so I thought this would be a good chance to get another of his books off my teetering TBR stacks. Yeah. Not so much. If we were doing Anti-ROY Awards, then this would be my nominee for that. I wasn't expecting a poor example of a hard-boiled detective transplanted to England with lots of derogatory racial tidbits thrown in for good measure. Bottom line--DON'T vote for Dangerous Curves for Reprint of the Year.

Instead, turn your attention to Murder at the College (1932) by Victor L. Whitechurch--reprinted this year by Oleander Press. There is nothing I love more than an academic mystery...unless it is a really good academic mystery with a hint of impossible crime thrown in. While this is not a strict rendering of an impossible crime, it does appear throughout most of the story that it is impossible for any of the suspects to have gotten in and/or out of the room during the critical time period without being seen. Our up-and-coming young Detective Ambrose spends a great deal of his time figuring out who was where when and could they have possibly committed the crime and gotten out of the room in small time fram allowed. 

But what is the book about? you ask. A group of architecture enthusiasts who make up a diocese board meet on Tuesdays in the college rooms of one of their members, Sidney Henlow. There they decide whether renovations and changes fancied by churches throughout the area meet aesthetic standards and should be allowed. They normally break for lunch at one and go out to various pubs and restaurants for their mid-day meal. On this particular Tuesday,  Henlow is away but has arranged for the rooms to be ready as usual. When the morning's business is finished, Francis Hatton breaks with habit and stays behind in the rooms to eat a brown bag lunch and write letters. But when the other members return, they find Hatton stabbed to death in a chair by the fire.

Workmen had been hard at removing flagstones and digging a large hole for drainage right at the bottom of the staircase all morning and were only gone from the site for a short time during the lunch hour. The porter was also away from his post for just a short while. All say that no unknown party came through the college while they were on duty. An office clerk across the street from the college (and who, coincidentally, has a very good view of the windows of the rooms in question) also helps narrow the time in which the murder could have taken place. If "helps" is the word, because the more Detective Ambrose of the Exbridge police learns, the more certain it becomes that none of the likely suspects had time to commit the deed and get in and out of the rooms without being seen. It also doesn't help that there doesn't seem to be a whiff of a motive--unless you count the quarrelsome county squire who wasn't too happy that Francis Hatton came and looked at his proposed design for a new stained glass window for his local church and predicted that the board would turn down the proposal. Would the squire really kill over a stained glass window--even given his volatile temper? Evidence then comes to light that indicates that Hatton fancied himself a bit of an amateur crime-solver. Did his detecting ways lead to his death? Ambrose must decipher cryptic notes left behind in Hatton's notebook titled "Detection Problems" before he will see his way clear to the solution of Hatton's murder.

Okay, sounds interesting. But why should I vote for it as Reprint of the Year? Well, this is just a delightful book. If you like college-settings, then this is a book for you. If you like interesting characters, then you'll find some here. If you like cryptic clues, then Whitechurch has you covered. If you like a surprise ending, then he manages to give you that as well. If you're just looking for a fun, fast-moving read, then here you go. Whitechurch ticked off so many boxes that needed covered for me, that I'm tempted to sit down and read it again just for the pure pleasure of experience. There is a slight disappointment at the end (which is more a "me" thing than a Whitechurch thing), otherwise I would probably give this five stars. That's how much I enjoyed it.

There is one trope that frequent readers of mystery stories may feel is obvious or over-used, but at the time of publication I'm sure it was more surprising for Whitechurch's readers. I can appreciate how much it would have baffled readers of the time. I did spot what had happened before Ambrose did, but that didn't detract from my enjoyment and I hope that it wouldn't detract from yours. Overall, just a really fun mystery reading experience. ★★★★ and 1/2.

First lines: "Hallo! There he is again. First Tuesday in the month, as per usual."

Last line: I congratulate you, however, on the efficiency of your detective officer; and, though, I presume it would be useless to ask you to convey what are my heartfelt regrets to Miss Hatton--regrets which will burden me for the rest of my life, perhaps you will deem it no hypocritical sentiment on my part if I beg you, as one of the friends I had at Exbridge, though you judge me as I deserve to be judged, at least to pray for me. 

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Deaths = 3 (two natural; one stabbed)