Nine--And Death Makes Ten

 Nine--And Death Makes Ten (apa Murder in the Submarine Zone; 1940) by Carter Dickson (John Dickson Carr)

January 1940. The story takes place on an ocean liner, the Edwardic, which has been converted to wartime use and carries a minimum number of passengers, a huge load of munitions, and one stowaway--murder. The passengers aboard ship are those in a big enough hurry to make the crossing from New York to England that they could stand the danger of entering the submarine zone with a boatload of explosives. Those passengers include a newspaper reporter recovering from a dangerous fall while covering a fire, a member of the NYPD on his way to collect a dangerous criminal, a blonde wrapped in sable with a mysteriously bulging pocketbook, a young woman with a mysterious mission, a French captain who is only seen at mealtime, the younger son of a Lord who has a serious case of seasickness (or the worst hangover ever...we're not too sure, a doctor, and British businessman who talks like a car salesman.

When Mrs. Zia Bey, the woman with the bulging bag, winds up murdered, Max Matthews--the reporter and brother of the ship's captain--is sure the arrogant young woman with the secret is involved. But there are too many questions that need answers--questions that don't seem to point to Miss Valerie Chatford. Whose fingerprints are pressed in blood on the murder woman's back? And why don't those prints match anyone on board? Who had been throwing knives in the passageway late at night? Who was the man wearing the gas mask and poking his head into other passengers' compartments? Fortunately, there is one more passenger on board the Ewardic...the Old Man himself, Sir Henry Merrivale. If anyone can figure this screwy case out, it's H.M.

I enjoyed this so much more than the last ship-board mystery by Dickson/Carr (The Case of the Blind Barber). That one came across as too much slap-stick and over-the-top. And there was not nearly enough of Gideon Fell. I was beginning to think that we were going the same route here with Merrivale--he doesn't show up until almost half-way through the book, but once he does, he's very present with all his "Burn mes!" and "for the love of Esaus!" And, of course, he spots all the clues that went right over my head. I should have noticed them, but I was too busy being entertained by H.M. 

I do have a couple of complaints though...First, why do all the little romances have to start off with the guy and the gal at odds? They both think the other is insufferable until suddenly at the very end (with no scenes to indicate a change in mood) they realize they can't do without one another. Seriously? And, second, I was expecting a motive with a little more oomph to it. Especially with all the certain kind of overtones we get (can't explain...because spoilers). It just seemed to fall a little flat. Otherwise, this would have been a five-star winner--great characters, I love a mystery on a ship, nicely done clues (that I missed), and a lot of fun with Merrivale. As it is...★★★★

First line: Painted battleship-gray, the line lay by the pier at the foot of West Twentieth Street.

I have come across this sort of thing in books and films; but, by all the gods, I never imagined it could happen in real life. Do you seriously imagine that you, or any other woman outside a story, can get away with that? Do you think you can tell what you choose to tell, and keep back what doesn't suit your purpose; and then look like a matyr and say you're sure some poor goop will trust you? They ruddy well won't. I won't. (Max Matthews; p. 58)

But, if you ask me, this whole case is screwy. It sounds like Nick Carter. First the bloody thumb-mark, and now the packet of papers. If you can only dig up a hypodermic full of strange Indian poison... (John Lathrop; p. 67)

It's the infantile mind that planned this murder, and every detail of the business. That's what you're dealin' with, son; arrested development in an adult. What makes it worse is that it seems to be an adult of caution and brains as well; and that's an awful bad combination. (Sir Henry Merrivale; p. 74)

Last lines: But as the orchestra struck up at signal from Commander Matthews, they sang God Save the King. And never had those words been sung more strongly, never was more sincerity poured from the heart, than when those strains rose to the roof, and the great gray ship moved up the Channel; and, steady as a compass-needle in death and storm and peril and the darkness of great waters, the Edwardic came home.

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Deaths = 5 (one neck broken; one stabbed; one shot; one natural; one hit on head)