Hopjoy Was Here

 Hopjoy Was Here (1962) by Colin Watson

The police at Flaxborough receive an anonymous tip. Something nasty has happened at the home of of Gordon Periam. There was some sort of altercation in the bathroom and neither Periam nor his lodger, Brian Hopjoy have been seen since. Inspector Purbright and company find bloodstains in the bathroom, evidence of the use of acid, and something nasty in the drains. It looks like someone was done away with in a very ruthless manner. But who? Is it Hopjoy who has been dissolved? Or is it Periam? They've barely begun the investigation when a couple of MI5 men show up--apparently Hopjoy was one of theirs and they want to make sure that everything "hush-hush" stays hushed. So now Purbright has to figure out not only who (if anyone) has been killed and, if it's Hopyjoy whether his MI5 work resulted in his death or if it was something more prosaic (like jealousy). The trail leads Purbright and the secret agents on a merry chase through gambling dens to a rural farm and from a fancy hotel to the seaside where an interesting item washes up.

Watson infuses his story with humor--most particularly in its send-up of the spy trade. The MI5 fellows see everything through their top-secret lens and so betting slips become secret codes and absolutely everything has a double-meaning. And they tend to think the local police are poor fish who just can't understand all this hush-hush business. But just maybe this time a murder is just a murder and not some sort of end game in a double agent duel. It's amusing to see Purbright and Sergeant Love get the better of the secret agent men.

Purbright is a great character with a very understated intelligence that works away at the everyday details while the MI5 guys run about looking for double agents in haylofts and betting parlors. The plot is well done too. Watson keeps switching things until you're just not sure who died, if anyone died, and if they did where are they? Quite a lot of fun. ★★★ and 1/2

First line: Never before had the inhabitants of Beatrice Avenue seen a bath carefully manoeuvered (sic) through one of their front doors, carried down the path by four policemen, and hoisted into a black van.

Last line: The inspector patted his arm kindly, "Oh, not Karl," he said, "Groucho."

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

Deaths = 4 (two natural; one strangled; one poisoned)