The Man Who Didn't Fly

 The Man Who Didn't Fly (1955) by Margot Bennett

Four men--Joseph Ferguson, Maurice Reid, Harry Walters, and Morgan Price--decide to book a private plane for Dublin. They all claim to have business in Ireland and plan to come back to their family and friends at home. But those who saw the plane start its westward journey across England tell of a fireball that plunged into the Irish Sea. But when an investigation is mounted, the police find that only three of the men joined the pilot in that disastrous journey. The difficulty is finding out which man didn't fly. No one who saw the men--from the bus driver who took passengers to the airport to the barman at the small airport to the men who helped get the plane ready can swear to which men were actually there. There were too many other people milling about and there was no reason to take special notice of any of them. The only things the detectives assigned to the case have to go on is a half-heard conversation that mentions Australia...or maybe South Africa and the fact that at least one of the men might have smoked and might have had a silver cigarette case.

It is odd that the man who didn't fly doesn't come forward. Did he somehow arrange for the plane to go down? If so, how? And why? The investigation comes to center on the family left behind--listening to their version of what happened in the days leading up to the plane's take-off. Other clues crop up in the conversations and eventually the police are able to fit all the pieces of the jigsaw together.

I have to say that I'm not finding the revival of Margot Bennett stories to be very satisfying. I wasn't nearly as impressed with her The Widow of Bath as some of my Golden Age Mystery friends (see linked review) and The Man Who Didn't Fly was just as disappointing. This time around the characters are not nearly as well-drawn (though they are just as un-engaging). I had a hard time keeping all the men straight (Was "Uncle Joe" the one who might have been in the plane or was it Hester's father?). And, speaking of Hester--she may not be "bitter, dreary, and cruel" as I have described the heroine of Bath, but she's definitely not one of the shining lights of GAD leading ladies. Her relationship, such as it is, with Harry is not at all believable. Why on earth both she and her step-mother (?--I'm not really sure about the relationships of all the women in the case either) are both attracted to him is a mystery to me. And the rest of the women are just as unimpressive. Added to the lack of interesting characters is a lack of interesting detection. We've taken what could have been a very engaging mystery (the premise really hooked me when I purchased this copy) and dragged it out through an endless parade of "here's what happened--in excrutiating detail--on the Monday before they all left" and "here's what happened on Tuesday"...rinse and repeat for each day leading up to the plane crash. Even breaking up the recollections with other bits of investigation didn't help me. By time things picked up and we were finally getting some action and interesting discoveries I was too numb to even care. ★★

But--my friend Kate over at Cross Examining Crime gave this a glowing review--so your mileage may vary.

First line: At eleven in the morning the aeroplane began its westward flight across England; shining like snow under is blue sky; losing its glitter in the thick white clouds; passing, heard but unseen, over the Welsh hills.

"Would you be willing to say that one of them wore a hat?"
"No. and I'll tell you why. Because I didn't see. and, if I did see, I didn't remember. And if I didn't remember, it was because I was thinking of something else. And, if I was thinking of something else, it was the three thirty at Lingfield. And if I was thinking of the three thirty at Lingfield, there's no law against it." (Police detective, Mr. Crewe; p.4)

He is a poet in words. That is now of no importance. I am a poet of money. Words! We have too many words. Word poets talk all the time of love and death. People fall in love and they die and no amount of poetic advice has ever helped them to do either of those things more successfully." (Joe Ferguson; p. 55)

"Let me try curling my lip. Do you suppose when people curl their lips it's convex or concave?" She went to the glass over the mantlepiece. "It looks queer both ways. If I curl it up towards my nose it is worse, don't you think? People in those books must look odd most of the time." (Prudence Wade; p. 116)

Last line: She kissed him and there was nothing left of Harry, except a small handful of poems for the anthologies.
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Deaths = 5 (four airplane crash; one shot)