Impossible Crime Reviews I

One of the most intriguing, inventive, and yet sadly underutilized mystery genres is the impossible crime story. This is a literary work in which a murder, robbery, or some other criminal act is committed in a manner that seems as though it could not be carried out by any normal or natural means. The most common form is the "locked room mystery" which is, as the name tells you, a murder that takes place in a room that has either all its entrances locked or under observation, yet somehow the killer was able to enter and escape without being seen or disturbing the locks. The earliest known literary example is Sheridan LeFanu's short story A Passage in the Secret History of an Irish Countess, which was later expanded into the novel Uncle Silas. It became more prominent, however, with the publication of Edgar Allan Poe's Murders in the Rue Morgue, long regarded as the first true detective story, and featuring two murders in an apparently locked room. From this beginning, many other aspiring writers attempted to create their own variation of the technique. A fair number relied on cheat gimmicks like secret passages and duplicate keys, but others developed their own original and highly creative solutions to explain how a killer could enter a guarded room unseen, do the deed, and escape without leaving a trace.

With the popularity of the locked room murder rising, new forms of impossible crimes began to develop as the years passed. Such common themes included: a corpse found in a stretch of snow, mud or sand with the only footprints around being the victim's, a murder committed with no sign of a weapon present, a person (or even a vehicle) vanishing despite being under (almost) constant observation, and other variations. As mentioned earlier, lesser writers relied on outlandish cheats to explain their solutions which only served to frustrate the readers. This only furthered the divide between the amateurs and the masters of the craft. Writers such as John Dickson Carr, Clayton Rawson, Joseph Commings, Christianna Brand, Edward D. Hoch, Paul Halter, and Akimitsu Takagi gained great renown for creating some of the most imaginative fair-play solutions to impossible crime stories, and even concocted their own scenarios which have been imitated over time. Simply speaking their praises wouldn't be enough to do them justice, however; their works must be read to fully understand how skilled they were in their craft.

As my own special tribute to this unique genre, I'm starting a series reviewing some of the most prominent impossible crime tales in literary history. I'll be discussing works from a variety of authors, covering the most renowned and the more obscure; the good, the bad, and the mediocre. My hopes are that this will encourage others to take an interest in this field and learn just how marvelously puzzling such mysteries can be.

Kicking off this series we'll begin with a look at the first locked room novella, published in 1891, which helped bring the field considerable notoriety and bolstered the popularity of the genre during the end of the 19th century and into the Golden Age of detective fiction. The author, Israel Zangwill, was known primarily more for social commentary and satire, and it's strongly reflected in the novella The Big Bow Mystery.

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

On a cold December morning in the Bow district of London, a dark specter is preparing to descend on the boarding house owned by Mrs. Drabdump. One of her lodgers, Arthur Constant, a prominent social activist and union agitator, has failed to rise for a tram-worker's meeting he's to speak at; repeated knocks at his door and calls from Mrs. Drabdump throughout the early hours earned no response. Fearing harm has come to her tenant, the landlady runs to the home of her neighbor George Grodman, a retired detective of great notoriety. Initially frustrated at being disturbed, Grodman's interest rises when Mrs. Drabdump says she fears that Constant is dead, possibly murdered. Rushing back to the boarding house they find the door to Constant's room locked and bolted. After breaking the door down Grodman runs in and reports that Mrs. Drabdump's hysterical concern has been proven correct – Constant is dead, his throat violently slashed like it had been cut with a razor.

Initially treated as a suicide, the matter becomes complicated when it's revealed that no weapon was found in Constant's room. Suspicion soon falls on Constant's fellow lodger Tom Mortlake, a friend sharing the deceased's socialist ideals, but who was reported to have argued heavily with the victim the night before the body was found. A helpful cabbie provides an alibi for Mortlake at the supposed time of the death. From there the mystery deepens. Police are baffled at how, if it was murder, the killer could have escaped from the room when both the door and windows were bolted on the inside and the chimney too narrow to make an escape, and how if it was suicide the weapon disappeared. And with such a seemingly impossible scenario, is Mortlake's alibi legitimate, or could he have managed to do the deed and still establish a plausible alibi? The mysterious murder quickly captures the public's eye and becomes a sensation as more is revealed about the victim's life and the curious details of the crime. Common people begin examining the case with almost as much scrutiny as the police, who are frantically trying to unravel the puzzle and bring Constant's phantom killer to justice… if they can.

The Big Bow Mystery has some unsteady pacing. Certain segments, particularly the first chapter, tend to drag on at points without contributing much to the story aside from exposition and some unnecessary descriptions, while other scenes such as the inquests and the rally in chapter 9 carry on at a quick pace and really grab your attention. The writing style is standard of the Victorian era and that is reflected in the dialogue; more prestigious characters speak eloquently while the lower-class have less-refined dialects reflected through intentional spelling mistakes. It's a mostly dramatic work with some comic elements interspersed, such as when one juror at an inquest, unable to rationalize how Constant's death could be murder or suicide, tries to submit a verdict that God was responsible for the death. Zangwill changes the format of the story depending on the situation: most segments are written as standard prose, inquests and court scenes are presented as a mix of prose and transcripts, and it even ventures into epistolary style when letters are presented from the public offering their answers to the mystery. I understand this shift in styles was common in Victorian literature, and here it doesn't hurt the pace of the story.

As an early mystery novella, it presents a stunning crime with an equally stunning revelation. The case is bloody, brutal, and looks impossible. Considerable time is spent by both law enforcement and everyday people discussing how it could have been pulled off, with a number of imaginative theories offered (a minor nitpick I have is that the actual solution is presented early on as one of the suggestions made early on in the story.) Zangwill presents the ongoing investigation of the crime through multiple sets of eyes; the public's growing interest, Grodman's unofficial investigation, and the official investigation by Scotland Yard headed by Detective Edward Wimp. There is a strong rivalry between Grodman and Wimp (one of the first examples of rival detectives on a case), with a focus on how both of them carry out their own investigations. There are plenty of dead ends, red herrings, and speculation about not only how the crime was committed but what the motive was (such as when stories arise of Mortlake and Constant fighting over a woman they were both attracted to). In the end, the true solution as to the identity of the murderer and how the crime was pulled off isn't really dependent on physical evidence, but more on opportunity and misdirection. The killer's motive, though it may seem cliché now, was probably quite shocking for the time.

Sticking to his roots, Zangwill peppered his mystery with social commentary. The uproar of the public over the case as the press feeds them with more and more alluring details demonstrates the impact sensationalist media has on society. Characters with socialist leanings, like the author, are depicted as being nearly flawless. No one is cast in too unflattering a light, though there are some pointed barbs against the police. None of this plays a key factor in the solution of the case, but it does provide an impressive depiction of life during that time.

All in all, The Big Bow Mystery is an impressive work. It's not perfect, and could do without some of its padding, but it's a very enjoyable read. It has a well thought out and cleverly constructed mystery, intriguing main characters, and provides a captivating look at the society of 1890s London. A fine beginning for novel and novella-length locked room mysteries.

The Big Bow Mystery is in the public domain and can be read in its entirety at various sites such as Freeread Australia (freeread.com.au/ebooks/c00062.…)