Vintage Murder (Book Review)

Ngaio Marsh Vintage Murder (1937) The manager of a theatre group on tour in New Zealand dies when a celebratory jeroboam of champagne drops at high speed and smashes his skull instead of floating gently down into the greenery decorating the party table. Alleyn’s on holiday, and lets himself be dragged into the case. The murder is prompted by that most common of motives, money. Rivalries and other relationships muddy the trail, but paradoxically it’s a character’s attempt to divert attention from another (actually innocent) one that at first stymies the police and then provides the clue that unravels the killer’s plans.
     The colonials are a little too deferential and eager to have Alleyn’s help, I think, but otherwise the book shows the steady increase in Marsh’s mastery of the novel. The characters, the local colour, the plotting are all more interrelated than in the earlier books. The resolution rings true to character, even if the puzzle is trickier than a real life one. I don’t read mysteries in order to spot the perpetrator before the detective Reveals All; a good deal of my pleasure comes from the aura of realism. This time it’s enhanced by Marsh’s intimate knowledge of the theatre as trade, craft, and profession. Recommended. ***