Ngaio Marsh. Overture to Death (1939) The Vale of Pen Cuckoo: an inoffensive old house inhabited by a squire, his son, and his cousin. A plain old church and adjacent vicarage inhabited by the vicar and his daughter. A doctor with an invalid wife, attracted to a newcomer who is too smart by half. Two women of a certain age infatuated with the vicar, hating each other, and vying for the right to play the overture to the play. The play is put on to raise funds to replace the piano in the village hall. Someone rigs that piano with a gun aimed at the player. The gun goes off when the victim treads on the loud pedal.
Alleyn untangles the clues, manages to construct an accurate timetable, and finds that everything hinges on a box used to elevate a watcher to window level. The charm of the book is its character drawing. Marsh had a sharp eye for foolishness, and for the evil done by people who consider themselves respectable. She also has some sympathy for people who suffer from a stunted emotional life. Well done. ***
Ngaio Marsh. Death and the Dancing Footman (1942) Another case that’s solved by constructing a precise timetable, this time made possible a by a footman who dances to Boomps-A-Daisy, a popular tune he hears on the radio. The characters aren’t as interesting as usual. The setting is a weekend party that the host has deliberately arranged to bring antagonistic people together. We know from the beginning that this will result in murder. The puzzle is first, who will be the victim; and second, how it was done. A handy snow storm forces the unwelcome conclusion that the murderer is one of the guests.
Alleyn sorts it all, of course. The solution is suitably satisfying in terms of poetic justice, and a romance blossoms. Marsh has a soft spot for lovers. She also tries her hand at natural disaster: her description of a car journey through a snow-covered wilderness is a kind of set piece. ***
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