Here is a classic closed circle murder mystery set in a stately home that was the the style in the 20s and 30s, yet this was published in 1947. As she often does, Brand's authorial voice announces right at the start that we are about to meet 10 people, two of whom are soon to be killed and one who is a murderer. Even with that information, it isn't possible to figure out who did it as Brand is a master at setting a scene that quickly implicates every single person (except our intrepid Inspector Cockrill) and then, just as easily (as more information is discovered), proves that none of them could have done it. So: either the people are lying or the physical evidence is not what it seems...or both. It's both.
A complicated and emotional and wealthy family is the center of this story and, as is often the case, the patriarch is extremely disappointed with all his adult grandchildren because he (rightly believes) they have spent their adult lives squandering opportunities and embarassing themselves.
Sir Richard March: The wealthy grandfather who married a ridiculously beautiful woman, Serafita, who died after having three children. Those children all married, had children--the characters in this story--and then died, too. Serafita was a ballet dancer/actress whose portraits are all over the massive home. There is even a "small" (four large rooms) cottage on the property that has been turned into a kind of shrine that features a pair of her amazingly dainty ballet shoes literally on a pedastal. Brand repeatedly mentions how tiny they are and how large and clunky the feet of the two granddaughters are. The yardstick of excellence in this family is whether they could wear those shoes and it's obvious they cannot. The anniversary of Serafita's death is coming up and all family members (so the grand kids and one very young great grandchild) are required to show up and pay homage to her amazingness. And on the eve of that anniversary, when all are gathered together, Sir March announces he is going to cut all family members out of his will THAT NIGHT and have his lawyer arrive, witness the signing of the new will the next morning, and then take the only copy to the lawyer's office in town. Unsurprisingly, the old guy is dead within a few hours and the new will--if indeed one was ever made--is nowhere to be found.
Peta: the oldest and most beautiful grandchild--but she's no Serafita--is unmarried and so has no children, and is a bit of a flake. She almost just about could have been a ballet dancer (ooh--so close to being acceptable) but then she had a growth spurt and became long and leggy--more of a model than a dancer. So of no value to anyone, believes the old man.
Philip, second oldest grandson, is married to Ellen: He's doctor and so is exhausted and crabby because the war is dragging on, all medical supplies are in scarce supply, all well-trained medical staff are in short supply, so he decided to have an affair with his cousin, Claire. His wife, Ellen, knows all about it, though Philip doesn't know she knows as Ellen works very hard at pretending she doesn't care--very "modern," she tells herself. She's also busy with their baby daughter who is just learning to walk and talk and so is delightful. She may have failed as a wife, Ellen tells herself, but she won't fail as a mother.
Claire: The youngest grandchild who is also unmarried and has decided that she really likes having an affair with her cousin primarily because she believes no one knows about it and is hoping that snagging a doctor means she can quick her full-time job which is boring. In fact, everyone knows about the affair and they don't like it.
Bella: Sir Richard March's second wife who began her career as a mistress to old man March while Serafita was still alive. While they were having their affair, he repeatedly talked of how much he hated his wife and was dreaming of the day he was rid of her. Then, once she does die, he rewrote the narrative and turned Serafita into the most fantastic human to ever have lived. He married Bella before Serafita's body was cold and her primary task is making sure masses of Serafita's favorite flowers are in vases in every room. And for god's sake, don't bump the roses in the yard when they are in peak bloom as then their petals drop and you have ruined EVERYTHING! Because, of course, those were Serafita's favorite flowers. Don't even look at them!! Bella is perpetually sad and is always told she'll never get anything once the old geezer dies but she will be allowed to live and maintain the property but ONLY AS LONG AS SHE MAINTAINS ALL THE ALTERS TO SERAFITA! Unsurprisingly, everyone assumes she hates her husband and her life.
Edward: The one grandchild of Bella and who is a weakling prone to fainting. (There's always one.) Because this is the 1940s, Edward spends all his time on psychiatrists' couches being told what his mental illnesses are. He has been seeing multiple psychiatrists who each charge a small fortune since he was 10 or 11 and has been given dozens of different diagnoses. The latest one, of which he is very proud, is "fugues." One of his doctors told him that the reason he is a mess is because he is constantly losing consciousness (and the reason he didn't know that is because he is always losing consciousness) and so warns him gravely to NEVER look upward otherwise he could explode his brain once and for all. No one in the family believes there is anything wrong with Edward, other than the fact that he is a spindly good for nothing loafer, and so he becomes increasingly resentful that no one will listen to his stories of how broken his brain is. (To be fair, they have been hearing this for 15 odd years--since he was about 7--and it's getting old.) He is particularly jealous of the baby as everyone adores her and she doesn't even have a rare mental illness!!
Mr and Mrs Brough: The faithful servants. Mrs spends all her time cooking and picking up petals as they fall to the floor underneath all the vases and Mr spends all his time raking the sand walkways (not gravel, sand, because Serafita preferred it) so they don't show footprints. It's a living.
Ok, so after the family all arrive, have a massive meal, have a massive fight (lots of quips by people who call each other "darling"), the grandfather storms off to sleep in the cottage/shrine so he can spend all night staring at the giant protrait of Serafita. No one is sorry to see him go. There is much drinking and much time spent "toileting" the baby. (I think, but am not certain, that that means putting her on a potty to see what comes out as a way of weaning her out of diapers. All I know is that every hour or so, someone had to "toilet" her, like you would a puppy who isn't housebroken.) All this toileting gives people an alibi at a different time of the evening but also means they have no idea what the others were up to during that time.
The next morning Claire carries a tray of coffee and breakfast things out to Old Man March--making the only footprints in the otherwise perfectly raked sand walkways--and finds that the door is locked from the inside. She bangs and bangs but eventually gives up, puts the tray down and peeks into a window with a curtain pulled aside, and sees the old man, dead, sitting in a diningroom chair, slumped over onto a dining table, with nothing but a glass of water on the table. And a vacuum next to the table. (Sounds oddly random but it turns out to be important.) She runs back to the house to tell everyone, but before they can even figure out what she is saying, the lawyer arrives (thinking he is going to be picking up a new will), sees the hullabaloo and orders them away from the cottage, off the sand walkways, and into the main house until a dear friend of his, Inspector Cockrill, shows up and to find out what happened.
All the windows in the cottage are locked, of course, and the door key was inside, in the door lock. So the family insist that the lawyer is being ridiculous, the Old Man just had a heart attack. Yeah, as if! Of course he was murdered--POISON in that water glass! Worse, the poison is exactly the kind Philip carries in his medical bag which he keeps with him at all times. (But not when he is toileting his daughter...keep that in mind!!!)
Well, Cockrill does show up and doesn't like what he finds: a bunch of unskilled liars that are easily tripped up. And then there's Edward who is convinced he accidently looked upwards, slipped into a fugue state, and killed his grandfather. Everyone's assurances that he isn't that interesting do not comfort him. But the real puzzle is that the only foot prints in the sand leading to the cottage door are Claire's which she made when she was walking toward the cottage with the breakfast tray, and the second set, she made when she was running away from the cottage back to the houset! So who did it and how? Well, as usual for Brand, seven solutions are proposed--each pointing to a different suspect--and then each proven impossible. Only the baby is in the clear.
Did Philip come to his senses and realize that he really prefers Ellen to Claire? Will Ellen take him back? Will Peta finally decide to get serious and do something of value to society with her life? Will Edward ever get it together and realize that all his brain problems are just life problems? Will Bella get out from under the shadow of Serafita? Will the baby ever get out of diapers?
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