Well, it turned out I was optimistic about us reaching the nadir of the Arctic blast. Equally frigid today. We've reached the point where coming into the driveway is like jumping a train onto tracks, because our driveway has two ruts of solid ice separated by uncompacted snow. Still, I'm pleased with the lined jeans that are keeping me warm that I fashioned by combining two old pairs of jeans, one inside the other:
I think we've hit bottom in this particular cold snap - it was low single-digits Fahrenheit. Frederick and I gave each other the day off from walkies. Toast in front of the fire.
I like both the ingredients, but I think each is better by itself than the combination. It continues to get colder - positively unpleasant today.
Anyway, back to the haunted mansion. This is all a plot by Tam to bump off Cheung before he finds out that Tam has been boinking his wife. In truly convoluted fashion, it involves hiring a sorcerer
Cheung returns into town but finds his house trashed and apparent blood everywhere. An officious cop and his clowish goons show up and arrest him, but no prison can hold Sammo for long (good thing too, because he was to be executed the next day) and he goes on the run. Once again, he has to spend the night alongside a corpse, but this one just mimics him harmlessly
His guardian angel takes him on as a disciple. They are at an inn some time later when the cop and his men show up again. But so does the sorcerer and he controls Cheung's arm so that he beats up everybody (not sure why, because this seems to be helping Cheung out). The guardian angel guy works out what's happening, finds the sorcerer and beats him up.
Amnyway, more of the same until a final showdown between the sorcerer and Cheung's guardian, where both are standing on ludicrously elevated altars, for some reason, and each is controlling on the one hand Cheung (as a monkey) and the other Tam (somebody else) so that they have a knock-down kung fu battle. At the end of it all (when everyone but Cheung appears dead) Cheung's wife, who has been safe with Tam this whole time, comes out claiming to have been a prisoner. But Cheung is having none of it, and the film ends with him punching her into a mid-air freeze frame as he shouts "Bitch!" at her.
As usual, Sammo is charming, and his usual surprisingly mobile self. Apparently the young Yeun Biao was inside one of the corpses, but the makeup was so heavy I have no idea which. Also, they must have used really good film stock on these late 70s Hong Kong films, because as with the other early Sammo and Jackie Chan films, the films look gorgeous and the colors really pop.
Jami's favorite so far, but I'm not a huge fan of jellies (which are not the same as jams or preserves). It just slides off the toast like a slug.
I can't say "Rum" without thinking of the way Mary Poppins says "Rum punch". But anyway, this one gets two thumbs up from me - best one yet!
Esmond Sr.: Have you got the nerve to tell me you don't want to marry my son for his money?
Lorelei: It's true.
Esmond Sr.: Then what do you want to marry him for?
Lorelei: I want to marry him for YOUR money.
We haven't been able to put our cars in the garage since we had the basement done, but what with the nasty weather, Jami was motivated finally to clear enough room that for the first time in ages...
The snow turned wet and heavy, and tonight it will freeze hard, so no long car trips are advised. Goddamnit, Bonne Maman, what did I say about including flowers? Once again, a taste so subtle as to slip by unnoticed.
Bonne Maman flavors for days 7 and 8. 7 was a decadent (and probably not dairy-free) Coffee-Caramel spread that was delicious in small quantities (and would probably kill you in larger). But day 8 had the ludicrous concatenation of the post title, proving that if you combine enough flavors they will eventually all cancel each other out. That's not strictly fair - it was quite pleasant - but you needed a fair quantity to know it was there. Jami left uneaten samples of both in the kitchen and Frederick happened on them and devoured them happily, so thumbs up from him, at least.
Yesterday Jami suddenly remembered that the advent calendar she was planning to give me on Xmas day should actually have been opened December 1st. So we're a little behind. But here are the first six, which are even more bizarre flavors than last year.
It's been unseasonably cold - down in the single digits Fahrenheit in the mornings - which means that we've cracked out the duvets and hot water bottles. I doubt it will last, but we're sleeping very well as a result.
Strictly speaking this isn't one of the British Mystery Club books because they don't have a version of this book, but I bought it because of the other Berkeley books I blogged about and so am including it here. It's the first Roger Sheringham mystery and was published in 1925. It's a typical Stately Home murder mystery and, also typical for 1925, is very bloodless. The murder victim dies quickly and painlessly, there is no gore and we are only told about a body being found by characters who are too quickly overcome to provide details. As with so many stately home murder mysteries, we have assembled a truly oddball collection of people, each of whom could be the murderer. And, also typical for stately home murders, none of these people know each other well--and all those being honest admit that they didn't even like the (now dead) host. So why are they there? And why do obscenely wealthy people pepper their ridiculously oversized homes with people who do not know or like each other? And why do they hire far too few staff to serve a proper meal?
Victor Stanworth, host turned corpse within very few pages of the book, seemed to be an ebulliant person that everyone loved and admired--until he died and his REAL personality is uncovered and then we find that everyone hates him with a passion: he's a ruthless blackmailer who likes to assemble his victims so he can, one at a time, call them to his study, open his safe, show them "the goods" he has on them, and then tell them his price. Sometimes, just to be extra sinister, he adds certain juicy tasks to his demands, as when he requires good looking women to hook up with certain "friends" of his and "do what it takes" to raise the necessary funds. Unsurprisingly, once this fact emerges, we find that everyone in the house has a strong motive to kill him. But how? He was killed in the middle of the night when all professed to be asleep (all except Roger who was working on his latest novel as he does all his best creative thinking in the wee hours--in fact, now that I think of it, I don't think he slept for the entire novel, which took place across at least five days). Also, of course, the study door was locked on the inside with the key in the lock, all the windows were bolted shut, there were no secret hiding places, no priest's holes and no secret chambers behind any book cases. AND there was a perfunctory suicide note. But the note was typed and the signature scribbled so no one really believes it is genuine--except the police detective in charge of the case who couldn't declare the location a non-crime scene fast enough.
So who are our suspects?
(1) Major Jefferson: Jefferson is Stanworth's personal assistant/secretary. He's former military and so efficient, but the work is beneath him and it's clear he hates it. He's secretive but is not clear if that is a result of an overdeveloped sense duty or because he has real secrets that need to stay hidden.
(2) Lady Stanworth: Victor's sister-in-law, she was married to Victor's now deceased brother. Since Victor inherited the family home, she moved into the household after her husband's death. She isn't remotely bothered by her brother-in-law's death and spends her time up in her room "lying down" or sighing peevishly when asked questions about anything. She clearly did not like her brother-in-law, but did she hate him enough to kill him?
(3) Mrs. Plant: She's the ubiquitous cryer and fainter, always bursting into tears, unable to go on or answer any questions, always nervously twisting up her hanky and insisting that, really, she has nothing more to say so why doesn't everyone just leave her alone? But her perfume is noteworthy (jasmine) and one arm of the couch in the study where Victor was killed smells strongly of her scent.
(4) The Butler: He is a massive, brutish ex-boxer who clearly knows nothing about being a butler. He also never talks and really doesn't seem to do all that much except hover in the background, looking menacingly at everyone. Is he protection for his blackmailing boss or is he, too, a victim of Victor's threats?
(5) Barbara: A pretty young woman who features in chapter 1 only to disappear entirely a few pages later. She strides up to Alec, Roger's pal (more about him below), only to announce that she is calling off their engagement. She does this on a bright beautiful morning just before breakfast is going to be served as Mr. Stanworth lay dead in his study but before his body has been discovered. Alec is unsurprisingly stunned and very disappointed and asks for a reason. Barbara won't say, she just insists that "it has to be that way" and begs him to not asks questions. Alec, as well-bred as any 20 something Englishman in the 1920s, says he understands and mentions it never again. The last we hear of Barbara is a few pages later when Alec returns from the train station after helping her with her luggage. So what was THAT about? Does Victor have something on Barbara, too, and was it so bad that she killed him and did a runner? But if that's the case, then why isn't she happier since her blackmailer is now dead?
(6) Alec Grierson: Roger's pal from somewhere, presumably a private school they attended together some time in the past. Alec is, according to Roger, very smart and sensible--more level-headed than Roger is, as Roger has a tendency to get bees in his bonnets and race off in ten directions at once. But Alec seems increasingly obtuse: Roger sends him on simple errands yet Alec bungles every one; Roger asked him to check for footprints in the mud and he clomps all over them, effectively erasing them entirely. Soon Roger suspects that his friend is actually sabatoging Roger's investigation. But why? Was HE being blackmailed and so killed Victor? Or does Alec think Barbara was being blackmailed and so killed Victor for her?
Roger Sheringham--not a suspect: We've met Roger in Jumping Jenny and The Poisoned Chocolates. This book is obviously Roger's first rodeo: he is clumsy, foolish and always annoying the people he is trying to sweet talk into giving him important evidence. The story-telling is adequate, but not amazing. There really is no tension and the characters are too two-dimensional to really get invested in. BUT, as usual, the mystery really is mysterious and even in this early effort, there is the classic double-twist that Berkeley becomes famous for. So how does Berkeley's writing develop between this novel and his later one? First, the characters in his later novels are unforgettably weird and horrible: the murder victim in Jumping Jenny is extremely vividly protrayed to the point that reading scenes with her in it caused me to feel physically uncomfortable--she's a little bit "too real" to be bearable. It was a genuine relief when she finally died. Second, Roger shifts from a clunky investigator always underneath everyone's feet to a brooding outsider who stealthily enters rooms and observes the messy human interactions of others unobserved. He notices everything but says nothing until he presents his solution to the police at the end. Third, the social commentary in later books is many levels above what we see in this novel. Here, social criticism stops at Roger making it clear that he is far more interested in solving the murder mystery than he is in bringing the murderer to justice--indeed, as far as he is concerned, the murderer did "bring about justice" when they shot Victor smack in the middle of his noggin. While refusing to turn over the guilty party to the police is slightly off center in the 1920s, it's hardly shocking to think that someone who kills a blackmailer who arranges for pretty young ladies to prostitute themselves out to rich men is a morally better person than the murder victim. But in later novels, Roger sees everyone's foibles: every couple is one fight shy of divorce, every suspect has many deeply seedy secrets, and money truly is the root of all evil. The question is: did Berkely grow up or did he, as he wrote edgier and edgier novels, push his public to grow up?
Ideally we would be somewhere where there's a repair shop for the Dualit that was supposed to last forever, but as we aren't, and the cheapo one that was filling in for the non-functioning Dualit has already packed in, I bought what I hope is the most reliable alternative, that is also aesthetically pleasing. (I always think of the fridge that Wallace, of "and Gromit" fame, has, called "Smug".) However, Jami has reminded me that we had a Smeg kettle once and it didn't last very long, so fingers crossed.
Weren't we just swimming? I forget that every year, just when you think the leaves are never going to fall off the trees, there's a sudden really cold snap and they fall off allatonce.
