Carter Brown (1923–1985)

Sisenesin sepistatud värava kaudu Armastuse Templisse ja kui mu silmad harjusid kesköise hägusa valgusega, märkasin, et seal oli peale minu veel midagi. Lähenedes nägin, et ähmane kuju, mis toetus poodiumile, osutus erakordselt suureks kalli plüüsiga vooderdatud kirstuks. Astunud veel kaks sammu, nägin et kirstus lamas keegi. Mõistsin, et virvendav valgus ja äge muusika juhatasid sisse veel üht kuratlikku matusetalitust. Siis aga tõmbus mu kõri tugevalt kokku ja ma vaid seisin show more seal ja vaatasin, kuidas laip tõusis aeglaselt istukile.Andeka Al Wheeleri ees seisab raske ülesanne lahendada mõistatuslik mõrvalugu ja Armastuse Templi saladus. show less

«Lähme sisse,» käsutas šerif. «Ma tahan midagi näidata.»
«Laipa?» küsisin. «Koguni enne hommikusööki?»
Sisenesime. Ta tõmbas seinast ühe sahtli välja ja süütas veel paar lampi. Sahtlis lamas tüdruk, kes oli olnud noor ja ilus. Tema vahakarva ovaalset nägu raamisid pikad mustad juuksed.
Šerif kergitas ettevaatlikult lina, paljastades laiba parema käsivarre. Kõrgel, peaaegu õla all oli tätoveering, mis meenutas dollarimärki, kuid üks S-tähte läbiv vertikaaltriip oli show more laineline ja mao peaga. «Teine sellise märgiga laip sel nädalal,» selgitas šerif.
Järjekordset mõrvalugu lahendades on nii viskit kui ka võluvaid naisi armastav Al Wheeler hädas mõlemaga. show less

Well, Carter Brown does not disappoint. This one has a scumbag P.I. whose primary seduction technique is to slap women, includes a sanitarium, a psychotic sadist thug playing second fiddle and muscle for the red herring (but still dangerous) villain, the bloodied bodies start stacking rather quickly as the narrative nears the conclusion, and almost all the ladies strip down at the drop of a hat. Also, the hard-boiled flavor of the text is ever present almost to the point of parody. So yes, I show more liked it. This book is pulpy trash, exactly the kind I relish. I get in the mood for pulpy trash more often than not if you couldn’t guess.

“You want something nasty done to somebody, you got to mix with nasty people,” I told her. “I’m nasty people.” I slapped her across the face twice, forehand and backhand, as they say at Wimbledon. [pg.28]

Concerning the red-herring villain:

He looked like the answer to what happened to Adolf Hitler–he shaved off his mustache and got fat. [pg.29]

Essentially, the protagonist, the aforementioned scumbag private investigator, Danny Boyd, causes the whole thing to kick off by tricking the husband of his client into getting committed to the sanitarium. Of course, his responsibility is diminished by the realization that he’s a patsy for the actual villains and intended to make it better immediately after pulling it off. It’s just that the circumstances prevented this. Although he did leave the man tied up long after clearing his name so there’s that as well. I have to admit that I was drooling for the protagonist in this one to be the villain getting a whole pulp detective novel from the perspective of the corrupted detective villain, but ‘twas not to be.

There are times, according to some no-good lying bums, when I get a stupid look on my face. But this time it must have been stupefied. Charity Adam caught the look O.K., but she didn’t read it right. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You want me to take off the rest of my clothes, of course!” [pg.61]

If you’re looking for a pulp detective novel written circa the 1950s that’s heavy on the pulp, then this is it. And as all the Carter Brown novels I’ve read so far go, it is the heaviest on the sexism, gloriously so. It’s also a short novel and a quick read; I finished it in a couple of hours. I will definitely continue on with the pile of Carter Brown novels on my to-read table. However, despite the title, there are no witches, satanic or otherwise, in this one.

My favorite quote:

“I don’t think it’s fair,” she said tearfully. “A girl faints, and the first thing you do is something indelicate with her bosom!” [pg.75] show less

Well, I was looking for mid-century sleaze (i.e. a potboiler, maybe porn) and I found it (not the porn). This one is a straight detective tale where the schlubby detective is surrounded by sexy, young, voluptuous women (all the female characters in this novel are of this description) who mostly want to jump his bones for no real reason, well, one has a reason, but its plot-centric. It does have a healthy dose of male-fantasy/borderline misogyny throughout and any chance to objectify the show more female characters (there are no real characters here besides the wisecracking detective btw) is taken by the author, which I find funny more than offensive because it was so frequent from beginning to end. Essentially, all the women are diluted femme fatales. The promise of the involvement of an occult and/or supernatural center in the mystery made by the cover and blurbs only exists to be explained away by the end but a “satanic ceremony” is fitted into the story. Brownie points scored there, I guess.
The singer was wearing a turquoise silk-knit suit that emphasized the deep thrust of her breasts and the full curve of her hips. Her midnight-blue hair cascaded over her shoulders wildly, and her big green eyes shone with a kind of luminous passion. [pg.47]
The points this novel scores were that it was a quick and easy read, the male gaze in this book was so intense as to become comedic, the mystery is not a very good one (it is pretty obvious who the bad players are as soon as you meet them), and I found the era of its setting, at least in my head, added to the kitschiness of the story. I also enjoyed that there were some traditional detective genre fisticuffs and gunplay. The story became as sexually stimulating as possible without crossing the line into sex when the story would otherwise get boring or when the opportunity arose. All-in-all I would recommend this one if you’re in the mood for a sleazy detective story.
“Okay, Poopsie.” She sauntered out of the room and the close-up view of her undulating bikinied bottom was an erotic symphony all by itself. [pg. 122] show less