One By One They Disappeared

A chance encounter brings to the attention of Inspector Collier the story of the American financier Elbert J. Pakenham, a survivor of the sinking of the Coptic during WWI. Cared for during three days drifting in a life-boat by his fellow-survivors, all much younger than he, Pakenham has since shown his gratitude by hosting an elaborate dinner for them once a year in London, and distributing generous gifts. Days after the most recent dinner, Collier reads in the paper of the death of one of the party, a blind man named Henry Raymond, who fell down an elevator shaft in an unoccupied building in what is being treated as a tragic accident. Although due for a well-earned vacation, Collier's professional instincts are roused, and with his show more Chief's permission, he takes instead a "busman's holiday". Collier's inquiries reveal that the dinner-party was a disaster, with only two of the eight expected guests turning up - Raymond, and another young Englishman called Gerald Freyne, who Collier knows has a criminal record. He also learns that within the last year, the wealthy but solitary Pakenham announced his intention of ultimately dividing his estate amongst the other survivors. Inquiring into Raymond's death, Collier discovers that his sister protested against the accidental ruling - and has since disappeared; while further investigation determines that two more of Pakenham's potential heirs have recently died - one in a hit-and-run, one of blood poisoning. Accidents - or not...?

This first book in Moray Dalton's series featuring Inspector George Collier of the C.I.D. is an unusual and gripping mystery, while Collier himself is a refreshingly flawed hero, dedicated and intelligent, but anything but infallible. Indeed, during his investigation of this strange and bewildering case Collier is frequently astray in his conclusions, and requires both a large slice of luck and the shrewd assistance of the elderly but spirited Elbert Pakenham before he can untangle the mass of hidden connections behind what he believes, but struggles to prove, are a series of murders. Of course, if the three deaths are murder, the obvious suspects are the Coptic survivors yet living: Davies, manager of a firm supplying musical instruments for which Henry Raymond worked as a piano-tuner; Vane, an actor; Malory, a talented artist ruined by his cocaine addiction; Olivieri, a well-born but dissolute Italian; and Freyne, who as a young man served a prison term for forgery.

After interviewing Davies in London in the wake of Raymond's death, Collier next tracks down Freyne at the ancestral mansion he cannot afford to maintain, where he lives with his only family, his sister-in-law and young nephew. Collier is also introduced to Wilfred Stark, a neighbour, whose young cousin and ward, Corinna Lacy, is staying with him. It is immediately evident the Freyne and Corinna are attracted to one another, and equally so that Stark, who knows about Freyne's past, is dismayed by the situation, which grows further complicated when Collier also finds himself drawn to the girl. It is with the assistance of Freyne and Stark that Collier learns of the deaths of the two other men, Pike and Minchin. Meanwhile, Elbert Pakenham is summoned to Italy, where he finds the Count Olivieri gravely ill, and Malory in attendance on him. But all is not as it seems: the alert Pakenham narrowly escapes an attempt on his life when Olivieri makes him a gift of an antique ring carrying a hidden, poisoned spike. Returning to England, Pakenham reports this to Collier; the two decide to circulate a false report of Pakenham's illness. Another ruse brings home Malory, who finally admits that he and Olivieri are in collusion with a third party to whom they spoke only at a costume party, and whose identity they do not know...

One By One They Disappeared is a surprising book, one that entertains while slowly becoming ever more grim and disturbing, as Elbert Pakenham's intended act of generosity and gratitude becomes the driving force behind a labyrinthine plot of murder, attempted murder, abduction and concealed identity. In that inimitable British Golden Age mystery way, this novel manages on the whole to maintain a light tone while dealing with a series of horrifying events; although in spite of its spiralling body count, the book's most shocking scene is certainly that in which Collier and his superior, Sir James Trask, compel Malory to answer their questions by withholding his supply of cocaine - and then give it back to him when he has. Also very British is the degree to which pets feature in this novel - until it eventually becomes evident that you can fairly reliably tell the good guys from the bad guys by their respective attitudes to animals. Elbert Pakenham, for example, is usually accompanied by a black cat called Jehoshaphat, which he rescued from the Coptic; while Collier keeps canaries, and adopts a dog "orphaned" by one of the murders. But alas, given the fate of some of its four-footed characters, this is not an easy book for the animal lover...

Is it wrong, I wonder, to get more upset over the fate of fictional animals than over that of fictional people...? show less