REVIEW: Murder After Christmas by Rupert Latimer
“A war’s on and a murder has been committed—and we sit here talking nonsense about almond whirls and mince pies!”
Good old Uncle Willie—known for an insatiable sweet tooth and being an epic pain in the rear—has come to stay with the Redpaths for the holidays. As luck would have it, he’s found dead in the snow, in a Santa suit on Boxing Day. It seems as though someone may have poisoned his chocolate…or was it the mince pie? As the police flock to the house, Willie’s descendants, past lovers and distant relatives are drawn into a perplexing investigation to find out how the old man met his fate, and who stands to gain by such an unseasonable crime.
First published in 1944, Murder After Christmas is a lively riot of murder, holiday desserts, and misdirection, cleverly twisting the tropes of Golden Age detective fiction to create a pacey, light-hearted package admirably suited for the holiday season.
Review
If this had ever been made into a film, Ernst Lubitsch would’ve directed it, as this is as much a drawing room, comedy of manners as it is a murder mystery. Let that sink in before making the decision to read this. The tone is quite light for a murder mystery and remains light even after the body is found. I’ve seen a lot of reviews at GR (the rating there is not good) that seem to indicate this is not what those readers were looking for so … there it is. It’s also one of the most convoluted murder mysteries I’ve ever read. I enjoyed it but also … be ready for that.
Mysterious and sly chucklings from Uncle Willie which continued for several days…
It was now evident that Uncle Willie had decided to enjoy his Christmas, even if no one else did.
In reading about the author in the introduction, I see that Rupert Latimer (pen name) was born to an aristocratic family near the turn of the twentieth century but suffered from health issues and only wrote a few books before his early death. There is a disclosure at the beginning that “There are many elements of these stories that continue to entertain modern readers; however, in some cases there are also uses of language, instances of stereotyping, and some attitudes expressed by narrators or characters, which may not be endorsed by the publishing standards of today.” However little jumped out at me as inappropriate besides a child labeled as a “horror” who makes an ass of himself at the Christmas Tree.
“Who the dickens gets the money now?”
“That,” agreed Culley, “is the question, isn’t it, sir?”
Rhoda Redpath believes in casting “bread on the waters” because you never know how a kindness offered now will come in handy later. So when she hears that dear old Uncle Willie has been turfed out of his long-term hotel accommodations due to the war, she extends an invitation for him to stay with her and her husband at their country estate. He arrives and installs himself in what is called the Bridal Suite. Soon he’s writing and receiving letters as well as packages, including one from his, she thinks, fourth wife. The family relationships here are complicated.
“ …it’s always struck me, Culley, that if ever a man was born to be murdered, that man was Sir Willoughby Keene-Cotton.”
Uncle Willie is staggeringly wealthy though, at times, a pain in the ass. Many, MANY, family members have jokingly contemplated murdering him for his money but, honestly, joking is as far as anyone has ever gotten. Only when Uncle Willie’s body is found, dressed as Father Christmas, after the Redpath ‘Christmas Tree’ which appears to be, or have been, a party on Boxing Day wherein Father Christmas appears and gives gifts to the children, the Redpaths and their guests wonder who might have finally done him in.
“Yes,” said Rhoda, edging a little nearer in her eagerness. “Because we didn’t want to murder him any more…”
“Not any more, madam?”
“Oh, no!” Rhoda sternly disclaimed; then, climbing down a little in the interests of absolute truth: “Well, we haven’t for the last seven years…”
“Since his marriage, you see,” explained Frank, “we haven’t had any motive—”
“No motive at all, Mr. Culley: all his money goes to his wife. Of course,” she admitted, “as my husband said, he has been rather a difficult guest—”
“Thundering nuisance…”
“Naturally we’ve felt like murdering him frequently…”
(“Well, I’m damned,” murmured John.)
After an inquest returns the verdict of Accidental Death, the Redpath family invites Superintendent Culley to stay at the estate and investigate further as, clearly, there are still questions around Uncle Willie’s death and they’d prefer to not have this cloud hanging over their heads for years to come. From a third of the way into the story until the end, Culley will follow clues, question friends, family, and acquaintances before finally The Truth emerges. It’ll be stranger than you could ever imagine.
“No, no, no!” Frank swept the car happily round the station yard. “Only you mustn’t mind if he keeps insisting you’re someone you’ve never heard of. He’s rather anxious about his memory. Not that he can’t remember, but he keeps forgetting.”
There are undercurrents and some lies which, in other circumstances, wouldn’t be that much of a bother but after the murder takes place, these might appear to the police to be a little … sinister. At times Culley thinks that the Redpaths and the other family members are a bit too helpful, if that’s possible. Then he starts finding the food, looking at mail wrappers, and talking to the staff and the young woman who was helping Uncle Willie write his memoirs. And, oh, was there a new will or a codicil? Remember Uncle Willie is loaded and due to the terms of his known will, when he died relative to someone else will make a Big Difference in who gets the loot.
Major Smythe, having just found his tortoise-shell spectacles, immediately dropped them on the floor. “Oh, no, Culley, please,” he entreated.
“It’s quite simple, really, sir.”
“Is it?”
After a while, I sort of gave up trying to play along at home. Even Culley’s superior, Chief Constable Major Smythe, gets mentally tied up in knots trying to follow Culley’s train of investigation. The solicitor Mr. Merivale is reduced to mental stuttering and goggling. Finally I threw my hands up and wondered if the kitchen cat was the guilty culprit as so many people seemed as likely to have done the deed as not to have.
“Yes,” Rhoda agreed, “we did rather wonder about that. So if you can explain that too, Mr. Culley, everything will be perfect.” She resumed her knitting hopefully.
The truth takes a while for Culley to unravel and then ultimately convey to a roomful of intensely interested family members. It loops around a bit and then swoops a bit more before everything gets explained. I was mentally boggling as I followed it all and at times had to be reminded that yes, a murder had actually taken place. If you like humorous, twisty murder mysteries, this might be for you but it’s not for everyone. B
~Jayne
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I think I will enjoy this. Thank you for the review.
@LML: You’re welcome. I’m glad I read it before checking out the GR entry as a lot of people weren’t thrilled with it. It’s certainly unusual.