A mere nine books into the 37-strong output of Freeman Wills Crofts (soon to be 38 thanks to the excellent work of Tony Medawar and Crippen & Landru), I’m going to make a bold assertion: Crofts, I suggest, went out of his way to never write the same type of book twice. Oh, I know, you’ve heard they’re all just a boring man in a boring office poring over boring train timetables and talking boringly about boring tides on the way to solving a boring murder (to be honest, the only truly boring thing about Crofts is being told how boring he’s supposed to be)…but first read nine books by the man before telling me I’m wrong.
The Groote Park Murder (1923) employs the same essential structure of The Cask (1920) and The Pit-Prop Syndicate (1922) in splitting the action between two distinct locales — here, the South African city of Middledorp and the Scottish Highlands — and echoes the latter (and maybe the former, I’m yet to read it) in the second section being told from a different perspective to the first. But structurally we have some very different things going on: both parts this time around follow professional policeman in their investigations of a crime, and the first half would appear to finish with a conclusion of its own, there’s a court case and everything, before the second half pick up two years later with a few carried over characters but no hint of the events being related (though, of course, they are — else why would they be halves of the same book?).
For me it’s the first half, from the perspective of Inspector Vandam (first name presumably not Jeanclaude), which is the least successful. While the investigation into a body that’s been hit by a train is not without moments of brilliance — the swept floor and burnt newspapers coming into focus, say, or the surprising ease with which Crofts is able to overturn what was fast looking like a promising line in the investigation — it’s a curiously airless section that serves only to cumulate evidence and events for its superb tenth and final chapter. It seems doubtful Crofts had been anywhere near South Africa at the time of writing, and it’s telling the number of Cockneys and Scotch persons Vandam meets in the execution of his duties. The few settings that feel genuine — a cinema, a boarding house, the courtroom — could be anywhere, and South Africa itself is rendered almost through prose brought into English by the utilitarian algorithms of Google Translate®.
Not that it’s completely without merit: Vandam comes in for something of a kicking by the end, but his character is caught in spare observations like “the interest of a new mystery stimulated him to an enthusiasm which rendered him careless of rest or even food” even while at times he’s flying by the seat of his pants. Called in front of his superior to give an update on a situation which has not played out as predicted and fervently “hoping it would not occur to the Chief to ask awkward questions thereon” reveals a human side to the man, even if our sympathies are up-ended when he’s imbued with the British class consciousness at a later stage. And, good heavens, doesn’t he ever like to eat. For all his enthusiasm regarding the investigation of crime, he never met a case that would actually interrupt his victual rituals — knocking-off time is dinner time, and the hell with murder until the morning.
Some interesting twists on contemporary expectations round out this half of the book, such as a lawyer engaged to work for the accused in that courtroom who has no sympathy for, and apparently little belief in, his client and is only there for personal reasons. And the casual mention of I.D.B. laws being “more strictly enforced” in reference to diamond sales sent me down an internet research hole of quite staggering depth that will doubtless form the backbone of a post on here at some future point. Also, if you’re bothered, Crofts thoroughly spoils the working’s of Edgar Allan Poe’s ‘The Purloined Letter’ (1844), but it’s such an overhyped story with such a disappointing resolution that, really, he’s doing you a favour.
In Scotland, things bloom to glorious life, with Crofts already demonstrating that breathless love of the outdoors which would become evident in Sir John Magill’s Last Journey (1930):
The stretch of road of Luss to Crianlarich is surely the most beautiful in the British Isles. On a clear day it unfolds a gorgeous pageant of mountain and valley, of wood and water, of spray-clad waterfall, of lonely moor. At night the light of even a thin crescent of moon is sufficient to reveal something of its startling grandeur…
Two years on, and a liaison between two of the players in that previous drama leads us to a murderous plot of fairly decent complexity. Crofts has the wherewithal to wrangle some excellent imbrications here, and if he doesn’t always make it work — more than a few spontaneous confessions are required to join together the seams of his ploy — there are at least flashes of the organ-grinder working full-tilt towards the doyen of the complex he would become. At one point, the top of page 200 in this HarperCollins Detective Club reissue, Inspector Ross reflects on one aspect of events as being a “stroke of genius”, and I was tempted to agree with him…until it transpired about 40 pages later that the plan he is thus-bestowing is in fact simply half of an even bigger plan which is far more deserving of the term (seriously, when you realise than both men are on the same road…perfection). The entire imbroglio is rather easy to see through in terms of its eventual resolution — indeed, it seemed to me that this was the exact reason for the stilted South African setting opening the book (though, in the manner I expected, I turned out to be wrong) — but Crofts is growing as an author, and devising new levels of gearing in his machine.
And again we get some superb writing — yup, I stand by that — such as Marion Hope subtly urging a conversation in a direction of her choosing by “pursuing the methods formerly adopted by Red Indians who, simulating the innocuous sheep, moved in a decreasing spiral around their victim until near enough to leap on him and cleave his skull with a tomahawk”. And great contemporary language, such as the pages of a well-thumbed book being referred to as “somewhat dog’s-eared”, and the phrase “on the q.t.” significantly before I would have assumed it to be in usage. And rearing its head also is that Croftian touchstone of intricately-planned criminal enterprises undone by the tiniest of oversights: here the criminal neglecting to “soap his socks” being pretty much the exact moment Ross is put onto the correct line of thinking. Additionally, anyone sharing my interest in the development of engineering as learned through GAD novels will be interested to learn that a car maintaining an average speed of 40 miles per hour for 11 hours would be “an utter impossibility over so long a stretch”.
For the curious Croftian not sure if they’re able to take him at his most brilliantly substantive, this may well be the perfect place to start: the alibi trick is simple, the plot overall shows pieces clicking into Crofts’ brain as the possibilities of such an undertaking occur to him (that Magill Mystery seven years hence no doubt has its roots here, mark my words), but the casual reader can play along at home and treat it all as lightly as they wish. Good fun, and another beautiful edition from HarperCollins, with the Crofts essay ‘The Writing of a Detective Novel’ (1937) an inconsequential but very enjoyable inclusion. More, more!
Nick @ The Grandest Game in the World: Excellent early Crofts. The first part is set in South Africa, but isn’t Boer-ing; and the second two years later in Scotland. Detection throughout is excellent—lots of detail, particularly of suspects’ movements. … Crofts’s detective technique: instead of spreading suspicion among half a dozen people, the police follow leads and investigate each suspect in turn.
Richard Wells @ GADetection wiki: Those who dislike train times may be assured that in The Groote Park Murder the occasional references to them are only incidental, not an essential part of the plot. And there are none of the author’s other specialities. The false alibi tricks in this book are quite simple. … Unfortunately there is little local colour in the South African part of the story; probably Crofts had never been there. But he knew his Scottish Highlands, and obviously enjoyed describing an exciting race to Crianlarich and a later expedition to Glencoe and Ballachulish.
Freeman Wills Crofts on The Invisible Event:
The Cask (1920)
The Ponson Case (1921)
The Pit-Prop Syndicate (1922)
The Groote Park Murder (1923)
Featuring Inspector Joseph French
Inspector French’s Greatest Case (1924)
Inspector French and the Cheyne Mystery (1926)
Inspector French and the Starvel Hollow Tragedy (1927)
The Sea Mystery (1928)
The Box Office Murders, a.k.a. The Purple Sickle Murders (1929)
Sir John Magill’s Last Journey (1930)
Mystery in the Channel, a.k.a. Mystery in the English Channel (1931)
Sudden Death (1932)
Death on the Way, a.k.a. Double Death (1932)
The Hog’s Back Mystery, a.k.a. The Strange Case of Dr. Earle (1933)
The 12.30 from Croydon, a.k.a. Wilful and Premeditated (1934)
The Mystery on Southampton Water, a.k.a. Crime on the Solent (1934)
Crime at Guildford, a.k.a. The Crime at Nornes (1935)
The Loss of the ‘Jane Vosper’ (1936)
Man Overboard!, a.k.a. Cold-Blooded Murder (1936)
Found Floating (1937)
The End of Andrew Harrison, a.k.a. The Futile Alibi (1938)
Antidote to Venom (1938)
Young Robin Brand, Detective (1947)
The 9.50 Up Express and Other Stories [ss] (2020) ed. Tony Medawar
12 thoughts on “#493: The Groote Park Murder (1923) by Freeman Wills Crofts”
I haven’t read this one yet but I completely agree about Crofts’ attempts to avoid repeating himself. It is one of the things I have come to appreciate most about his work.
This does mean, of course, that not everything he tries will be wholly successful — his France feels a much more real place than his Middledorp, largely because one of them exists and he was able to visit it — but the general shape of the plot strands here are good and well carried-through.
I’m fascinated to see if there’s any discernible shift in focus or structure with Inspector French’s Greatest Case (always a risky gambit for the first title of a series — sort of implies you’re never going to better it) that justified in Crofts’ mind the decision to settle down on this policeman rather than continuing to hop from one to another in each book (maybe he just got tired of having to name them…). In fact, do we even know that he planned French to last for more than one book? Hmm, now I’m even more intrigued…
Firstly, I agree that the second section of the book is stronger overall and I think part of that is down to my getting a bit weary of Vandam, but it’s not a big issue really.
Overall, I liked the book quite a bit and it’s the one that got me back into Crofts after a false start with The Cask so many years before. As such I think I’d rate it slightly higher – even though I don’t really go in for star ratings in general – and give it perhaps 4 out of 5.
Oh, as we know, there are rating and there are ratings — some 3-star books are better than others, but unless I start going in the direction of offering a 20-point scale (1, 1.25, 1.5, 1.75…) then this’ll do to give people an overall impression. Don’t love the rating system myself, but it’s an easily-grasped shorthand and hopefully the 1,300 words following it help to clarify things 🙂
I feel a little sorry for Vandam, as he’s one of the few “subject” policemen — that is, the one actually working the investigation, not the buffoon for the Genius Amateur to outshine –who’s set up to (in a manner of speaking) fail. And I feel Ross and Crofts are a little harsh on him come the end. I mean, but for a nervous witness Ross would hardly have fared much better.
I don’t know what to do about The Cask. I know who the killer is thanks to The Sea Mystery and so feel like leaving it for a bit (not, in fairness, that I’ll forget…damn my selective memory loss), but I’m tempted to read it early so I can compare Pre- and Post-French Crofts for analysis purposes. Aaaah, decisions, decisions…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lots of people use star ratings, or variations, and that’s fine by me. They do give a snapshot of one’s feelings but I find I’ve rarely been able to use them successfully myself – too many variables and so on – and just avoid them as a result. But that’s just me.
I guess Vandam does get a bit of a raw deal but the fact is, as a reader, I was kind of disappointed in him by the end of his section of the narrative.
The Cask? I dunno, I may have misjudged it and simply read it at a time when I was expecting something different, or wasn’t in the right frame of mind. Then again others agree it goes on too long. I’d probably need to read it again but just can’t see that happening.
Hmm, maybe I should tackle The Cask next in an attempt to convince you of its virtues…
I’m always open to reassessments, so your’e welcome to give it a go. 🙂
I suggest giving The Cask a go — the whodunnit isn’t the main point of interest, so you haven’t been much spoiled. Most readers will be pretty sure of the killer’s identity before the half-way point. The interest is mainly in the meticulous unravelling of the killer’s complex scheme to conceal motive, means, and opportunity. Not that the book doesn’t have faults — the length, and the ending — but you can see Crofts developing techniques that he’ll deploy with greater skill in later works.
The more I dwell on it, the more inclined I am to get an overview of Crofts’ pre-French works rather than leaving the first til last as I had previously thought I might.
Thanks for the push, I’ll doubtless change my mind several times and then read The Cask next anyway…whatever happens, we’ll find out in April/May time. My apologies for the unresolved excitement everyone will be suffering under until then.
I got a good laugh out of the look of astonishment on the face of one of the characters on the cover of the book. I assume that’s some key scene.
Anyway, I’m glad you’re continuing to enjoy Crofts. I need to find some time to return to him soon. The Sea Mystery wasn’t fantastic in the way that I would normally describe a book, but there was something so damn good about it. I read it nearly a year ago and I swear I still remember the entire thing, which is crazy considering how it transitions so much.
I nearly mentioned the cover in the review, but figure it not really pertinent — it gets points for obviously being commissioned to represent a moment in the plot, but given everything that happens in the book, that is not the moment I’d choose even given fifteen chances. Though you’d have to read the book to understand why.
I am also delighted that I continue to enjoy Crofts…not least because I’ve gone and bought everything by him that I can find (still missing four books if anyone’s got any going…) and so that’s proving to be a sensible investment rather than another hasty over-commitment 😆. You sum him up pretty well: he doesn’t quite write the sorts of books one would expect, but in fairness to the man he was in at the blood of the Golden Age with his debut and so spent at least the first tranche of his career figuring out what this detection stuff was. It’s tempting to look at everything in GAD as adhering to an overarching set of rules and expectations, but at this stage there probably wasn’t quite that awareness of a collegiate, cumulative underatking. Once Crofts, Christie, and a handful of others figured it out, that’s when everyone started jumping on board.
What’s especially interesting is how his essay about writing detective novels that forms the introduction here very much does not describe this book — the intervening 14 years evidently had an impact on the kind of thing he thought these books should do, because none of Ponson, Pit-Prop, and Groote — and arguably not even The Sea Mystery, and only only vaguely Magill and Venom — really fit the model of detective story he presents as an archetype.
But that, well, that’s an essay for another time.
Pingback: The Groote Park Murder by Freeman Wills Crofts (1923) – Mrs. K. Investigates