The case is all wrapped up, everything fits, but Grant has a feeling. The ending is a complete twist.

Tey was a fantastic writer, and her mystery novels are peppered with beautiful set-pieces, elegant descriptions and minor characters sketched with scythe-like precision. Her concept of the investigator who often makes mistakes and has to recalibrate is also fantastic, and the novel inadvertently has become a piece of historical writing: it's thoroughly enjoyable to keep reminding oneself that Grant can't just use a mobile phone, or look up a suspect's address in "the system". Very engaging.

I will say the ending is rather abrupt, in contradistinction to the sometimes languid, well-paced rest of the novel. And, to be frank, Tey doesn't do a good job of hiding a major clue which - annoyingly - Grant doesn't seem to pick up! The clue doesn't reveal the killer, but it certainly points an arrow in a general direction. I hope that Tey meant for us to pick up on things that Grant doesn't, but I'm not so sure in this particular interest.

But anyhow, she's great, and all of her books are worth reading on their own merits. ( )

Why don't I read more classics in genres, I said. Tey, I recognize that name, why haven't I read these, I said. Oh, well, I did read this and it was full of ethnic slurs and sympathy for male stalkers and murderers. No wonder I'd put it out of my head. ( )

Đang dịch mua quyển kia không được (chưa có hàng -> có hàng -> không giao đến địa chỉ của bạn -> trả hàng cho nhà bán -> hết hàng) nên đọc trước quyển đầu trong series. Đọc xong càng buồn hơn vì quyển này không hay còn quyển kia (nổi nhất, được đánh giá cao nhất, và đã dịch ra tiếng Việt :v) chưa mua được. Nào mua được mà đọc không thấy hợp gu chắc buồn thê thảm. ( )

Josephine Tey, aka Gordon Daviot, was the pen name of Elizabeth MacKintosh (1897-1952). This was her first book, "The Man in the Queue," published the year my father was born, 1929. She writes a superb mystery (this is my second mystery by her), as I swear, you would never have seen that ending coming!
This one has to do with a man standing in a queue, a line, as the Americans say, waiting to get in to see a play on its closing night. He has been stabbed in the back, but so closely-packed are the theatre-goers, that until the door is opened and people start to shuffle forward, whence he falls forward and slips to the ground, no one knows he's dead.

Words used in this book that I had to look up:
Embonpoint: the plump or fleshy part of a person's body, in particular a woman's bosom.

Strewwelpeter hair: A person with long, thick, disheveled hair. ETYMOLOGY: From Struwwelpeter, the title character of the 1845 children's book Der Struwwelpeter (Shockheaded Peter) by Heinrich Hoffman.

Verger:
1.
an official in a church who acts as a caretaker and attendant.
2.
an officer who carries a rod before a bishop or dean as a symbol of office.

Charabanc: an early form of bus, used typically for pleasure trips.

Haivering: In Scottish English, haver (from the Scots havers (oats)) means "to maunder; to talk foolishly; to chatter," as heard in the song "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" by The Proclaimers.

Congé: an unceremonious dismissal or rejection of someone.

Jape: a practical joke.

Inspector Grant is familiar with the actor playing the lead role in the play's last night at the theatre. He knows the murderer will have a small scar on their finger, from a broken part on the knife's handle. Moreover, the murderer is left-handed. So, he contrives to have tea with her before she sets out to America. Just checking all angles:
P.40:
"to break a silence and because it was the first thing that came into his head, he said, 'you're left-handed.'
'Yes,' she said indifferently, as the subject deserved, and went on to ask him about his investigations. he told her as much as would appear in the Morrow's press and described the knife, as being the most interesting feature of the case.
'the handle is a little silver Saint with blue-and-red enamel decoration.'
something leaped suddenly in ray marcable's calm eyes."

MacKintosh uses some of the most lyrical, and visual-producing prose that I've read. In this excerpt, Inspector Alan Grant is traveling a three-legged journey to where he has tracked down his suspected "Levantine." This only means with "mediterranean looks." Mrs Everett, the landlady of the dead man, and his clerk Lamont, has sent Lamont, also her tenant, to "hide out" in the Highlands--Scotland--with her brother and his family, the Logans. On the train from London, Grant gets a sleeper, and wakes up to breathtaking scenery:

P.222-3:
"and morning brought him nothing but exhilaration. As he opened his eyes on the daylight, through the open chink at the top of his window he could see the brown Moors sliding slowly past, and the chug-chug of the Hitherto racing train told of it's conquest of the grampians. a clear, cold air that sparkled, greeted him as he dressed, and over breakfast he watched the brown barrenness with its background of vivid sky and dazzling snow change to pine Forest -- flat black slabs stuck mathematically on the hillside like patches of woolwork -- and then to birches; birches that stepped down the mountain-sides as escort for some stream, or birches that trailed their light draperies of an unbelievable new green in little woods carpeted with fine turf. And so with a rush, as the train took heart on the downgrade, to Fields again -- wide fields in broad's straths and little Stony fields tacked to Hillsides -- and lochs, and rivers, and a green countryside. he wondered, standing in the corridor as the train rattled and swerved and swung in its triumphant downrush to inverness, what the fugitive had thought of it all - the Londoner torn from his streets, and the security of buildings and bolt-holes."

And on the last leg of the trip, when he is crammed into the mail "charabanc" for a 3-hr trip of ~38 miles to the coast:
P.227-8:
"Several miles before garnie, Grant smelt the sea -- that seaweedy smell of the Sea on an indented coast. It was strange to smell it so unpreparedly in such unsea-like surroundings. it was still more strange to come on it suddenly as a small green pool among the hills. Only the brown surge of the weed along the rocks proclaimed the fact that it was ocean and not moor loch. but as they swept into garnie with all the éclat of the most important thing in 24 hours, the long line of garnie sands lay bare in the evening light, a violet sea creaming gently on their silver Placidity. The car decanted him at the flagged doorway of his hostelry but, hungry as he was, he lingered in the door to watch the light die beyond the flat purple outline of the islands to the west. The stillness was full of the clear, far away sounds of evening. The air smelled of peat smoke and the sea. the first lights of the village shone daffodil-clear here and there. the Sea grew lavender, and the Sands became a pale Shimmer in the dusk.

Mr Lamont: suspected murderer
Mr Logan, brother of Mrs Everett
Miss Dinmont, niece of Mrs Everett

When the suspect is finally brought to ground, caught because he slipped while diving from a boat, Miss Dinmont, the niece on holiday from her London nursing job, staying at her uncle's, where the suspect is also staying, watches over him at the hostelry.
P.278-9:
" 'but my aunt -- is she -- how did she come to send him here?'
'I expect Mrs Everett was sorry for him. She'd known him for some time.'
'I only met my aunt once in the time I've been in London -- we didn't like each other -- but she didn't strike me as a person to be sorry for a wrongdoer. I'd be much more likely to believe she did the thing herself. then he isn't even a journalist?'
'no,' Grant said; 'he's a bookmaker's clerk.'
'well, thank you for telling me the truth at last,' she said. 'I must get things ready for Dr Anderson now.'
'are you still going to look after him?' Grant asked involuntarily. was the outburst of disbelief coming now? [You see, she had gotten a crush on Lamont, not knowing his real identity.]
'certainly,' said this remarkable girl 'the fact that he is a murderer doesn't alter the fact that he has concussion, does it? -- nor the fact that he abused our hospitality alter the fact that I'm a professional nurse? and even if it weren't for that, perhaps you know that in the old days in the highlands a guest received hospitality and sanctuary even if he had his host's Brother's blood on his sword. it isn't often I boost the highlands,' she added, 'but this is rather a special occasion.' She gave a little catch of her breath that might have been a laugh or a sob, and was probably half one, half the other, and went back into the room to look after the man who had so unscrupulously used herself and her home."

I will certainly be reading Inspector Alan Grant No. 2. MacKintosh has a Charming skill that rather wraps you around her finger and leaves you wanting more. Though written very long ago, while reading her work,it doesn't feel dated at all. ( )