by Otto Penzler
ALSO EDITED BY OTTO PENZLER
The Big Book of Christmas Mysteries
The Big Book of Ghost Stories
Zombies! Zombies! Zombies!
The Big Book of Adventure Stories
The Vampire Archives
Agents of Treachery
Bloodsuckers
Fangs
Coffins
The Black Lizard Big Book of Black Mask Stories
The Black Lizard Big Book of Pulps
A VINTAGE CRIME/BLACK LIZARD ORIGINAL, OCTOBER 2014
Introductions and compilation copyright © 2014 by Otto Penzler
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Vintage Books, a division of Random House LLC, New York, and in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto, Penguin Random House companies.
Vintage is a registered trademark and Vintage Crime/Black Lizard and colophon are trademarks of Random House LLC.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by arrangement with Atlantic Books Ltd. Owing to limitations of space, permissions to reprint previously published material appear at the end of this volume.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
The Black Lizard Big Book of Locked-Room Mysteries : the Most Complete Collection of Impossible Crime Stories Ever Assembled / edited and with an introduction by Otto Penzler.
pages cm
1. Detective and mystery stories, American. 2. Detective and mystery stories, English. I. Penzler, Otto, editor of compilation.
PS648.D4B54 2014 813.087208—dc23 2014005685
Vintage/Black Lizard Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-0-307-74396-1
eBook ISBN: 978-0-8041-7279-0
Book design by Christopher Zucker
Cover image by Lyman Anderson, courtesy of Heritage Auctions: www.HA.com
Cover design: Joe Montgomery
www.weeklylizard.com
v3.1
For Anthony Cheetham
Gentleman, scholar, loyal friend
Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Introduction by Otto Penzler
(The most popular and frequently reprinted impossible-crime stories of all time.)
THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE Edgar Allan Poe
THE PROBLEM OF CELL 13 Jacques Futrelle
A TERRIBLY STRANGE BED Wilkie Collins
THE TWO BOTTLES OF RELISH Lord Dunsany
THE INVISIBLE MAN G. K. Chesterton
THE DOOMDORF MYSTERY Melville Davisson Post
THE ADVENTURE OF THE SPECKLED BAND Arthur Conan Doyle
(Stabbing in a completely sealed environment appears to be the most common murder method.)
THE WRONG PROBLEM John Dickson Carr
THE THING INVISIBLE William Hope Hodgson
DEPARTMENT OF IMPOSSIBLE CRIMES James Yaffe
THE ALUMINIUM DAGGER R. Austin Freeman
THE CREWEL NEEDLE Gerald Kersh
THE DOCTOR’S CASE Stephen King
A KNIFE BETWEEN BROTHERS Manly Wade Wellman
THE GLASS GRAVESTONE Joseph Commings
THE TEA LEAF Edgar Jepson & Robert Eustace
THE FLUNG-BACK LID Peter Godfrey
THE CROOKED PICTURE John Lutz
BLIND MAN’S HOOD Carter Dickson
(Is there a more baffling scenario than to find a body in smooth sand or snow with no footprints leading to or from the victim?)
THE MAN FROM NOWHERE Edward D. Hoch
THE LAUGHING BUTCHER Fredric Brown
THE SANDS OF THYME Michael Innes
THE FLYING DEATH Samuel Hopkins Adams
THE FLYING CORPSE A. E. Martin
THE FLYING HAT Vincent Cornier
(It is a fantasy for many people to disappear from their present lives. Some people disappear because they want to; others disappear because someone else wants them to. And objects—large objects—sometimes disappear in the same manner.)
THE DAY THE CHILDREN VANISHED Hugh Pentecost
THE TWELFTH STATUE Stanley Ellin
ALL AT ONCE, NO ALICE William Irish
BEWARE OF THE TRAINS Edmund Crispin
THE LOCKED BATHROOM H. R. F. Keating
MIKE, ALEC, AND RUFUS Dashiell Hammett
THE EPISODE OF THE TORMENT IV C. Daly King
GREAVES’ DISAPPEARANCE Julian Hawthorne
THE HOUSE OF HAUNTS Ellery Queen
THE MONKEY TRICK J. E. Gurdon
THE ORDINARY HAIRPINS E. C. Bentley
THE PHANTOM MOTOR Jacques Futrelle
THE THEFT OF THE BERMUDA PENNY Edward D. Hoch
ROOM NUMBER 23 Judson Philips
(There are so many ways for the creative killer to accomplish the act.)
THE BURGLAR WHO SMELLED SMOKE Lynne Wood Block & Lawrence Block
THE KESTAR DIAMOND CASE Augustus Muir
THE ODOUR OF SANCTITY Kate Ellis
THE PROBLEM OF THE OLD OAK TREE Edward D. Hoch
THE INVISIBLE WEAPON Nicholas Olde
THE CONFESSION OF ROSA VITELLI Ray Cummings
THE LOCKED ROOM TO END LOCKED ROOMS Stephen Barr
(It may not be terribly original, but shooting someone tends to be pretty effective.)
NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE Clayton Rawson
WHERE HAVE YOU GONE, SAM SPADE? Bill Pronzini
IN A TELEPHONE CABINET G. D. H. Cole & M. I. Cole
DEATH OUT OF THIN AIR Stuart Towne
THE DREAM Agatha Christie
THE BORDER-LINE CASE Margery Allingham
THE BRADMOOR MURDER Melville Davisson Post
THE MAN WHO LIKED TOYS Leslie Charteris
THE ASHCOMB POOR CASE Hulbert Footner
THE LITTLE HOUSE AT CROIX-ROUSSE Georges Simenon
(How does a thief remove valuables from a closely guarded room? It seems impossible, but …)
THE BIRD IN THE HAND Erle Stanley Gardner
THE GULVERBURY DIAMONDS David Durham
THE FIFTH TUBE Frederick Irving Anderson
THE STRANGE CASE OF STEINKELWINTZ MacKinlay Kantor
ARSÈNE LUPIN IN PRISON Maurice Leblanc
THE MYSTERY OF THE STRONG ROOM L. T. Meade & Robert Eustace
NO WAY OUT Dennis Lynds
THE EPISODE OF THE CODEX’ CURSE C. Daly King
(Often described as a woman’s murder weapon, poison doesn’t really care who administers it.)
THE POISONED DOW ’08 Dorothy L. Sayers
A TRAVELLER’S TALE Margaret Frazer
DEATH AT THE EXCELSIOR P. G. Wodehouse
(Some stories simply can’t be categorized.)
WAITING FOR GODSTOW Martin Edwards
Permissions Acknowledgments
OTTO PENZLER
AMONG AFICIONADOS of detective fiction, the term “locked-room mystery” has become an inaccurate but useful catchall phrase meaning the telling of a crime that appears to be impossible. The story does not require a hermetically sealed chamber so much as a location with an utterly inaccessible murder victim. A bludgeoned, stabbed, or strangled body in the center of pristine snow or sand is just as baffling as a lone figure on a boat at sea or aboard a solo airplane or in the classic locked room.
Like so much else in the world of mystery fiction, readers are indebted to Edgar Allan Poe for the invention of the locked-room mystery, which happened to be the startling core of the first pure detective story ever writt
en, “The Murders in the Rue Morgue,” initially published in the April 1841 issue of Graham’s Magazine. In this groundbreaking tale, two women are heard to be screaming and a group of neighbors race up the stairs to the women’s apartment. They break down the locked door, the key still in the lock on the inside, to find the savagely murdered mother and daughter. The windows are closed and fastened, egress through the fireplace chimney is impassable, and there are no loose floorboards or secret passages. Of course, the police are baffled (just as readers were then, and continue to be today, one hundred seventy years after the story’s original appearance). Only the detective, C. Auguste Dupin, sees the solution, establishing another of the mainstays of the detective story: the brilliant amateur (often replaced in later stories by the private eye) who is smarter than both the criminal and the official police.
The locked-room mystery, or impossible-crime story, is the ultimate manifestation of the cerebral detective story. It fascinates the reader in precisely the same way that a magician is able to bring wonderment to his audience. What he demonstrates appears to be impossible. After all, young ladies, no matter how attractive and scantily clad, don’t just disappear, or turn into tigers, or get sawed in half. Yet we have just seen it happen, right before our very focused eyes.
Be warned. As you read these astoundingly inventive stories, you will inevitably be disappointed, just as explanations of stage illusions exterminate the spell of magic that we experience as we watch the impossible occur. Impossible crimes cannot be impossible, as the detective will quickly point out, because they have happened. Treasure has been stolen from a locked and guarded room or museum or library, in spite of the constant surveillance by trained policemen. A frightened victim-to-be has locked, bolted, and sealed his home because the murderer has warned him that he will die at midnight, and a brigade of officers in a cordon surrounding the house cannot prevent it.
If the mind of a diabolical genius can invent a method of robbery or murder that appears to be insoluble, then surely there must be a mind of equal brilliance that is able to penetrate the scheme and explain its every nuance. That is the detective’s role and, although he appears to be explaining it all to the police and other interested parties, he is, of course, describing the scenario to the reader. The curtain that has masked the magic, that has screened the illusion, is raised, and all returns to ordinary mechanics, physics, and psychology—the stuff of everyday life.
Therefore, if you want to maintain the beauty of a magic show, refuse to listen to a magician who is willing to explain how he performed his illusion. Similarly, if the situations in these locked-room mysteries have provided a delicious frisson of wonder, stop reading them as soon as you reach the denouement.
No, of course you can’t do that. It is human nature to want to know, and the moment of clarity, when all is revealed, brings a different kind of satisfaction. Admiration replaces awe. The legerdemain achieved by the authors of the stories in this volume is, to use a word that has sadly become cheapened by overuse, awesome.
While it is true that Poe invented the locked-room story (although Robert Adey, in the introduction to his monumental bibliography, Locked Room Murders, gives credit to a pioneering effort by the great Irish novelist Sheridan Le Fanu, claiming the honor of first story for “A Passage in the Secret History of an Irish Countess,” which appeared in the November 1838 issue of Dublin University Magazine and was later reprinted in the posthumously published The Purcell Papers in 1880), there can be no argument that the greatest practitioner of this demanding form was John Dickson Carr.
Not only did Carr produce one hundred twenty-six novels, short stories, and radio plays under his own name and as Carter Dickson, but the range of seemingly impossible murder methods he created was so broad and varied that it simply freezes the brain to contemplate. In perhaps the most arrogant display of his command of the locked-room mystery, in his 1935 novel The Three Coffins (published in England as The Hollow Man), he has his series detective, Dr. Gideon Fell, deliver a lecture to a captivated audience. In this display of erudition, Fell spends fifteen pages enumerating all the ways in which a locked room does not turn out to be impenetrable after all, and in which the impossible is clearly explained. He offers scores of ideas for solutions to the most challenging puzzles in the mystery genre, tossing off in rapid succession a greater cornucopia of invention than most mystery writers will conceive in a lifetime. When he has concluded his seemingly comprehensive tutorial, he informs the attendees that none of these explanations are pertinent to the present case and heads off to conclude the investigation.
Many solutions to the feats of prestidigitation in this collection will have been covered in Fell’s lecture, but the sheer inventive genius of many of the contributors will have exceeded even Carr’s tour de force. In his brilliant history of the mystery genre, Murder for Pleasure (1941), Howard Haycraft warned writers of detective fiction to stay away from the locked-room puzzle because “only a genius can invest it with novelty or interest today.” It should be pointed out that, however well-intentioned the admonition, nearly half the stories in this volume were written after the publication date of that cornerstone history and appreciation of the literature of crime.
The locked-room mystery reached its pinnacle of popularity during the Golden Age of detective fiction between the two world wars. This is when Agatha Christie flourished, and so did Dorothy L. Sayers, Ellery Queen, Clayton Rawson, R. Austin Freeman, Margery Allingham, and, of course, Carr. In those years, the emphasis, particularly in England, was on the creation and solution of a puzzle. Readers were more interested in who dunnit, and how dunnit, whereas in the more modern era a greater focus has been placed on why dunnit. Murder—the taking of another person’s life—was a private affair and its solution demanded a ritual that was largely followed by most writers. The book or short story generally began with a fairly tranquil community (even if that community was in a big city such as London or New York) in which all the participants knew each other. A terrible crime, usually murder, occurred, rending the social fabric. The police came to investigate, usually a single detective rather than an entire team of forensic experts, and either he (there were precious few female police officers in the detective stories of that era) would solve the mystery or show himself to be an abject fool, relying on a gifted, and frequently eccentric, amateur to arrive at a conclusion. Clues were placed judiciously throughout the story as the author challenged the reader to solve the case before the protagonist did. The true colors of the least likely suspect were then revealed and he or she was taken into custody, returning the community to its formerly peaceful state.
Many current readers don’t have the patience to follow the trail of clues in a detective story in which all suspects are interviewed (interrogated is a word for later mysteries), all having doubt cast on their alibis, their relationships with the victim, and their possible motives, until all the suspects are gathered for the explanation of how the crime was committed, who perpetrated it, and why they did it. It is not realistic and was never intended to be. It is entertainment, as all fiction is … or should be. Dorothy L. Sayers pointed out that people have amused themselves by creating riddles, conundrums, and puzzles of all kinds, apparently the sole purpose of which is the satisfaction they give themselves by deducing a solution. Struggling with a Rubik’s Cube is a form of torment eliciting a tremendous sense of achievement and joy when it is solved. This is equally true of reading a good detective story, the apotheosis of which is the locked-room puzzle, with the added pleasure of becoming involved with fascinating, occasionally memorable characters, unusual backgrounds, and, when the sun is shining most brightly, told with captivating prose.
Don’t read these stories on a subway train or in the backseat of a car. They want to be read when you are comfortably ensconced in an easy chair or a bed piled high with pillows, at your leisure, perhaps with a cup of tea or a glass of port. Oh, heaven!
THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE
“THE
MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE” is, without question, the single most important story in the history of mystery fiction. In these few pages, Edgar Allan Poe (1809–1849) invented most of the significant elements in a literary form that relied on this template for the next one hundred seventy years: the brilliant detective, his somewhat dimmer sidekick, the still dimmer official police, the apparently impossible crime, misleading clues, the observation of disparate bits of information and the inspired deduction that results, and the denouement in which all is made clear.
Born in Boston and orphaned at the age of two when both his parents died of tuberculosis, Poe was taken in by a wealthy merchant, John Allan, and his wife; although never legally adopted, Poe nonetheless took Allan for his name. He received a classical education in Scotland and England from 1815 to 1820. After returning to the United States, he published his first book, Tamerlane and Other Poems (1827). It, and his next two volumes of poetry, were financial disasters. He won a prize for his story “MS. Found in a Bottle” (1833) and began a series of jobs as editor and critic of several periodicals. While he dramatically increased their circulations, his alcoholism, strong views, and arrogance enraged his bosses, costing him one job after another. He married his thirteen-year-old cousin, Virginia, living in abject poverty for many years with her and her mother. Lack of money undoubtedly contributed to the death of his wife at twenty-four. The most brilliant literary critic of his time, the master of horror stories, the poet whose work remains familiar and beloved to the present day, and the inventor of the detective story, Poe died a pauper.
“The Murders in the Rue Morgue” was first published in the April 1841 issue of Graham’s Magazine. It was first published in book form (if a forty-eight-page pamphlet may be counted as a book) in a very rare volume (a copy in collectors’ condition would sell for at least two hundred fifty thousand dollars) titled Prose Romances (Philadelphia, Graham, 1843), which also contains “The Man That Was Used Up.” It then was collected in Tales (New York, Wiley & Putnam, 1845).