Felony and Mayhem

I've missed you, missed you, missed you. I have so much to tell you, but where to start. Let's talk about books, shall we?

One would think that with shelves heavy with books I have yet to read I would have no trouble finding something just right. But the sad fact is, of late it has been all fits and starts - with nothing quite right. A trip to the bookstore was in order. Sometimes nothing else will do – not even the library...or the shoe department at Macys. I usually haunt a small, locally owned (and home grown) bookstore on one of the squares downtown. It’s the sort of little shop with creaky wooden floors, low ceilings, over-stuffed furniture, and “rooms.” Being an independent bookseller, it is staffed with people who actually read most of the books in stock - an often overlooked but valuable fringe benefit. Go often enough and someone will eventually learn your reading taste and be able to set your compass to true North. But, it’s hard to compete with the big boys. As a result some of the books are a bit more expensive than one would find at a large chain. And, obviously, the boundaries of its real estate prevent it from holding as many titles as one would find at a mega store. Nevertheless, for sheer meandering through stacks, it is my bookstore of choice. You are welcomed at the door with the tinkle of a little bell, and a smile, and a greeting for a “good” time of day. But I was on the other side of town meeting with a client whose store is spitting distance from Barnes & Noble. And so what’s a girl to do? True, there was also the lure of my discount membership. I am almost ashamed to say how fickle I am in my loyalty when a 5% discount is involved. I caved. I was not sure what I wanted although I felt certain I would know it when I found it. A stroll down the Fiction section merited nothing; I moved on to the Mystery aisle.

It was there, on a top shelf, I came across a series of books published by Felony & Mayhem Press with Art Deco covers reminiscent of 1936 movie stills. Although they publish several “vintage” authors, these volumes were written by the late British author, Margery Allingham. An inside page proclaimed that books published by Felony & Mayhem were originally published prior to 1965 and featured “the kind of twisty, ingenious puzzles beloved by fans of Agatha Christie and John Dickson Carr.” Aside from the delicious name of the publishing house, the book titles themselves were too seductive to resist: Police At The Funeral, Death Of A Ghost, The Case Of The Late Pig, Dancers In Mourning, and The Fashion In Shrouds. But I could only allow myself one and eventually chose The Crime At Black Dudley. Joyous find! What fun! It was the jolt my happy-reader-button needed. Even better, Black Dudley introduces Allingham’s “gentleman sleuth”, Albert Campion. Better still - there are more.

I fully appreciate that the cliche of the English manor house in the middle of nowhere, filled with eccentric house guests, and murder committed in the dark during a parlor game has been so overworked it should itself fall dead with a thud. But it works. It even seems fresh.

Although obviously well known to many readers, Margery Allingham was new to me. I therefore lay claim to her as my very own discovery. Usually newly found authors come my way through the suggestions of others. I am very puffed up that I stumbled upon Allingham without any hints from the outside world. How I blithely worked my way through Miss Marple, and Hercule Poirot, and Sherlock Holmes and Nancy Drew without bumping into Allingham I shall never know. Chalk it up to one of the benefits of an inadequate education, perhaps. Since she was a fairly prolific writer prior to her death from breast cancer in June of 1966, (the same month and year I graduated from high school) knowing there are other volumes waiting for me when what I am reading gets dreary feels a little like opening the pantry door and finding provisions in store for a blustery winter.

A few days after my great discovery, I met the author of one of the best books I have read lately. I was carrying Black Dudley at the time, having just a few more pages to go until the end. I am afraid I spent more time discussing Allingham than John Wilkes Booth. Nevertheless, he was gracious - and I think his interest was piqued. But that’s another story for another time.