Death of a Viewer by Adams, Herbert (2012) Paperback

Roger Bennion #28

by Herbert Adams

from the first page of the book:

1. Conspiracy

"Sandra, we are broke."

"More than usual?"

"Infinitely more. Finally, definitely and completely broke."

"What is it--cards or racing?"

"Both, and something on the Stock Exchange. I am sorry, darling, but never in my life have I known such damnable ill-luck. Everything at once. To get square I plunged on Last Chance for the big race. It was a cert and it won. But the jockey was disqualified. That put the lid on."

There was no reply. The room was luxurious rather than poverty-stricken and the two people in it showed no signs of penury. It was an apartment in a South Kensington hotel. Not perhaps the most fashionable quarter in that area--if there is one--but its charges were high and its appointments adequate.

The man perched on the arm of a well-padded settee looked less rueful than his words might have suggested. He had good features and dark wavy hair. He was in evening clothes of the latest style, complete except that he had not yet donned his "tails.” His trousers, shirt and shoes left nothing to be desired. The girl, sitting in front of the mirror, was using her lipstick. Over her dainty underwear she had a quilted, silken bed jacket, partially fastened. The dress she was to wear lay on the bed. From his perch the man could see her reflection in the glass, the curves of her neck and the fine contours of her breasts. He could also see himself. They were in fact as good-looking a couple as one could easily find. He noted with pleasure, as he always did, her feminine shapeliness, her golden hair and clear blue eyes. He was watching the expression on her face. It had not changed as he told of his misfortunes and when she spoke her voice showed no emotion.

"How exactly do we stand?" she said at last.

"As the bankruptcy people, unfeeling brutes, will put it--liabilities £4,000, assets nil. I have enough cash to keep us here for another two or three weeks but I owe a tidy bit to Marcus Galloway. Nothing further doing there. Have you anything?"

"The price of a cab fare. My little bit gone?"

She could see his head as he nodded. "I am afraid, darling, everything is gone."

There was another uneasy silence. How would she take it? He watched her anxiously, as well he might.

Paperback

First published January 1, 1958

About the author

Herbert Adams (1874–1958) was an English writer of fifty 'cosy' mystery novels, mostly featuring the detective Roger Bennion, which were often set in or around golfing competitions. He also wrote short stories, humorous verse and two other mystery novels under the pseudonym Jonathan Gray.

Reviews

[Lucy · Rating 2 out of 5]

I had never heard of this author before chancing on some of his work on PG Australia. He apparently was a prolific writer of murder mysteries in the middle of the twentieth century, and seems to have been more or less forgotten.
After reading this, I can see why. Badly written cardboard characters with plot holes you could throw a bomb through, let alone fire a gun. The only redeeming feature was the portrayal of fellow-travelling Socialists of the Fifties, who were nicely skewered. And fascinating to have a contemporary take on the young Queen Elizabeth and whether she would rescue the Monarchy.