The mid-1960's was a bad time for Scotland Yard's PR department. First a brutal, corrupt Inspector named Callender made headlines. Then Joe Orten's play LOOT (featuring a brutal, corrupt Scotland Yard detective) became a hit. But the low point came when Joyce Porter's fictional Chief Inspector Wilf Dover (fat, lazy, uncouth, and dishonest) appeared on the scene.
Porter was raised in a middle-class family in a village in the north of England and won a scholarship to attend London University. She served in the military during WWII and then trained Royal Air Force intelligence operatives for many years. In 1964, she resigned from the RAF and told her horrified family that she was now a writer.
Indeed she was, with three books already written and a publisher signed up for all three. She eventually published ten popular mysteries and a book of short stories featuring the infamous Dover.
DOVER THREE (my personal favorite) is a typical Dover tale. An unimportant crime has been committed (the Yard would NEVER send Dover out on anything important) and Scotland Yard's presence has been requested. Once again, old Wilf and his long-suffering partner Sergeant MacGregor are dispatched on a train to the wilds of northern England.
Although recovering from a particularly unpleasant intestinal disorder (DON'T ASK!) Dover is less reluctant than usual to leave the comforts of London. His wife's sister is in town for an extended visit. Wilf-the-Bully has his wife under his thumb, but Sister is made of sterner stuff. A few weeks in a nice hotel at government expense seems like the lesser of two evils.
An uncomfortable bed in a run-down pub in the cheerless village of Thornwich is hardly what he had in mind. Meals (and food is always of first importance to Dover) are sketchy and the only redeeming grace is the local grocer, who befriends the Inspector and provides a steady supply of drinks and cigarettes, as well as a sympathetic and admiring ear. And so our hero settles in to wait out his sentence while making unenthusiastic stabs at investigating the obscene letters that brought him to Thornwich.
Although Dover sees the whole affair as a tempest-in-a-teapot, local ladies who've received anonymous letters are at fever pitch. No sooner does the Shame of Scotland Yard start his lackadaisical investigation than one of the victims attempts suicide. When a second successfully gasses herself, the fat's in the fire for Dover. Butting heads with Thornwich's formidable Dame Alice while fending off the criticisms of the local police proves to be much more work than the Inspector wants, but that, too, is typical.
The mystery is finally solved in a bizarrely entertaining way and Dover's admiring fans are once again treated to a prime example of detective work at its worst and funniest. Porter was a wonderful writer with a genius for creating hilariously eccentric characters. If the conversation between Dover and the senile, pugnacious Dr. Hawnt doesn't make you laugh until you rupture yourself, check your pulse.
Thankfully, these wonderful books are now available in Kindle editions.