The Stage Is Set
Only this time, the theatre is in a hospital, and the patient is a man of eminence – the British Home Secretary Sir Derek O’Callaghan, who is about to bring through a bill for the suppression of anarchism – and a man of lowness – after a brief affair he has no scruples about jilting the young hospital nurse Jane Harding. When coming down with acute appendicitis, O’Callaghan is taken to a private hospital run by his friend Sir John Phillips, and at Lady O’Callaghan’s request, he is operated on by Sir John himself. All seems to go well, but after the operation, Sir Derek does not recover and dies, leaving a wife who is convinced of foul play, which assumption is borne out by a post-mortem that certifies an overdose of hyoscine. Time for Roderick Alleyn and his helpmate Inspector Fox to look into the matter.
The list of suspects is long: First of all, there is Jane Harding, who assisted at the operation, and then there is Sir John himself, who performed it and who also wrote a threatening letter to the Home Secretary when he found about the latter’s disgraceful behaviour towards Jane, whom he, Sir John, is in love with. There is also Nurse Banks, a dyed-in-the-wool “Bolshie”, who regards Sir Derek’s demise as a blessing to the communist movement, and two more doctors, the buffoon Mr. Thom and the anæsthetist, both without apparent motive but with ample opportunity to commit the crime. Finally, we have another communist, Harold Sage, who might have used the unsuspecting and rather foolish sister of the deceased in order to administer a lethal dose of hyoscine to the victim.
I liked The Nursing Home Murder, the third Roderick-Alleyn-novel, a lot better than the two preceding ones, especially because of the entertaining interaction between Alleyn and Fox, the intermezzo involving Nigel Bathgate and Angela North and the ludicrous excursion about the investigators’ visit at a communist meeting. Apart from that the idea of making an operating theatre the scene of a murder made this novel stand out. There were also some downsides, though, the first one being a rather personal one, namely that I really fail to warm up towards Roderick Alleyn – in contrast to Lord Peter Wimsey, or to Miss Marple, both of whom I wholeheartedly adore. Then there is the fact that once again, like in the two preceding novels, Alleyn makes use of a re-enactment of the murder in order to solve the case, which has by now worn rather thin, and, last not least, the solution is arrived at by a mere coincidence. Still, this third case of Alleyn’s made me more interested in the series.