Putting together a collection of crime stories featuring the police should be a piece of cake for an anthologist of Edwards's talent, but this collection feels off. Not that the stories are bad (mostly), and you'll certainly meet some major names from detective fiction, but a lot of these stories, especially the early ones, don't really seem to center the police, in spite of starring them.
“The Mystery of Chenholt” (1908) by Alice and Claud Askew immediately demonstrates what I mean; it's not bad, for its age and obscurity, but you could change the protagonist to a private detective and change nothing else about the story. The converse of this basically never occurs—you couldn't make Sherlock Holmes part of Scotland Yard without radically changing things.
“The Silence of PC Hirley” (1909) by Edgar Wallace is more like it. It's a very brief piece of fun about a murdered blackmailer.
“The Mystery of a Midsummer Night” (1911) by George R Sims is brief and not very interesting, but does technically feature a police detective, which is really more than can be said for ...
���The Cleverest Clue” (1937 according to Philsp, which would mean it's in the wrong place in the collection) by Laurence Meynell, where the police detective plays second fiddle to someone else. Also, the story flatly doesn't work as written—the idea is that a kidnapping victim slips a clue into a note he's being forced to write, but the kidnapper composes the note, not the victim.
“The Undoing of Mr Dawes” (1935) by Gerald Verner, is fine, but again, it doesn't feel like it's about a police detective. The protagonist seems to have no rank (he's referred to as “Mr.”) and the story itself winks at us and points out that the methods of Mr. Budd are pretty far afield from what actual cops are allowed to do.
“The Man Who Married Too Often” (1936) by Roy Vickers is fun (and has great character work), but Vickers's Department of Dead Ends verges on being a deconstruction of the detective genre, and is completely divorced from actual police work.
“The Case of Jacob Heylyn” (1937) by Leonard R. Gribble is the first story in this collection that feels to me like it really belongs—divisional inspects and medical examiners and people ordering subordinates about. Not at all bad, and not the author's fault that I instantly identified the killer—a much more contemporarily famous mystery writer would use the same trick about a decade later.
“Fingerprints” (1952) by Freeman Wills Crofts is brief enough that I didn't mind it, although I find Crofts, and his Inspector French, very dull. I do mean brief—it's an inverted mystery, and French has five lines of dialogue in total at the end.
“Remember to Ring Twice” (1950) E. C. R. Lorac is incredibly brief, but still irritates me. Lorac is a big name, but I've read two stories by her and disliked them both in the same way. Also, phonetically written out accents are always a bad idea.
“Cotton Wool and Cutlets” (1940) by Henry Wade is … fine? I feel like you can rummage through Ellery Queen magazines and find any number of stories of similar quality, and John Bragg, who the introduction tells us “likes playing his own hand, and has a penchant for looking for trouble,” never displays this alleged trait, with the result that he has little personality at all.
“After the Event” (1958) by Christianna Brand is back to being basically unrelated to real police work; it features a nameless Great Detective recounting a case where he failed to get a conviction, while Inspector Cockrill snipes at him, and ultimately reveals the truth. It may seem like it's making fun of the tradition, but this is the only story in the book that actually has a great detective making brilliant deductions … it just twists things a little by having it be a police inspector. This is a delightful story, and I'll seek out more of Brand's work.
“Sometimes the Blind” (1963) by Nicholas Blake is a very short story about someone poisoning a blind man's guide dog. A nasty and well-written little tale.
“The Chief Witness” (1957) by John Creasey is a domestic tragedy that sags a little around the middle, but has a vivid beginning. I understand wanting to be sensitive to child witnesses, but the fact that they apparently never questioned the child at all until the very end beggars belief, and makes everyone seem much more incompetent than they were probably meant to.
“Old Mr Martin” (1960) by Michael Gilbert is resolved by a deus ex machina, but has a real bite.
“The Moorlanders” (1966) by Gil North is extremely short, and occasionally confusing (phonetic dialects), but is good fun, even if the denouement seems more like divine revelation than actual policework.
So … an odd and kind of uneven collection, but it certainly has some gems, and few outright failures. Selecting them on their merit as stories, and not worrying about whether I think they belong here, my favorite are “The Silence of PC Hirley,” “The Man Who Married Too Often,” “After the Event,” “Sometimes the Blind,” and “Old Mr Martin.”