When businessman Edward Garvin comes in to consult Perry Mason, he implies that Mason’s secretary, Della Street, should leave the room because it’s “a delicate matter.” Nothing doing, says Mason. “‘I specialize in delicate matters.’” And it is in fact a delicate matter.
Garvin is worried about the validity of his marriage to his young second wife, Lorraine. When he was courting her, he thought his first wife, Ethel, had gotten a divorce in Nevada, but that turned out not to be true. He tried to remedy the situation by obtaining a divorce in Mexico before marrying Lorraine, but now Ethel is threatening him with a bigamy charge to get a big property settlement.
Mason agrees to look into it, but the case soon escalates to encompass possible wrongdoing in Garvin’s business. Things come to a head when Ethel Garvin is found murdered. The circumstances seem to point pretty clearly to Edward as the killer, even though he and Lorraine were with Mason in Tijuana, Mexico, on the night of the crime.
When Garvin goes on trial for murder, the District Attorney relishes the opportunity to beat Mason in court. After Mason surprises him with an opening statement that is the definition of minimalism, the D.A. tells his assistant, “‘I can see how Mason has built up a reputation for himself. He’s a grandstander, he’s smart, and he’s always putting on a show for the jury. Tomorrow I’m going to have the great pleasure of knocking the wind out of him. We’re going to smash that poise of his like a gunner smashes a clay pigeon.’”
But of course, Perry Mason is no pigeon, clay or otherwise. Despite some inconvenient facts and uncooperative witnesses—including his own client—he manages to sort things out and uncover the truth to get his client off the hook. Not that anyone who has ever heard of Perry Mason had any doubt.
The Case of the Dubious Bridegroom is a good mystery that contains enough ambiguous clues and red herrings to keep readers guessing about exactly how Ethel Garvin was killed and who killed her. There is also some good back-and-forth in the courtroom. Somewhat oddly, though, the book doesn’t culminate in a courtroom victory, but rather with a reluctant witness finally telling Mason what happened. That seemed a little abrupt to me.
As a postscript, prospective readers should keep in mind that this book was written in 1949. That comes into play in two ways. First, it contains some old-fashioned attitudes toward women. Mason enjoys describing women’s bodies, from the legs and curves of Virginia Colfax to the rolling “seductive hips” of the woman who runs the hotel in Tijuana. Mason’s not exactly misogynistic—for example, he treats Della Street more as a partner than an underling—but he’d have some adjustments to make in 2021. Second, some of the clues involved in the case are dated. For example, a Dictaphone that records onto cylinders is a potential clue. And Mason deduces that Ethel Garvin filled up the gas tank of her car at a private ranch rather than at a service station because the windshield was still dirty. Ah for the old days of the Texaco service station attendants running out to your car in their snappy uniforms!