"Now, this is the way I look at it. One person kills another, willfully or accidentally. Society feels, naturally, that such a crime should be punished. But look at that punishment. It usually consists, or is supposed to, of removal from society — complete excision — either by life imprisonment or death. Why — punishment? Vengeance? Retribution? Not entirely. To cure the murderer of murdering? We haven’t found that murder is curable. To stop other people from murdering in their turn? It doesn’t work that way; new murderers spring up under the harshest laws. No. It’s because a person who has killed once, and gotten away with it, is so likely to kill again."
It's 1938 and young divorcee Gwynne Dacres finds herself in an unfortunate situation: she's lost her job and needs to find a new places to live. She reluctantly takes a two-room unit in an old mansion-turned-boarding house run by the elderly but rather unfriendly Mrs. Garr. Gwynne's relief at finding an inexpensive rental is short-lived, however, when a series of mysterious events starts to unfold. Soon after she's overcome with the feeling that a presence in the house is "listening" to the nightly comings and goings, she walks outside to find a man lying dead at the bottom of the hill the house overlooks. Mrs. Garr — watchful over something unnamed that she's hidden within the house and convinced one of her is boarders snooping around looking for it — vanishes and is also found dead in a gruesome scene not long after. And as Gwynne becomes more entwined in the case, the attacker makes desperate, violent attempts to get rid of her as well.
It's a twisty mystery, with the several boarders who live in the house with Gwynne as suspects: there's maid Mrs. Tewman and her husband; Mrs. Garr's niece Mrs. Halloran and her lazy husband; newspaper printer and wannabe charmer Hodge Kistler; the twitchy Mr. Grant; worn-down saleswoman Myrtle Sands; retired cop Mr. Waller and his wife; and standoffish Mr. Buffingham, whose son is a criminal. The local Lieutenant Strom becomes a frequent presence in the house as Gwynne uncovers more evidence and theories, and the more involved Gwynne becomes with the mystery, the more she learns about Mrs. Garr's past and the old lady's connection to an infamous kidnapping that took place 20 years earlier. But what does the past have to do with the present murders, and what was Mrs. Garr hiding in her home that was worth killing her for?
Gwynne's grit and determination to solve the mystery, her refusal to accept unsatisfying answers, is really what drives this novel. She's smart and can hold her own against the unfriendly boarders, the dismissive police, and the anonymous presence out there trying to kill her. It's a witty read, too — Gwynne's voice is often dryly humorous and sarcastic, and although some of the male characters feel smart-alecky and sexist, she does have a good repartee with them.
Certainly, Strom's methods in this case had depended strongly on accusation of everyone who came under suspicion.
The men stood about in the hall after that, talking with that insufferably superior indulgence men often use when some woman has exhibited weakness.
“Mrs. Sorry-for-the-Underdog speaks up from her corner. She’s sorriest of all when the underdog chloroforms her.”
“It was ether. A dry cleaner.”
“Well, you never heard of anyone being ethered, did you? Or dry-cleaned, did you? There isn’t any verb for that. It doesn’t sound lethal enough.”
I did find parts of this book to be quite slow; at points it felt like an endless parade of the cops coming and going, interviewing the boarders again and again, with no new information or events to spark up further interest. I also thought there were maybe too many characters; some of the boarders feel indistinguishable from one another, some of them play no significant role, and I had a hard time remembering who was who.
Overall, though, a witty, intriguing read, with an unexpected but sharp ending.