Initially, L. J. Hurst worked in the backrooms of the media industry. He now divides his time between work for an international scientific publisher and a rather more British independent bookseller. In years past he was a regular attendee at the Shots on the Page Festivals from whence Shots Mag sprung
Thank goodness for publishers who are re-issuing their classic authors such as the British Library’s Crime Classics as well as HarperCollins’ Collins Crime Club. This ‘forgotten’ work by John Rhode is a gem and ripe for rediscovery.
First published in 1936, Death At Breakfast has Dr Priestley aiding two Detectives investigating a murder in a London suburb. It also reflects the changes the Metropolitan Police were undergoing at that time.
Superintendent Hanslet is the old-hand coming to the end of his working life, and Inspector Jimmy Waghorn is the new-hand, not long out of the Hendon Police College (recently introduced by Lord Trenchard).
A vaguely unattractive (and mean man), an auditor in an accountant’s firm dies of poison as he eats his breakfast. His only companion is his sister who has been forced by penury to work as his housekeeper, and is forced to run down the road to fetch a doctor; leaving the house empty and the door open.
The Doctor informs the police that the death is unnatural, so Superintendent Hanslet and Inspector Waghorn begin their investigation. They identify the poison and although found among the breakfast things, they soon realises that it must have been administered in some other way. Suspicion falls upon the dead man’s sister and so they work backwards to try to identify how she did it, and so enters Dr Priestley.
Although Death At Breakfast has many grotesque features, it also has resonance with those reading contemporary news reports. It seems that the Police are looking for ways to place guilt on someone fast, and perhaps disregarding any evidence that doesn’t fit.
In this novel it is the discrepancies between different accounts that help Dr Priestley realise the true motive for the crime, which is not a million miles from the discrepancies today between a complainant’s statements and the texts they sent. The question is, have the Police inadvertently overlooked some evidence, or perhaps ignored it in order to solve a crime and get a ‘collar’. Whether John Rhode at the time thought the Police methods were acceptable, or not, or wished to comment upon in a novel is not clear.
Some of the Crime Club reprints seem to be thrillers rather than detective stories, but Death At Breakfast sits on both edges of the genre. If more John Rhode titles appear, I’d advise grabbing them at the first opportunity.
Editor’s Note : John Rhode was one of the pseudonyms used by Cecil Street
