The
majority of the stories were published in the annual hardback series, Winter’s Crimes. A scattering of others
appeared in magazines, among them Woman,
Woman and Home, and Ellery Queen’s
Mystery Magazine.
It’s
inevitable perhaps that, considering the period of the writing, some themes and
murder methods are repeated; even some character names are used again, as well
as cruise ship names. This can’t be a criticism because at the time of their
writing there was no conception of these tales being collected. It’s
interesting to note, though, how certain names stick in the writer’s forebrain
and insist on coming out more than once. Most writers have to watch out for
this. By their nature, the stories are ‘tell’ rather than ‘show’ – certainly,
some could have been developed into full length novels, with sub-plots.
Characterisation
has to be limited since the stories are short. Within the word constraints,
Yorke achieves a great deal, offering us widowers, widows, unhappily married
couples, and virtually all have a grudge smouldering from some past event, misdemeanour
or mistreatment. A few are sad
individuals who live a lie and might as well be dead. Space does not permit
referring to each story, but I would single out a sample handful.
‘The
Liberator’ is told in the first person; the elderly narrator is able to use her
lethal skills to right what she considers to be wrongs. In ‘The Reckoning’
Ellen determines to do away with her seventy-year-old husband… and succeeds,
but Nemesis has something to say about her fate. Indeed, hand of fate and deus ex machina endings pop up more than
once in these stories.
A
few tales are quite dark, notably ‘Anniversary’, when Mrs Frobisher plots to
kill her rich husband, but things don’t quite go according to plan. ‘The Mouse
will Pay’ is about a particularly nasty poison pen letter-writer.
In
my view, the best of the bunch is ‘Means to Murder’, a period piece that evokes
a past time and an injustice, viewed by a child who grows to adulthood.
Overall,
a fascinating collection, best to be dipped into rather than read in one go.
Yorke dredges up the sinister from the everyday, the unease from the normal,
and certainly lets the past cast its shadow on the present for her
protagonists.
Margaret Yorke died in 2012, aged 88.
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