Firmly set during the Christmas period, A Portrait of a Murderer is more Christmassy than my last so-called Christmas mystery, but really it isn’t very Christmassy at all. Christmas is merely the device which brings people together, almost all of whom are absolutely horrid. There is absolutely no Christmas spirit in evidence. However, the story is deftly plotted and in a twist to the traditional whodunnit which I particularly enjoyed, we know fairly early on who the murderer is. I’ve always been a fan of TV detective Columbo, so I enjoy mysteries that use this device.
“”Adrian Gray was born in May 1862 and met his death through violence, at the hands of one of his own children, at Christmas, 1931. The Crime was instantaneous and unpremeditated, and the murderer was left staring from the weapon on the table to the dead man in the shadow of the tapestry curtains, not apprehensive, not yet afraid, but incredulous and dumb.”
Adrian Gray is a difficult old man, he has a poor relationship with his adult children and their spouses, having little time or respect for any of them. His eldest son Richard is a rising MP with his sights firmly set on the Lords, unhappily married to Laura, he is pompous, self-serving and ambitious. Gray’s sour daughter Amy has remained living in the family house, running it like a military operation, her life is narrow and joyless. Olivia is married to Eustace a Jewish financier (cue lots of horrible, stereotypical racial profiling, which is dreadfully uncomfortable and spoiled the book a little for me I have to be honest). Eustace is desperate for money, as is Richard, but unfortunately Eustace has mismanaged some of his father-in-law’s money too. Another daughter; Isobel cowed by a bullying husband, is treated with cool tolerance upon her return home.
“Isobel had always been the independent, the courageous one. She had found herself work in the neighbouring market town, had loved solitude, had read, had gloried in trips to London had haunted book-shops and art galleries. Isobel Devereux came back white and listless, meekly submissive to her father, and handing over to Amy, without demur, practically all the money with which her husband supplied her. She scarcely counted as a personality, but could be relied upon to perform those casual and thankless household duties that are invariably shirked by others.”
Gray’s second son; Hildebrand (generally called Brand) is an artist with a wife who is not welcome at his father’s house, (she has remained behind in Fulham) she is considered common – another stereotypical character portrayal I had problems with. Not only is poor Sophie deemed common, but presumably because of that commonness, she is sluttish, a drunk with the paternity of some of her children apparently in doubt. The last daughter Ruth appears to be the only one leading a normal life, quietly and happily married to a lawyer Miles.
Christmas 1931 and Adrian Gray assembles his family at Kings Poplar for Christmas. Snow lies thickly outside, but there is little warmth inside that house for anyone. Almost everyone inside the house that Christmas might have reason to want to kill Adrian Gray. However, it is just one of them who finds themselves surprisingly and unpremeditated a murderer. Self-preservation takes over – and the culprit sets about creating a false trail leading elsewhere – covering their own tracks as best they can. In this way we can no longer see them as an accidental murderer, but someone callous enough to lie, time and again, and ultimately, potentially see someone else hang.
From here on the novel is a psychological study of a murderer – what they do to evade capture, what they think, how they behave towards others.
On Christmas morning, the body of Adrian Gray is discovered, and it isn’t long before foul play is suspected. The murderer must surely be in the house. The police are contacted, and later that day Sergeant Ross Murray arrives to take charge of the case. Here is one character finely drawn by the author who looks like he will be far more interesting than any of the Gray family – unfortunately he is only around for a couple of chapters – fooled by the murderer’s perfidy, it is someone else entirely who tries to sort out exactly what happened in the early hours of Christmas morning 1931.
Reservations aside this is a very well plotted, intelligent mystery novel. The ending is very clever, and quite satisfying.
(No author picture, as I can’t find one.)
I felt very much the same about this one. I enjoyed it and thought it well written, but some of the stereotyping, especially of Eustace, went beyond what I felt was acceptable even allowing for the time. In the end, the good points outweighed the bad, though.
Yes, overall a good mystery, but as you say even for the times that stereotyping was horrendous.
I just completed reading this book last week. Your review is so complete and so spot-on, I can really think of nothing to add. I really enjoyed reading this book.
Thank you, really glad you enjoyed the book.
I enjoyed this one very much, and oddly didn’t mind the fact that the detective only made a fleeting appearance, as I felt the book was very much a psychological study. Very much agree about the attitudes to Eustace though – so wrong…
Yes, I wanted to believe that the author had put those things into the mouths of the characters that might not reflect the author’s own views. However, I couldn’t really believe that, as no character is ever challenged on it. Therefore, I can assume that it all comes from the author which somehow makes it worse.
The psychological aspect does sound interesting – and very well done by the sound of it. That said, I think I’m going to pass on this one on account of the unfortunate racial stereotyping. Such a pity that this adds a touch of sourness to certain books from this era – even joyous classics like Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day can feel a little tainted by this effect.
Yes, it’s the one thing about vintage books I dislike. I don’t blame you for swerving this one though.
I didn’t love this one: found it competent but unappealing. but I did like it as a prime example of my theory that crime writers will go to any lengths to avoid having children present at the Christmas houseparty…
Ha yes, you’re quite right about that, never any children in these Christmas mysteries,
[…] Portrait of a Murderer by Anne Meredith was recently re-issued by the British Library Crime Classics as their fiftieth title. It is a clever, intelligent mystery, which was marred a little by the anti-Semitic treatment of one character. […]