Vegetable Duck
A review of Vegetable Duck by John Rhode – 250701
At the risk of sounding like Julian Clary, I love a stuffed marrow but I did not know that the vegetable stuffed with meat was known as a vegetable duck, at least in the 1940s. This is the key to understanding the curious title of the fortieth book in John Rhode’s long-running Dr Lancelot Priestly series, originally published, and recently reissued in a Kindle version which is riddled with typos. The dish also makes for an ingenious murder weapon with the poison digitalis evenly distributed throughout the vegetable by threading a piece of string through its stem attached to a jar with the deadly substance mixed in the water.
Vegetable Duck, widely regarded as one of Rhode’s finest, is based on a real life crime, the murder of Julia Wallace, who was found by her husband, William, on his return after he had been urgently summoned away to go to an address which did not exist. Was the summons an attempt to give William an alibi or if it was genuine, who made it and were they responsible for killing Julia? Wallace was acquitted and no one has satisfactorily solved the case, making it a fascinating source of inspiration for crime writers.
Just before he was to sit down for his evening meal, Charles Fransham was called away by a phone call and left the flat on what turned out to be a wild goose chase. On his return he met a neighbour, Walter Nunney, and when the two went into the flat, they found Letty, Frensham’s wife, dead, having been poisoned after tucking into the vegetable duck. Was Fransham’s departure an attempt to create an alibi? Inspector Jimmy Waghorn of the Yard is set the task of making sense of it all.
Poor old Jimmy Waghorn. Not only does he have to solve a fiendish puzzle but he also has to subject his findings to a regular Saturday night review at Dr Priestly’s home, during which the eminent professor delights in pouring scorn on his latest theory and providing helpful directions as to how he might more profitably bring the case to a conclusion.
Initially, it seems pretty clear that Fransham is the murderer, especially as he was on the scene when his brother-in-law, Harry Beccles, was killed in a shooting accident. The police believed that Fransham was to blame but could not prove it conclusively. Fransham had been receiving anonymous letters threatening revenge on behalf of the dead man and there was a letter to Letty which had been inexplicably delayed in the post – we are talking of a time when the post was far more reliable than it is now – which had she received it in time would have meant that she would have been out and Charles would have eaten the vegetable duck. Perhaps Charles was the intended victim after all, a feeling intensified when he too is murdered.
Then there is Fransham’s son from his first marriage, Paul, who disapproved of his father’s drinking and disliked his step-mother. Was that motive enough to put him in the frame? Add in the mystery of how the marrow delivered to the flat and by whom, a mysterious visitor, several young men in varying guises and names who crop up from time to time including the mysterious Corpusty, and the insouciant distant relation, Dimsdale, and you have the ingredients for an intriguing mystery.
In essence, it is a story of revenge and greed. Most of what the reader needs to make sense of it all is provided in the early chapters and for the most part the story is fairly clued. The way Rhode leads his reader up the garden path time and time again only to remind them of an awkward fact that does not quite fit in is masterly. It all hangs together in the end, the only loose end being the fate of Beccles.
Priestley’s role is pared back to almost the bare minimum, becoming just the catalyst for moving the story on in different directions. For those who find him a bit rich, that might just be the perfect balance in what is a thoroughly enjoyable story. Pity about the typos, though.
