Black Maria, M. A.: A Classic Crime Novel Read online

  BORGO PRESS BOOKS BY JOHN RUSSELL FEARN

  1,000-Year Voyage: A Science Fiction Novel

  Black Maria, M.A.: A Classic Crime Novel (Black Maria #1)

  The Crimson Rambler: A Crime Novel

  Don’t Touch Me: A Crime Novel

  Dynasty of the Small: Classic Science Fiction Stories

  The Empty Coffins: A Mystery of Horror

  The Fourth Door: A Mystery Novel

  From Afar: A Science Fiction Mystery

  The G-Bomb: A Science Fiction Novel

  Here and Now: A Science Fiction Novel

  Into the Unknown: A Science Fiction Tale

  Last Conflict: Classic Science Fiction Stories

  The Man from Hell: Classic Science Fiction Stories

  The Man Who Was Not: A Crime Novel

  One Way Out: A Crime Novel (with Philip Harbottle)

  Pattern of Murder: A Classic Crime Novel

  Reflected Glory: A Dr. Castle Classic Crime Novel

  Robbery Without Violence: Two Science Fiction Crime Stories

  Rule of the Brains: Classic Science Fiction Stories

  Shattering Glass: A Crime Novel

  The Silvered Cage: A Scientific Murder Mystery

  Slaves of Ijax: A Science Fiction Novel

  The Space Warp: A Science Fiction Novel

  The Time Trap: A Science Fiction Novel

  Vision Sinister: A Scientific Detective Thriller

  What Happened to Hammond? A Scientific Mystery

  Within That Room!: A Classic Crime Novel

  COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

  Copyright © 1949 by John Russell Fearn

  Copyright © 2007, 2012 by Philip Harbottle

  “Introduction: John Russell Fearn’s Black Maria, M.A.” Copyright © 2012 by Philip Harbottle

  “Black Maria, M.A.” Copyright © 1949 by John Russell Fearn; Copyright © 1991 by Philip Harbottle

  Previously published in different form

  under the pen name, John Slate.

  Published by Wildside Press LLC

  www.wildsidebooks.com

  DEDICATION

  To the memory of Carrie Fearn

  INTRODUCTION

  JOHN RUSSELL FEARN’S BLACK MARIA, M.A.

  BLACK MARIA, M.A. was the very first detective novel written by English writer John Russell Fearn. He had began his writing career as a science fiction writer in the early thirties, and by the end of that decade he was appearing regularly in the U.S. pulp magazines. But in January 1940, he confided in a letter to his friend William F. Temple (then a tyro sf author himself) that he was determined to break into the wider book market, and was engaged on the first draft of a detective novel:

  “Title will be Black Maria, M.A. and it embodies the new idea of a Headmistress from Suffolk who goes to the U.S. to solve the riddle of her brother’s apparent suicide...to do this she follows out the ideas she has read in Yank film mags and seen in gangster films (on the q.t.) See the gag? The yarn will have equal chance on both sides of the water for a tryout.”

  Later, he told Temple that he now felt that detective stories were his real forte, and he was “thinking of gradually chucking sf and turning entirely to detective mysteries, long and short. I love ’em!”

  By March, 1940 he reported to Temple that he had completed his first draft of the novel, “but now I’m damned if I can find the time to type out the final copy! It just lies—and lies—while I churn out stuff in between for endless streams of ever-appearing American mags and try and get some order into things to give Carnell the best I can do.” This latter remark was a reference to a proposed new British sf magazine, New Worlds, to be edited by John Carnell. Carnell later told me that Fearn had submitted hundreds of thousands of words to him, from which he had selected several stories, only for the magazine to be aborted when the financial support for it collapsed.

  1940 saw the peak of Fearn’s production for the American sf magazines, with more than two dozen of his stories appearing that year alone. The exigencies of the war (and the collapse of the proposed British sf market) dictated that he had to concentrate on his established U.S. markets. Then, in 1943, following difficulty in obtaining payment for his stories in the U.S., Fearn made a fresh effort to break out of the pulps. This time he made it.

  He finished Black Maria, M.A. and succeeded in selling it to Rich and Cowan, an established hardcover imprint of the giant Hutchinson UK publishing chain. It was an immediate success, and Fearn was asked to write sequels, under the contractual pen name of “John Slate.” Within a couple of years, he had a second contract under his belt, writing a separate detective series for another Hutchinson imprint, Stanley Paul, as “Hugo Blayn.” He was also selling “one-off” detective mystery novels to the prestigious Toronto Star Weekly, in Canada, whose novels were also syndicated to several American newspapers. The late 1940s saw Fearn concentrating his creative powers almost exclusively in detective novels, although he continued to write sf as a sideline.

  During his lifetime Fearn published five novels in England featuring ‘Black Maria’ and whilst several of the novels have been reprinted in the USA by Wildside Press, the very first ‘origin’ novel has never previously been published in an American edition—until now, as part of Borgo Press’s ambitious programme of publishing all of Fearn’s detective novels in new American editions.

  Black Maria, M.A is undoubtedly a classic of the “locked room” genre. It was translated and published in France (along with its immediate sequel) and was optioned for French radio. In 1991, the French crime fiction expert Roland Lacourbe included it in his non-fiction 99 Chambres Closes, a book which celebrated and listed ninety-nine of the greatest “locked room” detective novels ever published in France, ranking “Black Maria” along with the finest creations of authors such as Gaston Leroux, S. S. Van Dine, C. Daly King, Fredric Brown, and Agatha Christie.

  In 1949, Walter Gillings, the editor of Hutchinson’s Crime Book Magazine, asked Fearn to write an article in their featured series “Detectives of Fiction,” telling “how he invented the character of his school-ma’am sleuth.” I can do no better than let Fearn himself tell the inside story of his remarkable character....

  —Philip Harbottle

  2012

  MARIA BLACK, M.A.

  DETECTIVES OF FICTION: JOHN SLATE Tells How He Invented the Character of His School-Ma’am Sleuth—

  Miss Maria Black was conceived in my mind out of no more than a memory—a childhood memory of a distant relative with the commanding manner of a general and the logical mind of an analyst. She underwent modifications and alterations in the course of her development, until she emerged as an elderly headmistress with a fund of knowledge, of psychological insight and, above all, understanding of human nature.

  That a lady supervising a successful girls’ college should also possess all the attributes of a keen student of crime seemed at first too much to expect; and if Maria had remained a “straight” character she would probably not have got beyond the first hurdle. But by infusing some humor into the situation I could easily imagine Miss Maria being so human in herself as to sneak off to enjoy her favorite pastime when nobody was looking. Hence her clandestine visits to the local cinema where crime films hold sway, and her ruling that none of her pupils should go there in case they see her in the one-and-nines!

  The name of Maria Black was suggested by another of my relatives, and such I christened her once I saw that the beauty of the name lies in its reversibility, especially among schoolgirls looking for an alternative to “The Beak”. Then, one can hardly dissociate a “black maria” from a police van, which is suggestive of criminals brought to book.
/>
  Maria’s first appearance, in BLACK MARIA, M.A., took her to America, where she encountered that contrasting character “Pulp” Martin, a gentlemanly tough from the Bowery. I became so fond of him that he continued to act as Maria’s bodyguard in her later adventures, doing for her the sort of work she cannot do herself while preserving her dignity. His flamboyance, his foul cigarettes and atrocious suits, serve to offset her straight-backed frigidity and strengthen the humor which is a dominant strain in the Maria novels.

  In MARIA MARCHES ON, second of the series, the dirty work took place within the noble pile of Roseway College for Young Ladies, and I sensed the danger of limiting her activities to these precincts. Then it became obvious that the nearby village had possibilities; and so a cinema and a stretch of adjacent countryside became venues for crime, while in ONE REMAINED SEATED and THY ARM ALONE appeared another character who, by his almost incredible obtuseness, helped to underline Maria’s perspicacity. Inspector “Eyebrows” Morgan is not, I hope, typical of a village police inspector: he is, rather, a caricature of one, deliberately overdrawn to extract all the humor it is possible to extract from a story of crime.

  In her latest exploit, DEATH IN SILHOUETTE, Maria contrives to break free of both college and environs to investigate the suicide of a young man engaged to one of her former pupils. With her again, inevitably, is “Pulp” Martin; and as in all her cases, Maria uses quite conventional means to achieve her effects. Scorning the elaborate paraphernalia of the professional detective, she is always careful to stay on her own side of the fence while assisting justice to assert itself. When she cannot prove a point by forensic methods she shames the professional into doing it and so gains her end, her strong suit being the biting sarcasm she employs when the ponderous juggernaut of the law misses the mark.

  —John Russell Fearn

  CHAPTER ONE

  It was generally known among the students of Roseway College for Young Ladies that the Headmistress intended spending her summer vacation in the United States. This was decidedly intriguing. Irresponsible students spent much of the time usually devoted to soaking in French verbs trying to decide how the inexorable ruler of this South England school would react to American life.... Per­haps the most significant point of all was that Miss Maria Black, M.A., intended leaving for America before the usual time for summer holiday break-up. This suggested to various minds that there might be an easing up in the implacable discipline usually enforced from the gymnasium atop the college to the kitchens in the basement.

  The climax to the hint-and-whisper campaign came when a command was issued for a complete gathering of the school in the Assembly Hall immediately after Chapel one morning. The teachers and Housemistresses gathered on the dais and sat like so many penitents. The girls themselves kept quiet, divided between boredom and interest, awaiting Miss Black’s inevitable appearance from the rear door of the hail. This was a melodramatic entrance she could never resist.

  When later she arrived she swept in a breeze of black silk down the central aisle. The girls glanced sideways and saw that famous bun of black hair go speeding along towards the dais. A moment later Maria Black had mounted the four steps and then moved to the platform center, hands clasped in front of her, her compelling calm pervading the great room.

  Her age was fifty-five, but only the Board of Governors knew that. She stood as erect as a general surveying a conquest, the no longer graceful curves of her figure somewhat camouflaged by the sweeping dark gown she invariably wore, relieved only by the gold of a slender watch-chain. Those outside her jurisdiction would probably have considered her handsome. One got this impression from her long keen nose. Her lips were strong, but stopped short of being cruel. Indeed there were times when she had been known to smile. Chiefly though it was her eyes that always got their victim—frosty blue, unwavering.

  Had she allowed her hair to fall softly instead of scooping it back to scalping tension in an old-fashioned bun she could have possessed a mellow if rather aloof beauty.

  Suddenly she spoke—and perfectly, for diction was one of her strong points.

  “Young ladies, in two weeks you will depart for the summer vacation—but during those two weeks you will be under the control of Miss Tanby, who will become temporary Headmistress in my stead....”

  All eyes turned to Eunice Tanby—a calm, pale-faced, highly algebraical spinster who definitely knew how many times X could make rings round Y.

  “Therefore,” Maria resumed, “you will cease to regard Miss Tanby as Housemistress after today and will direct all matters of higher jurisdiction to her.”

  There was a respectful silence. Maria fingered her watch-chain and swept her eyes over the assembly.

  “I hope, young ladies, you will have an enjoyable vacation and will return here fully prepared for another term of work,” she said calmly. “You may dismiss....”

  Then, turning to Miss Tanby: “Miss Tanby, if you will be good enough to come with me.”

  The talking girls scattered immediately as Maria swept through their midst into the long, cool corridor outside the Hall. She entered her study and finally settled at her desk. Then interlocking her slender fingers she looked up at the pale-faced Housemistress who had followed her and nodded for the door to be closed.

  “Please sit down, Miss Tanby....” And as the order was obeyed Maria went on pensively, “I would like to explain to you a few necessary points regarding my immediate departure for the United States. You see, my late brother’s lawyer has summoned me. My brother died quite recently.”

  The Housemistress murmured a condolence and smiled in pale sympathy.

  “This lawyer,” Maria went on, “asks me to present myself at the earliest moment in order to clear up certain details of identity and so forth, hence my reason for leaving before the actual term end.... My brother, Miss Tanby, was no ordinary man. He—er—” Maria paused and smuggled disfavor behind a cough. “He was the first man to produce tinned broccoli.”

  “How remarkable!” Miss Tanby’s vocabulary could be devil­ishly limited at times.

  “I thought so too as first,” Maria admitted, then she got up and started to prowl the carpet. It seemed as though she was lining up her thoughts for action. Then after a long interval she spoke again.

  “My brother went to the United States at the time I became a junior teacher here. I have molded girls and he molded broccoli. The essential difference seems to be that he made a fortune whereas I— No matter! We are not here to discuss that. The fact remains that my brother is dead and there is a bequest to me which I must claim personally— But there is also something else!”

  As usual, as she sensed the dramatic abyss before her, Maria’s eyes took on a gleam. Miss Tanby saw no such possibility. As a matter of fact her mind was rather beclouded with thoughts of the rumpus, which must now be reigning in the class where she should be taking square roots.

  “My brother,” Maria resumed, with a grim tightening of the lips, “committed suicide. I tell you this because the details arc bound to leak out sooner or later into the Press, and if there should be any reflection upon me you will have the good sense to counteract it. You see, my brother was by far too important a man for the affair to be dismissed lightly. I repeat, he committed suicide. That was the official verdict. But my nephew thinks it was...murder!”

  “Good heavens!” Miss Tanby exclaimed, as though murder were quite commonplace.

  “It may only be a boy’s theory, for he is but twenty-five,” Maria mused; then realizing she was leaning too far on the maternal side she went on firmly, “But if he has the vaguest ground for his assertions I shall spend every second of my vacation getting to the bottom of the problem. Mysteries intrigue me, Miss Tanby—intrigue me immense­ly. Besides, I held my brother in high esteem for his purpose and energy, and if he did not die by his own hand—which I for my part cannot credit—then I consider it my duty to discover the real facts.”

  “But—but Miss Black, isn’t that a job for a detec
tive agency, or for the police?”

  Maria smiled. It was that rare transfiguration. And it was the special smile she kept pigeonholed for moments of surpassing triumph.

  “I have not devoted all my life to the teaching of girls, Miss Tanby. Observe to the right of my bookcase....” And the bun of hair jerked sideways.

  Miss Tanby looked, even her scholarly eyes dazzled by an array of titles she had never noticed before. She whispered them— “Crime and the Criminal, Brains and Passion, Alderman’s Theory of the Recessive Unit— Good heavens!” She looked at Maria in blank amazement. “I never even suspected—”

  “The skeleton in my educational cupboard,” Maria sighed, though it was clear she was reveling in the sensation she had sprung. “Frankly, I have quite a penchant for crime—in the right sense, you understand. I am fascinated—positively fascinated—by the hundred and one methods of committing a murder! My greatest interest is Van Furber’s treatise on forty-two different ways of producing stran­gulation. A most enlightening work, I assure you. Incidentally, I might remark here that I placed the Langhorn Cinema out of bounds for the girls because of the number of crime films they exhibit. I allowed the girls to have five local cinemas and kept the Langhorn for my especial patronage. I am—ah—not very well known there.

  “I have seen many interesting crime pictures. I find there is a snap in the American ‘racket’ picture that is most satisfying. Such is the sum total of my weakness, Miss Tanby. But it is a weak­ness which I can now perhaps really turn to account.”

  Tanby hurdled on the uptake. “In regard to your late brother, you mean?”

  “Exactly! I understand crime, crime’s methods, and criminals. I know a variety of angles that will give me the chance to experi­ment. I am aware from what I have seen of American films that methods over there are very different from ours—that a man in so big a position as my brother was, for instance, might have been the target for numberless enemies. I do not say,” Maria finished modestly, “that I should become a detective. But at least I could er—snoop!”