Vintage Murder
A touring theatre company in New Zealand forms the basis of one of Marsh’s most ambitious and innovative novelsNew Zealand theatrical manager Alfred Meyer is planning a surprise for his wife's birthday - a jeroboam of champagne descending gently onto the stage after the performance. But, as Roderick Alleyn witnesses, something goes horribly wrong. Is the death the product of Maori superstitions - or something more down to earth?
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NGAIO MARSH
VINTAGE MURDER
HARPER
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2009
Vintage Murder First published in Great Britain by Geoffrey Bles 1937
Copyright © Ngaio Marsh Ltd 1937
Ngaio Marsh asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of these works
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Source ISBN: 9780006512554
Ebook Edition © MAY 2013 ISBN: 9780007344420
Version: 2016-08-18
For Allan Wilkie andFrediswyde Hunter-WattsIn memory of a tour in New Zealand
CONTENTS
4. First Appearance of the Tiki
6. Second Appearance of the Tiki
9. Courtney Broadheadâs Scene
11. St John Ackroyd and Susan Max
12. Liversidge Fluffs his Lines
14. Variation on a Police Whistle
15. Six a.m. First Act Curtain
20. Exit Liversidge. Enter Bob Parsons (whistling)
22. Fourth Appearance of the Tiki
(in the order of their appearance)
| Roderick Alleyn | Of the CriminalInvestigationDepartment,Scotland Yard | ||
| Susan MaxHailey Hambledon Courtney Broadhead St John Ackroyd Carolyn Dacres Alfred Meyer Valerie Gaynes George Mason Ted Gascoigne Francis Liversidge Brandon Vernon |  | Of the Carolyn Dacres Comedy Company | Character WomanLeading ManSecond JuvenileComedianLeading LadyHer husband:Proprietor andManaging Directorof IncorporatedPlayhouses LtdA BeginnerMeyerâs partner:Business Manager,IncorporatedPlayhouses LtdStage ManagerFirst JuvenileCharacter Man |
| FredBert |  | Of theStage Staff | Head MechanistStage-hand |
| Bob ParsonsGordon Palmer Geoffrey Weston Dr Rangi Te Pokiha | A dresserA bear-cubHis LeaderA Maori physician | ||
| Detective-Sergeant Wade |  | ||
| Detective-Inspector PackerDetective-Sergeant Cass Superintendent Nixon | Of the New ZealandPolice Force | ||
| Singleton | Stage door keeperat the Royal |
Although I agree with those critics who condemn the building of imaginary towns in actual countries I must confess that there is no Middleton in the North Island of New Zealand, nor is âMiddletonâ a pseudonym for any actual city. The largest town in New Zealand is no bigger than, let us say, Southampton. If I had taken the Dacres Comedy Company to Auckland or Wellington, Messrs Wade, Packer, and Cass, to say nothing of Dr Rangi Te Pokiha, might have been mistaken for portraits or caricatures of actual persons. By building Middleton in the open country somewhere south of Ohakune, I avoid this possibility, and, with a clear conscience, can make the usual statement that:
All the characters in this story are purely imaginary and bear no relation to any actual person.
The clop and roar of the train was an uneasy element somewhere at the back of the tall manâs dreams. It would die away â die away and fantastic hurrying faces come up to claim his attention. He would think âI am sure I am asleep. This is certainly a dream.â Then came a jolt as they roared, with a sudden increase of racket, over a bridge and through a cutting. The fantastic faces disappeared. He was cold and stiff. For the hundredth time he opened his eyes to see the dim carriage-lamps and the rows of faces with their murky high-lights and cadaverous shadows.
âStrange company Iâve got into,â he thought.
Opposite him was the leading man, large, kindly, swaying slightly with the movement of the long narrow-gauge carriage, politely resigned to discomfort. The bundle of rugs in the next seat to the tall man was Miss Susan Max, the character woman. An old trouper, Susan, with years of jolting night journeys behind her, first in this country, then Australia, and then up and down the provinces in England, until finally she made a comfortable niche for herself with Incorporated Playhouses in the West End. Twenty years ago she had joined an English touring company in Wellington. Now, for the first time, she revisited New Zealand. She stared, with unblinking eyes, at the dim reflections in the window-pane. The opposite seat to Susanâs was empty. In the next block George Mason, the manager, a dyspeptic, resigned-looking man, played an endless game of two-handed whist with Ted Gascoigne, the stage-manager.
