Whose Body?
3.5/5
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About this ebook
Dorothy L. Sayers
Dorothy L. Sayers (1893–1957) was a British playwright, scholar, and acclaimed author of mysteries, best known for her books starring the gentleman sleuth Lord Peter Wimsey. While working as an advertising copywriter, Sayers began writing Whose Body? (1923), the first Wimsey mystery, followed by ten sequels and several short stories. Sayers set the Wimsey novels between the two World Wars, giving them a realistic tone by incorporating details from contemporary issues such as advertising, women’s education, and veterans’ health. Sayers also wrote theological essays and criticism during and after World War II, and in 1949 published the first volume of a translation of Dante’s Divine Comedy. Although she considered this translation to be her best work, it is for her elegantly constructed detective fiction that Sayers remains best remembered.
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Reviews for Whose Body?
1,327 ratings72 reviews
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The first of the Lord Peter Wimsey novels and one which starts the series on a high. Wimsey is confronted with two seemingly baffling mysteries which he, of course, solves in his usual inimitable style. What I particularly liked about this novel is how clearly the Wimsey's relationships with his friends and family are defined, his strained relationship with his brother and his closeness to his mother, his friendship with Parker and last, but not least, the wonderous Bunter whose talents and capabilities seem to have no limit.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5In this first Lord Peter Wimsey mystery, his mother interests him in a case in which a corpse is found in a man's bathtub. Then his friend Detective Parker of Scotland Yard seeks his assistance in locating a missing man. Although Inspector Sugg suggested the man in the tub and Levy were one and the same, Detective Parker and Lord Peter knew evidence suggested otherwise. While the book is well-plotted, the writing style takes a while to engage the reader. I listened to the version read by Nadia May, a pseudonym for Wanda McCaddon. She read a bit more rapidly in places than the ideal speed.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The second Lord Peter Wimsey novel is thoughtful, affectionate and at times humorous in its depiction of Lord Peter and his fellows. A more rounded and appealing protagonist than most. Quite enjoyable read.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I suspect I judged Whose Body? differently, after studying Victorian crime fiction - my expectations of a murder mystery have altered and the lack of main female characters and any romantic subplottheir absence did not bother me at all. The plot is intriguing - Lord Peter is looking into the case of a man who has been found dead in a bathtub wearing nothing but a pince-nez, and his friend Parker (who is a professional Scotland Yard detective) is looking for a missing business man. They swap notes - swap aspects of their investigations, even, and Peter begins to feel that the two are connected. Certain discoveries were unsurprising, and aspects about the ending weren't completely satisfactory. However, the mystery progressed quickly and it is told in such an interesting and entertaining manner that it does not really matter. Peter is a unemployed, unattached aristocrat who is amused by the intellectual challenge his hobby of investigating crimes provides - but not so much by the implications that involves catching a man who will invariably hanged. He is confident, quick-witted and sociable, with an entertaining manner of speech. His conversations with Parker and his interactions with his manservant are quite amusing. I have managed to read the first Lord Peter Wimsey practically last, and was interested to observe Peter is portrayed as a much younger man - as he should be; Whose Body? was written (and set) over a decade before Gaudy Night*. It is interesting to see the sort of person he was; he was both more flippant and more serious than I expected him to be. I was interested that the story included information about his shell-shock and how it affects him - it makes him more human and likable, somehow.Peter's mother, the Dowager Duchess, makes more than one appearance and is delightfully charming and verbose. Other points of interest include an interview with a medical student which is mostly written in the second person ("you" being the slightly bewildered doctor-to-be), an inquest, a detective called Sugg who embodies the "stupid police stereotype" and gets in Lord Peter's way, and the historical context - the mannerisms and social mores of the times.I liked it a lot. It's not Gaudy Night, but it isn't trying to be. It's an entertaining mystery, and while it manages to hold up better on the "entertaining" rather than the "mystery" side of things, I see no reason to hold that against it.* One of the last Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries, and one of my very favourite books.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Parts of this mystery are quick enjoyable - Lord Peter can be amusing, I quite liked his mother, and the mystery began as a promising puzzle. However, the puzzle quickly resolved itself and the final chapter where everthing is explained was a little too long. Would like to try another and see if the mysteries get better.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This is the first mystery that I figured out the killer and the method of body disposal before the end. Though the author was pretty explicit by then.Good book.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5BBC Radio 4 full cast dramatisation, on two CDs, with Ian Carmichael as Lord Peter Wimsey.The first Lord Peter Wimsey book, dramatised for radio in 1973 in five half hour episodes. It's a superb dramatisation, with a wonderful cast, and while it does of necessity leave out some of the book, it captures the story and the characterisation very well. I think you would enjoy this even if you haven't read the book, but if you like the books, this is a wonderful adaptation. Very much recommended if you're a Sayers fan, particularly if you're a fan of Ian Carmichael as Wimsey.The cast also includes a fair bit of interest for fans of 1970s and 1980s cult TV. Amongst others, there's Peter Jones, Gabriel Woolf, and Peter Tuddenham.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Very happy to discover Dorothy L. Sayers, a true master of classic cozy mystery.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Lord Peter helps the police solve the murder of a dead body (wearing only a pince-nez) in the bathtub of an architect friend of his mother's. Silly, bored aristocracy humor of the time.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5This is the first Lord Peter Wimsey book it was pretty good ,not as good as I was expecting but still good .I will be reading more of this series as I've heard they do get much better.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5One of the best first lines ever. "Oh damn". It begins as a bit of a farce, but by the end of the book, things are very sober indeed. A great study on the debate, Do we have the right to take another man's life? Do we have the capability to assign value, high or low to another's life? A great story.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I've been reading a lot of fantasy lately, and decided to try something different for a change. I asked around for recommendations of some classic mystery, and Dorothy L. Sayers was suggested to me. Hence Whose Body? was my first exposure to Lord Peter Wimsey.Anyway, the book starts out with a naked dead body found in a bathtub. You just know there's going to be a good story there.My first observation was that this book was written in the early 1920s, and it really showed in the writing as well as in the language and mannerisms of her characters. Dorothy L. Sayers is in no way a bad writer, but I couldn't help but notice some very awkward sections where the author attempts to tell the story from another point of view in the form of letters, and you just gotta think to yourself, Surely no one ever speaks or writes like that!Still, I took it all in stride, and didn't even mind too much the overly verbose nature of Lord Peter Wimsey. Having mistakenly thought he would be a stuffy old lord, what I didn't expect was his dry sense of humor ("Well, if he only murdered me you could still hang him--what's the good of wasting a sound, marriageable young male like yourself?") and I liked him right away.I later realized that Whose Body? was not only the first Lord Peter Wimsey book, but also Sayers' first detective novel. It is no wonder that I found some of the "mystery" aspects of the story amateurish. I guessed who the murderer was very early on, and later his explanation didn't even really make a lot of sense to me. In a few sections, I felt the author was a bit unsure of which direction to take, and some of the clues and explanations came through feeling a tad forced. Like one reviewer said, at times the novel felt like a parody of a detective story, complete with a few satirical touches.I am not going to judge the rest of the Wimsey books by this one alone, however, as I know how "rough" first novels usually are, and no doubt Sayers goes on to polish her writing because of how successful her detective works became. Furthermore, even though Whose Body? didn't really do it for me as a mystery, as a novel I found it to be a very pleasant and fun read.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The very first Lord Peter Wimsey novel, and a fabulous start to the series. Stands up well as a re-read, and is by turns, light, serious, funny and poignant. A very good introduction to the characters, as well as a most enjoyable story.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I must admit that my familiarity with Lord Peter Wimsey began with the Masterpiece Theater series of mysteries featuring the character, although I didn't watch them all that much. I think I was too young at the time to really appreciate him. Later I read Gaudy Night and fell in love with him and with the book. It's a novel not quite like anything else, a truly intellectual romance, an exploration of cloistered academic life, and a mystery tied up into a beautiful homage to Oxford and the possibility of returning home. After that I read Busman's Holiday, but never any of the real mysteries - those without Harriet Vane.Whose Body? is Sayers' first installment in the Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries. In it we are introduced to the characters who will recur throughout the books - in particular, Lord Peter and his man - Bunter. I know lots of people consider Jeeves from PG Wodehouse's books to be the quintessential butler, but for me it's Bunter. Bunter was Lord Peter's batman during the Great War. Bunter saved Lord Peter's life during the war and their partnership continues after the war. Bunter is the butler's butler - a man filled with dignity, grace, and impeccable taste. He is a talented photographer and forensic scientist and becomes Lord Peter's partner in crimesolving throughout the books.Whose Body? is a closed room myster - a naked, unidentified man found in a bath wearing a pair of golden pince nez. Sayers takes this very simple premise and expands it into an entertaining and turntwisting whodunit. A wonderful read and a taste of what was to come.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This is the first of the Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries. Lord Peter is a moneyed gentleman about town who enjoys dabbling in mysteries but also occasionally suffers bouts of ‘nerve exhaustion’ from fighting in WWI.In this first installment, a gentleman wakes up to find an unknown, thoroughly naked dead body in his bathtub. Lord Wimsey takes on finding the how, why and who. He is aided by his friend, Detective Parker of Scotland Yard who is coincidentally missing an esteemed Jewish financier – and although the easy solution, embraced by the bungling Inspector Sugg, is that the two are the same, Wimsey soon proves this wrong, but continues to search for a connection in the cases.We also meet Wimsey’s amazingly competent valet Bunter, who along with Wimsey’s mother, are excellent minor characters.It took me a while to engage with the plot, but the characters drew me in.I’ll be back for more.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5I wasn't too impressed and found this to be rather boring.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5In his first novel, Lord Peter Wimsey is called on to solve the mystery of a corpse found in the bathtub of a middle-class couple's apartment. The man was a stranger to the homeowners. The police are also investigating the disappearance of financier Sir Reuben Levy. If the man in the bath was Sir Reuben, that would tie both cases together. Wimsey can see that it's not going to be that easy...This is one of the classics from the Golden Age of mystery. The plot and solution are clever, but it relies too much on the confession/disclosure of the murderer. It's been years since I read any of the Wimsey novels, and I had either forgotten or overlooked the first time around that Wimsey suffered from post-traumatic stress from his World War I service.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Ah! I'd forgotten just how very much I enjoyed these books. I think everyone should reread a book they haven't read in ages once in a while. Whose Body is the opener of the Lord Peter Wimsey series, written by Dorothy Sayers. Since this is the introduction to this famous detective, we get to learn a lot about him right away. He has a personal servant named Bunter who is helpful as a sleuth by talking to others who are servants and of course, know the comings and goings of their employers. Wimsey also collects works by Dante; a marvelous touch by Sayers since she is an esteemed Dante scholar. Lord Peter had a bad experience in WWI; he suffers periodically from what we now call post-traumatic stress syndrome and what was called in 1923 (the date of writing of this novel) shell shock, which is triggered by certain noises & certain conditions. Lord Peter is not a member of House of Lords; that is reserved for his brother, the Duke of Denver. And finally, I have seen much made of the racist remarks in this book; if you would just please try to put yourself in the mindset of the 1920s, you'll realize that these were perfectly acceptable for their time. If you can't get past that, you're missing a good and fun story.In this first case of Lord Peter's, a body turns up naked in a bathtub wearing only a pair of glasses. At the same time, a businessman goes missing -- are the body and businessman the same person? And who killed the man in the tub and why? Lord Peter puts himself in jeopardy to find out the answers to these questions. Very fun first novel; very British and just a good read. I rarely rate a series opener so high, but this one deserves it.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Very fun! The mystery was fairly obvious, but it was an enjoyable romp to see it through. Lord Peter has the makings of a quite interesting character: easily bored, a bit of a dilettante, sufferer of PTSD from the great war, enormously charismatic. I chortled at all of the little meta-touches on the conventions of detective fiction; my favourite of which was a round-about questioning of a witness, disguised as a conversation/complaint about how witnesses in detective stories always remember everything perfectly. Delightful! I hadn't even finished before I got my hands on the next several in the series--something I rarely do, a highest compliment.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5I was honestly disappointed in this book and in Sayers' writing. I had heard rave reviews about her books and how Dorothy L. Sayers was "another Agatha Christie". However, Sayers strayed from the storyline and left holes in the plot. There were so many added pages that it was almost confusing. Unlike Hercule Poirot, and other characters of Christie's, Lord Peter Whimsey was not a character that you could immediately like or feel friendly with.
The mystery itself was interesting, if only the story could have kept my attention.... - Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5I had high hopes for this one, because I love British murder mystery series, and I was hoping to find a new one to enjoy. Honestly, though, I was a bit underwhelmed. The mystery was clever enough, but hard to get close to. I just didn't care that much about it, it seemed more an academic problem. This was probably largely due to the character of Lord Peter Wimsey, who seemed to treat the mystery as pretty much the same as buying books for his collection--something to pass the time, and only worthy of doing to the extent that he finds it interesting or unusual. True, most people do choose their hobbies that way, but there is something a bit off-putting about someone who judges a murder for it's oddity level before deciding to investigate, especially when he is called on by someone who is counting on him for help out of a tight spot. One gets the impression that if Mr. Thipps had called to ask for help because his maid had been murdered, and Lord Peter had showed up and determined that it was just a boring domestic crime, he would have been happy to let Mr. Thipps rot in jail whether he had committed the crime or not.Still, this is a first novel, and I have hopes that the series will get better. I will probably continue reading, but I think I will look for later books in the library rather than purchasing them.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Delightful to rediscover Lord Peter Wimsey. This was a surprisingly grisly murder, once all was said and done, but not too much for my delicate sensibilities, thank goodness. Although I can recall have a marked preference for the novels which Harriet Vane appeared in, this was an awfully fun read, it went very quickly, all the characters seemed delightfully differentiated, and I'm so pleased to get to read them all again.
(Note: 5 stars = amazing, wonderful, 4 = very good book, 3 = decent read, 2 = disappointing, 1 = awful, just awful. I'm fairly good at picking for myself so end up with a lot of 4s). - Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The Lord Peter Wimsey murder mystery series starts with this book. A body is found in a bathtub with nothing on but pince-nez glasses. Starting with very little information, Wimsey tackles the case from the sidelines. If Bertie Wooster was a detective he would be Lord Peter Wimsey. His is a gentleman and is inspired by Sherlock Holmes. The case is mildly interesting, but not enough to be a page turner. I was surprisingly bored throughout the book. There were a few parts I really liked, including one section where Wimsey is questioning a witness. The witness scoffs at the amount of detail people seem to remember in detective novels. No one remembers so much, he says! Then Wimsey walks him through a line of questions that help him remember exactly what he was doing on the night in question. BOTTOM LINE: I wasn’t too impressed, but I will continue to read the series because I’ve heard it gets really good once the character of Harriet Vane is introduced in Strong Poison. “Well, it’s no good jumping at conclusions.” “Jump? You don’t even crawl distantly within sight of a conclusion.”
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I was looking forward to my first sampling of Dorothy L. Sayers. Whose Body?, the first book in her Lord Peter Wimsey series was published in 1923 and this series went on to establish her as on of the greatest mystery writers of her time. The book started off well with the discovery of a unknown naked man in a bathtub, at the same time a well known financier went suddenly missing, could these two cases be connected?I had a little trouble warming to Lord Peter Wimsey, at first I found him to be very brittle and supercilious. Then at the end of Chapter 8 an event happens which explained a lot about the inner workings of this man.However, I totally fell in love with his admirable valet/sidekick Bunter. How I would love to have such a competent, caring man overseeing every detail of my life! The other character introduced in this book that is worth her weight in gold is Wimsey’s mother, the Dowager Duchess.I found this book an enjoyable read, the mystery was good, although I did figure it out quickly. I enjoyed the setting of 1920’s London and the glimpses of fashion, food and pastimes. The characters are interesting and I am looking forward to seeing what they get up to in future books.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5This is the first of Dorothy L. Sayers's mysteries to feature Lord Peter Wimsey. The bored aristocrat has, apparently, no love interests to occupy his time and is in desperate need for a hobby, so he turns to crime-solving. Encouraged by his mother (who heartily approves of her son's new pursuit), aided by Parker (a loyal and observant police-officer) and assisted by his talented butler Bunter (Superman), Lord Peter will attempt to unveil the mystery of an unidentified man found naked in a bathtub, wearing a pince-nez and looking very dead. Only, the same night the man's body was found, someone else decided to go missing as well. Someone who wore a physical resemblance to the victim. Coincidence? One-and-the-same person? Two cases to be solved - or just one?At first my only impression of the Lord Peter & Bunter team was that D.L.Sayers just plain stole them from a very popular Wodehousian series: the "-what?" that Lord Peter often adds to finish off his sentences and Bunter's concern for his master's appearance ("not those trousers sir!") ring way too many loud and annoying bells to anyone who has ever read any Wooster and Jeeves stories. Thankfully, as the plot thickens and the question of whether the two cases are related or not grows more persistent you're allowed to forget for a while about the not-particularly-great-or-original characters. The mystery is resolved neatly enough - no loose ends - but not particularly dramatically or satisfactorily either. This is only the author's first book, to be sure, and I've heard the series gets better; but I still wasn't sure whether I would continue with it or not until I read something that was only included in subsequent re-issues of the book: "a short biography of Lord Peter Wimsey...communicated by his uncle Paul Austin Delagardie." The uncle's letter informs us about Peter's years at college, about his service during the difficult years of war and about the disappointments he has suffered in his personal life. All in all, this "short biography" makes Lord P. Wimsey transcend the stereotype of the idle and rich Englishman and brings him a little closer to being a real flesh-and-bones (and-heartbreaks-and-toilet-needs- and-other-such-trivial-things) character. I think it is an indispensable part of the novel and one that managed to make up my mind about reading the rest of the series. It boils down to this: if, as it is foreshadowed by this late addition to the book, D.L.Sayers will find it worth her time to expand upon the character of her detective-hero and transform him into a real person then I don't want to miss reading all about it.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Having just finished reading the first Lord Peter Wimsey novel „Whose Body?“ by Dorothy L. Sayers, I reached a first cornerstone of my literature journey through the beginnings and the Golden Age of crime fiction: Hoffmann’s Fräulein von Scudery, Poe’s Dupin, Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes, Christie’s Poirot and Marple, Allingham’s Campion, Marsh’s Alleyn and finally Sayer’s Wimsey. With those I think I created a good basis for further reading and deepening the subject. The next classic detective fiction novels will be by Collins and Van Dine (starting to look over the pond a little bit) together with other novels by the listed authors as well as modern classic detective fiction writers such as Penny or James. I’m highly curious where this journey will lead me to.Back to Whose Body? The plot is classically: there was a murder and now the culprit has to be found. Only this time nobody knows who actually got murdered for nobody knows who the dead peron is that’s found naked in the bath tub of the worker Mr. Thipps.Informed by his mother, Lord Peter Wimsey, his funny and never resting servant Bunter and Wimsey’s friend and Scotland Yard inspector Parker have to dig deep for clues revealing a dark and ingenious plot at the end by establishing the missing link between one of Parker’s cases and the case of the dead body in Thipps’ bathtub.In creating the characters of Wimsey and Bunter Sayers showed her craftsmanship to produce remarkable persons with highly individual characteristics. Especially Wimsey with his loose tounge and his sharp intellect is always a pleasure to follow through his dialogs and deductions. Maybe Wimsey is a bit to unprepossessing at times and Bunter could have been a little bit more Wimsey’s sidekick than Parker. But I don’t think that this bears anything negative to the novel. The plot and its turns, Sayers highly variable language and her skill creating atmospheres (and not just dialogs) is just striking (I highly advice you to read chapter XII twice just for the greatness of it). This said I start to understand why Christie, Marsh and Sayers are called the queens of British detective fiction (although I hope the next Campion novels by Allington will turn out better than the really bad first Campion mystery, so I can rightfully include Allingham in the list as well). But for now I just know that I’ll keep on reading this Wimsey series for damn sure.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A very good opening to the series, with a naked male body appearing in a respectable architect' bath, and a distinguished Jewish financier vanishing. As it turns out, they are not the same man, but there is a connection.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Having read several later Wimseys over the past few months, I thought it time to return to the beginning. This is the first Wimsey mystery, but Lord Peter hits the ground running – or at least at an athletic but gentlemanly sprint – as a fully-formed character, replete with all his quirks and mannerisms (some may say too many, but I am not one of their number), and his supporting cast of characters: Bunter, Chief Inspector Parker, the Dowager Duchess, Freddy Arbuthnot are all present and correct.We first meet Peter en route to a sale of antiquarian books, from which he is derailed by news of a body being found in the bath of a respectable tradesman known to the Dowager Duchess. (Bunter represents Peter at the sale and manages to save him money by acquiring one of the books at less than Peter’s reserve price, money which Peter delightedly regards as a bonus and buys Bunter a piece of camera equipment on the strength of it.) Whilst visiting the body, which is singularly lacking in identifying features, Wimsey runs into Parker, who has come to check whether, by any chance, it might be Sir Reuben Levy, a middle-aged financier who has disappeared from his home. It isn’t, but the two men are similar in many ways – and thereby hangs a diabolical and convoluted plot, which Wimsey unravels with the panache which we shall come to expect of him.It is important to read Sayers, or any writer of the past, with a mind to the period in which they were writing. The odd thing about this book, for its time, is not its anti-Semitism – Sir Reuben and the other victim being both Jewish – but its relative lack thereof; both characters are treated with sympathy. One does find the occasional rather wince-making word or turn of phrase in the books, though, and one must either accept them as a product of the times or not read the books at all. We glimpse Peter’s darker side in this book, as the case affects his shell-shocked nerves to the point where he suffers from battlefield flashbacks. Luckily a pyjama-clad Bunter is at hand to provide reassurance, a bromide, and a mutter of “Bloody little fool!” that he would surely never allow himself in anything less than the uttermost privacy.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Rereading Sayers’ first Wimsey book, Whose Body? reminding this reviewer why it was they had so loved this genre of story. Sayers’ writing style is unobtrusively good. One is seldom consciously aware of the fact that the author has managed to draw deep and nuanced word portraits in a few sentences. Words are used carefully yet the author seldom makes a point of her erudition save for her choice not to translate the portions of a conversation that take place in French.Although the method by which the murderer carried out his plans strains credulity Sayers does not resort to the all too common plot device of a massive international criminal conspiracy that one encounters among so many of English mystery writers of this time. This murderer’s motivations are almost mundane in comparison to those found in many of the author’s contemporaries. A number of things stand out to this reader.First, there is a base level of anti-Semitism in the Britain of the 1920s that may take a modern reader aback. People are described as “Hebrew” as if that was an identifier no different from “blond.” And many of the characters in this book are clearly prejudiced against Jews. Yet Sir Reuben Levy, the “self-made” and wealthy Jew around whose disappearance much of the book revolves, is not characterized as miserly or money-grubbing. Yes, he holds to the personal economies that helped him become a very wealthy man but he is also shown to be extremely generous to his wife and daughter. His marriage is portrayed as happy and sound and his wife, who braved criticism when she chose to marry a Jew is shown as having never had a reason to regret that decision.Second, near the end of this book there is a short and stunningly effective depiction of PTSD. It was at that time known as shell-shock but there can be no question that that is what Lord Peter is victim of. This PTSD functions as the reason why he sometimes withdraws in apparent fatuity. As a man who knows that deep emotions may trigger flashbacks he uses a variety of techniques to dampen down those emotions at moments of stress. This grounds Wimsey’s behaviour, and the acceptance of that behaviour on the part of those around him, not in his “class” or the fashion of his social circle but in their knowledge that he has, in a sense, earned the right to sometimes withdraw both intellectually and emotionally.Third, Sayers treats her non-aristocratic characters as intelligent and rational people. One understands why Lord Peter would find Mr. Parker an enjoyable person to dine with. Parker himself is well-educated and is shown to read books that are as intellectually challenging as those that interest Wimsey. Indeed, when he and Lord Peter discuss the morality and rationale of detective work and law on a serious level it is often Parker who seems to make the better argument.Bunter, is another character who, written by a lesser author, could easily fall into caricature rather than characterization. Bunter does not drop letters from his speech and fall back on cant and argot. He, it is pointed out in the text, has been educated well. And the last line in the “shell-shock” scene makes it clear that what ties Bunter to Wimsey is not loyalty based on a class relationship but the loyalty that is forged by shared experiences in combat and physical deprivation.Whose Body? is not the “perfect” mystery novel the plot is over complicated and the denouement under impressive. This is, however, an impressive first outing for a detective, and a cast of characters, whose motivations and psychologies are better drawn in a scant few hundred pages than other authors can achieve after several books.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/51st outing for amateur sleuth Lord Peter Wimsey. Enjoyable although dated and interesting twist by addition of 1st world war shell shock to Wimsey.
Book preview
Whose Body? - Dorothy L. Sayers
Chapter I
Oh, damn!
said Lord Peter Wimsey at Piccadilly Circus. Hi, driver!
The taxi man, irritated at receiving this appeal while negotiating the intricacies of turning into Lower Regent Street across the route of a 19 ’bus, a 38-b and a bicycle, bent an unwilling ear.
I’ve left the catalogue behind,
said Lord Peter deprecatingly, uncommonly careless of me. D’you mind puttin’ back to where we came from?
To the Savile Club, sir?
No—110 Piccadilly—just beyond—thank you.
Thought you was in a hurry,
said the man, overcome with a sense of injury.
I’m afraid it’s an awkward place to turn in,
said Lord Peter, answering the thought rather than the words. His long, amiable face looked as if it had generated spontaneously from his top hat, as white maggots breed from Gorgonzola.
The taxi, under the severe eye of a policeman, revolved by slow jerks with a noise like the grinding of teeth.
The block of new, perfect and expensive flats in which Lord Peter dwelt upon the second floor, stood directly opposite the Green Park, in a spot for many years occupied by the skeleton of a frustrate commercial enterprise. As Lord Peter let himself in he heard his man’s voice in the library, uplifted in that throttled stridency peculiar to well-trained persons using the telephone.
I believe that’s his lordship just coming in again—if your Grace would kindly hold the line a moment.
What is it, Bunter?
Her Grace has just called up from Denver, my lord. I was just saying your lordship had gone to the sale when I heard your lordship’s latchkey.
Thanks,
said Lord Peter; and you might find me my catalogue, would you? I think I must have left it in my bedroom, or on the desk.
He sat down to the telephone with an air of leisurely courtesy, as though it were an acquaintance dropped in for a chat.
Hullo, Mother—that you?
Oh, there you are, dear,
replied the voice of the Dowager Duchess. I was afraid I’d just missed you.
Well, you had, as a matter of fact. I’d just started off to Brocklebury’s sale to pick up a book or two, but I had to come back for the catalogue. What’s up?
Such a quaint thing,
said the Duchess. I thought I’d tell you. You know little Mr. Thipps?
Thipps?
said Lord Peter. Thipps? Oh, yes, the little architect man who’s doing the church roof. Yes. What about him?
Mrs. Throgmorton’s just been in, in quite a state of mind.
Sorry, Mother, I can’t hear. Mrs. Who?
Throgmorton—Throgmorton—the vicar’s wife.
Oh, Throgmorton, yes?
Mr. Thipps rang them up this morning. It was his day to come down, you know.
Yes?
He rang them up to say he couldn’t. He was so upset, poor little man. He’d found a dead body in his bath.
Sorry, Mother, I can’t hear; found what, where?
A dead body, dear, in his bath.
What?—no, no, we haven’t finished. Please don’t cut us off. Hullo! Hullo! Is that you, Mother? Hullo!—Mother!—Oh yes—sorry, the girl was trying to cut us off. What sort of body?
A dead man, dear, with nothing on but a pair of pince-nez. Mrs. Throgmorton positively blushed when she was telling me. I’m afraid people do get a little narrow-minded in country vicarages.
Well, it sounds a bit unusual. Was it anybody he knew?
No, dear, I don’t think so, but, of course, he couldn’t give her many details. She said he sounded quite distracted. He’s such a respectable little man—and having the police in the house, and so on, really worried him.
Poor little Thipps! Uncommonly awkward for him. Let’s see, he lives in Battersea, doesn’t he?
Yes, dear; 59 Queen Caroline Mansions; opposite the Park. That big block just round the corner from the Hospital. I thought perhaps you’d like to run round and see him and ask if there’s anything we can do. I always thought him a nice little man.
Oh, quite,
said Lord Peter, grinning at the telephone. The Duchess was always of the greatest assistance to his hobby of criminal investigation, though she never alluded to it, and maintained a polite fiction of its non-existence.
What time did it happen, Mother?
I think he found it early this morning, but, of course, he didn’t think of telling the Throgmortons just at first. She came up to me just before lunch—so tiresome, I had to ask her to stay. Fortunately, I was alone. I don’t mind being bored myself, but I hate having my guests bored.
Poor old Mother! Well, thanks awfully for tellin’ me. I think I’ll send Bunter to the sale and toddle round to Battersea now an’ try and console the poor little beast. So-long.
Good-bye, dear.
Bunter!
Yes, my lord.
Her Grace tells me that a respectable Battersea architect has discovered a dead man in his bath.
Indeed, my lord? That’s very gratifying.
Very, Bunter. Your choice of words is unerring. I wish Eton and Balliol had done as much for me. Have you found the catalogue?
Here it is, my lord.
"Thanks. I am going to Battersea at once. I want you to attend the sale for me. Don’t lose time—I don’t want to miss the Folio Dante{1} nor the de Voragine—here you are—see? ‘Golden Legend’—Wynkyn de Worde, 1493—got that?—and, I say, make a special effort for the Caxton folio of the ‘Four Sons of Aymon’—it’s the 1489 folio and unique. Look! I’ve marked the lots I want, and put my outside offer against each. Do your best for me. I shall be back to dinner."
Very good, my lord.
Take my cab and tell him to hurry. He may for you; he doesn’t like me very much. Can I,
said Lord Peter, looking at himself in the eighteenth-century mirror over the mantelpiece, "can I have the heart to fluster the flustered Thipps further—that’s very difficult to say quickly—by appearing in a top-hat and frock-coat? I think not. Ten to one he will overlook my trousers and mistake me for the undertaker. A grey suit, I fancy, neat but not gaudy, with a hat to tone suits my other self better. Exit the amateur of first editions; new motive introduced by solo bassoon; enter Sherlock Holmes, disguised as a walking gentleman. There goes Bunter. Invaluable fellow—never offers to do his job when you’ve told him to do somethin’ else. Hope he doesn’t miss the Four Sons of Aymon. Still, there is another copy of that—in the Vatican.{2} It might become available, you never know—if the Church of Rome went to pot or Switzerland invaded Italy—whereas a strange corpse doesn’t turn up in a suburban bathroom more than once in a lifetime—at least, I should think not—at any rate, the number of times it’s happened, with a pince-nez, might be counted on the fingers of one hand, I imagine. Dear me! it’s a dreadful mistake to ride two hobbies at once."
He had drifted across the passage into his bedroom, and was changing with a rapidity one might not have expected from a man of his mannerisms. He selected a dark-green tie to match his socks and tied it accurately without hesitation or the slightest compression of his lips; substituted a pair of brown shoes for his black ones, slipped a monocle into a breast pocket, and took up a beautiful Malacca walking-stick with a heavy silver knob.
That’s all, I think,
he murmured to himself. Stay—I may as well have you—you may come in useful—one never knows.
He added a flat silver matchbox to his equipment, glanced at his watch, and seeing that it was already a quarter to three, ran briskly downstairs, and, hailing a taxi, was carried to Battersea Park.
Mr. Alfred Thipps was a small, nervous man, whose flaxen hair was beginning to abandon the unequal struggle with destiny. One might say that his only really marked feature was a large bruise over the left eyebrows which gave him a faintly dissipated air incongruous with the rest of his appearance. Almost in the same breath with his first greeting, he made a self-conscious apology for it, murmuring something about having run against the dining-room door in the dark. He was touched almost to tears by Lord Peter’s thoughtfulness and condescension in calling.
I’m sure it’s most kind of your lordship,
he repeated for the dozenth time, rapidly blinking his weak little eyelids. I appreciate it very deeply, very deeply, indeed, and so would Mother, only she’s so deaf, I don’t like to trouble you with making her understand. It’s been very hard all day,
he added, with the policemen in the house and all this commotion. It’s what Mother and me have never been used to, always living very retired, and it’s most distressing to a man of regular habits, my lord, and reely, I’m almost thankful Mother doesn’t understand, for I’m sure it would worry her terribly if she was to know about it. She was upset at first, but she’s made up some idea of her own about it now, and I’m sure it’s all for the best.
The old lady who sat knitting by the fire nodded grimly in response to a look from her son.
I always said as you ought to complain about that bath, Alfred,
she said suddenly, in the high, piping voice peculiar to the deaf, and it’s to be ’oped the landlord’ll see about it now; not but what I think you might have managed without having the police in, but there! you always were one to make a fuss about a little thing, from chicken-pox up.
There now,
said Mr. Thipps apologetically, you see how it is. Not but what it’s just as well she’s settled on that, because she understands we’ve locked up the bathroom and don’t try to go in there. But it’s been a terrible shock to me, sir—my lord, I should say, but there! my nerves are all to pieces. Such a thing has never ’appened—happened to me in all my born days. Such a state I was in this morning—I didn’t know if I was on my head or my heels—I reely didn’t, and my heart not being too strong, I hardly knew how to get out of that horrid room and telephone for the police. It’s affected me, sir, it’s affected me, it reely has—I couldn’t touch a bit of breakfast, nor lunch neither, and what with telephoning and putting off clients and interviewing people all morning, I’ve hardly known what to do with myself.
I’m sure it must have been uncommonly distressin’,
said Lord Peter, sympathetically, especially comin’ like that before breakfast. Hate anything tiresome happenin’ before breakfast. Takes a man at such a confounded disadvantage, what?
That’s just it, that’s just it,
said Mr. Thipps, eagerly, "when I saw that dreadful thing lying there in my bath, mother-naked, too, except for a pair of eyeglasses, I assure you, my lord, it regularly turned my stomach, if you’ll excuse the expression. I’m not very strong, sir, and I get that sinking feeling sometimes in the morning, and what with one thing and another I ’ad—had to send the girl for a stiff brandy, or I don’t know what mightn’t have happened. I felt so queer, though I’m anything but partial to spirits as a rule. Still, I make it a rule never to be without brandy, in the house, in case of emergency, you know?"
Very wise of you,
said Lord Peter, cheerfully, you’re a very far-seein’ man, Mr. Thipps. Wonderful what a little nip’ll do in case of need, and the less you’re used to it the more good it does you. Hope your girl is a sensible young woman, what? Nuisance to have women faintin’ and shriekin’ all over the place.
Oh, Gladys is a good girl,
said Mr. Thipps, very reasonable indeed. She was shocked, of course, that’s very understandable. I was shocked myself, and it wouldn’t be proper in a young woman not to be shocked under the circumstances, but she is reely a helpful, energetic girl in a crisis, if you understand me. I consider myself very fortunate these days to have got a good, decent girl to do for me and Mother, even though she is a bit careless and forgetful about little things, but that’s only natural. She was very sorry indeed about having left the bathroom window open, she reely was, and though I was angry at first, seeing what’s come of it, it wasn’t anything to speak of, not in the ordinary way, as you might say. Girls will forget things, you know, my lord, and reely she was so distressed I didn’t like to say too much to her. All I said was: ‘It might have been burglars,’ I said, ‘remember that, next time you leave a window open all night; this time it was a dead man,’ I said, ‘and that’s unpleasant enough, but next time it might be burglars,’ I said, ‘and all of us murdered in our beds.’ But the police-inspector—Inspector Sugg, they called him, from the Yard—he was very sharp with her, poor girl. Quite frightened her, and made her think he suspected her of something, though what good a body could be to her, poor girl, I can’t imagine, and so I told the inspector. He was quite rude to me, my lord—I may say I didn’t like his manner at all. ‘If you’ve got anything definite to accuse Gladys or me of, Inspector,’ I said to him, ‘bring it forward, that’s what you have to do,’ I said, ‘but I’ve yet to learn that you’re paid to be rude to a gentleman in his own ’ouse—house.’ Reely,
said Mr. Thipps, growing quite pink on the top of his head, he regularly roused me, regularly roused me, my lord, and I’m a mild man as a rule.
Sugg all over,
said Lord Peter, I know him. When he don’t know what else to say, he’s rude. Stands to reason you and the girl wouldn’t go collectin’ bodies. Who’d want to saddle himself with a body? Difficulty’s usually to get rid of ’em. Have you got rid of this one yet, by the way?
It’s still in the bathroom,
said Mr. Thipps. Inspector Sugg said nothing was to be touched till his men came in to move it. I’m expecting them at any time. If it would interest your lordship to have a look at it—
Thanks awfully,
said Lord Peter, I’d like to very much, if I’m not puttin’ you out.
Not at all,
said Mr. Thipps. His manner as he led the way along the passage convinced Lord Peter of two things—first, that, gruesome as his exhibit was, he rejoiced in the importance it reflected upon himself and his flat, and secondly, that Inspector Sugg had forbidden him to exhibit it to anyone. The latter supposition was confirmed by the action of Mr. Thipps, who stopped to fetch the door-key from his bedroom, saying that he made it a rule to have two keys to every door, in case of accident.
The bathroom was in no way remarkable. It was long and narrow, the window being exactly over the head of the bath. The panes were of frosted glass; the frame wide enough to admit a man’s body. Lord Peter stepped rapidly across to it, opened it and looked out.
The flat was the top one of the building and situated about the middle of the block. The bathroom window looked out upon the backyards of the flats, which were occupied by various small outbuildings, coal-holes, garages, and the like. Beyond these were the back gardens of a parallel line of houses. On the right rose the extensive edifice of St. Luke’s Hospital, Battersea, with its grounds, and, connected with it by a covered way, the residence of the famous surgeon, Sir Julian Freke, who directed the surgical side of the great new hospital, and was, in addition, known in Harley Street as a distinguished neurologist with a highly individual point of view.
This information was poured into Lord Peter’s ear at considerable length by Mr. Thipps, who seemed to feel that the neighbourhood of anybody so distinguished shed a kind of halo of glory over Queen Caroline Mansions.
We had him round here himself this morning,
he said, about this horrid business. Inspector Sugg thought one of the young medical gentlemen at the hospital might have brought the corpse round for a joke, as you might say, they always having bodies in the dissecting-room. So Inspector Sugg went round to see Sir Julian this morning to ask if there was a body missing. He was very kind, was Sir Julian, very kind indeed, though he was at work when they got there, in the dissecting-room. He looked up the books to see that all the bodies were accounted for, and then very obligingly came round here to look at this
—he indicated the bath—and said he was afraid he couldn’t help us—there was no corpse missing from the hospital, and this one didn’t answer to the description of any they’d had.
Nor to the description of any of the patients, I hope,
suggested Lord Peter casually.
At this grisly hint Mr. Thipps turned pale.
I didn’t hear Inspector Sugg inquire,
he said, with some agitation. What a very horrid thing that would be—God bless my soul, my lord, I never thought of it.
Well, if they had missed a patient they’d probably have discovered it by now,
said Lord Peter. "Let’s have