The Mouthless Dead, by Anthony Quinn review: ‘gripping'

Inspired by the mysterious Wallace Case of 1931, Anthony Quinn’s new novel is crying out to be turned into a black and white movie, writes Allan Massie

The Wallace Case, which took place in Liverpool almost a hundred years ago now, remains the most fascinating of unsolved murders. In his splendid Ego diaries, the great theatre critic James Agate calls it "the best of all modern crimes".

"Chess features in it,” he writes, “and the case for and against is as well balanced as a match between great masters". Fair enough, but now this intelligent and gripping novel by Anthony Quinn offers a new perspective and a plausible version of the story.

First, the basic facts. William Herbert Wallace, a fifty-something insurance agent in poor health, married but with no children, received a message at his Chess Club from an unknown man who invited him to call the following night, presumably seeking to take out a policy. He gave Wallace an address, Menlove Gardens East.

Anthony Quinn | Mark Vessey

Wallace set off to keep the appointment, telling his wife it shouldn't take long. He couldn’t find the address, however, asked various people for help, eventually gave up and returned home, only to find his wife battered to death. From the first, the police were sure he had killed her, and the case went to trial, despite Wallace's well-supported alibi. He was found guilty, but acquitted in the Court of Appeal. So there we are: a perfect crime. Perhaps.

The murder took place in 1931, but Quinn's novel begins after the Second World War. A recently retired detective inspector named Key - nice name, key to the story perhaps - is on his way to New York by ocean liner. (Ah, those were the days.) He had worked on the Wallace Case, knew the man indeed, being himself a member of the same Chess Club. He had bet a colleague that Wallace would be acquitted, won the bet when the appeal set him free. Now he is ready to reminisce about the puzzling case, may even be writing a book.

Key makes shipboard friends - a young woman and her possessive mother, and a young man, Teddy, who was worked in wartime documentaries and is heading optimistically for Hollywood. Naturally, Key’s memories of the Wallace trial fascinate the young people.

He reveals, first to us, the readers, and then to them, that he knew Wallace and his wife quite well for a year or two before the murder. In court, Wallace - a man suffering from kidney failure - had declared his love for his wife. Key knows, and tells his new friends, that the marriage was miserable, with Wallace a lonely and thwarted man.

Moreover, as Key points out, there is another twist to the mystery: the caller who lured Wallace to the non-existent address has never been found. Odd, isn't it? The young people are fascinated; Teddy even begins to rough out a film treatment.

That's enough of the story - it would be wrong for a reviewer to offer any more details. Suffice to say that what follows is gripping, the plot well devised and compelling. Indeed, I read The Mouthless Dead in a single sitting and turned back to read much of it again.

Key, a veteran of the First World War, with horrible and perhaps destructive memories, is a splendid character, compelling, difficult, impressive, never quite trustworthy, certainly not likeable. The novel offers a solution to the case which is at least plausible, in the sense that it makes good sense, yet, on reflection, also improbable.

Still, it would make a marvellous movie. Too bad Hitchock is no longer here to make it. Quinn's evocation of Thirties and Forties Liverpool - rain, trams, cobbled streets, insurance agents making their daily rounds - cries out for a black-and-white movie, if not by Hitchcock, then by Carol Reed. Too late for either of course. Still, Quinn's outline of the movie young Teddy was hoping to make could be a starting-point. Meanwhile, there is this intelligent and utterly enjoyable novel, itself a triumph.

The Mouthless Dead, by Anthony Quinn, Abacus Books, £20