The Body Under the Piano

Jocelyn’s The Body Under the Piano opens with a striking statement: “I will tell first about making a new friend and save the dead body for later.” It continues in this intriguing way, creating a mystery as engaging as those of the grand dame of detective fiction, Agatha Christie. Cartoons by illustrator Isabelle Follath introduce the cast of convincingly realistic characters. Young readers will identify with the narrator, Aggie Morton, a bright, witty 12-year-old with a strong sense of fair play and a natural curiosity.

Aggie lives with her mother, her Grannie Jane and her dog Tony in a large house with a garden on the outskirts of Torquay, England. The year is 1902, and the Mortons are grieving the death of Aggie’s father and the departure of Aggie’s elder sister, Marjorie, who recently married a wealthy suitor. The Mortons’ small staff of servants includes Aggie’s nursemaid/companion, Charlotte, and a young gardener, Leonard Cable.

Home-schooled, Aggie wishes she were attending a regular school and making friends. The only young people she meets are other dance students at Miss Marianne Eversham’s Mermaid Dance Room, and these girls are cliquish. Aggie loves Miss Marianne, who is her neighbour as well as her instructor. Single, thirtyish, a women’s rights advocate, Marianne owns the house on the lot next the Mortons’ where she lives with her widowed sister-in-law, Irma (who inherited her late husband’s money) and her niece, Rose, a young woman of an age to flirt with young men.

Although Miss Marianne disapproves of her dance students eating sugar and sweets, Aggie and Charlotte often stop after Saturday class at a nearby candy store. A silly accident leaves the shop owner sitting on the floor surrounded by shattered glass. A boy Aggie’s age, one with slicked-down black hair and “eyes like lime cordial” enters, and, while Charlotte is out on the street summoning the cop on the beat for help, he gets the owner to his feet. With a slight accent, the youth, a Belgian refugee, introduces himself as Hector Perot. Adult readers may note the similarity between “Hector Perot” and “Hercule Poirot”, the fictional detective in Agatha Christie’s novels.

A charity concert to support refugees is being held at the dance studio. Before it begins, crates are placed around the walls for gifts of clothing. Refreshments are donated by Fusswell’s Royal Victoria Hotel and delivered by the hotel owner’s son, Roddy, who is in his twenties. Floral arrangements donated by the Mortons are carried in by Leonard Cable. The confrontation between Irma Eversham and Roddy prior to the concert doesn’t affect the success of the entertainment although Aggie gets stage fright and can’t read the poem she composed for the occasion. On leaving, she forgets the notebook containing her poem, and much later, after recovering it, she finds in it a loose sheet of paper - the mysterious letter quoted at the start of this review- made up of glued-on words cut from newspapers.

Next day, Aggie, the first to arrive at the studio, finds Irma Eversham’s dead body. Her face is blue, and one of her hands is positioned as if she were holding something between her thumb and index finger, except that there’s nothing there. The shock of her neighbour’s death makes Aggie’s bereaved mother take to her bed, thereby giving Aggie some free time to sleuth around. When Marianne and Rose Eversham become persons of interest to the police, Aggie, convinced that neither would kill anyone, joins forces with Hector Perot to find the killer. They ask questions, listen to adult conversations, shadow suspects, sneak out at night, and arouse the ire of the police.

More than just a mystery, The Body under the Piano captures Edwardian attitudes toward women. Readers will be intrigued by the fact that women swimmers of that era were wheeled into the water in “bathing machines” to protect their privacy as they got in and out of the water. The men in the novel make condescending generalizations about “the gentler sex”. Roddy Fusswell, whom the children suspect of wanting to marry Rose for her inheritance, says that a woman needs the guidance of a man. When the Mortons invite Mr. Standfast, the Evershams’ lawyer, to tea, Aggie remarks that lawyers get to hear interesting stories and that maybe she’ll become one. Mr. Standfast laughs and says a woman cannot become a solicitor:

“I cannot think of a law school that would accept a female applicant. The bar examinations are far too difficult....Even if one or two members of the gentler sex were determined enough to succeed, what client would trust a woman with his secrets?... Females are known for being chatterboxes, which rather blights the oath-of-secrecy bit, you see.”

Furthering the theme of women’s second class status, author Jocelyn has one character disguise herself as a man for the sake of her career. Indeed, the plot hinges on the social condemnation of unwed mothers. At the same time, Aggie’s physical courage, powers of deduction and independent attitude give lie to the notion that women are inferior. Though Aggie enjoys Hector’s companionship and assistance, she is the better detective. Given her ability to imagine passages of crime fiction, her attempt to write poetry, and the limited career opportunities available to her, she seems destined for a literary career.

While there are plenty of amusing descriptions and occurrences in The Body under the Piano, other incidents, normal and everyday yet vaguely repellent, create an atmosphere of unease. These include Aggie’s discovery of a dead rabbit; her pride in her pet cemetery; her family’s claim that she has a ‘morbid preoccupation’ with death; mouse poison in Marianne’s studio, and Aggie’s visit to the Torquay Museum of Natural History where she inquires about poisonous plants, ostensibly out of concern for her dog.

The novel is skillfully structured and carefully paced for maximum suspense. Though I made notes and paid attention to possible clues, I had no idea who the murderer was until three quarters of the way through, and I did not anticipate the dramatic ending. The final chapter, which involves some summing up, is brief, a welcome contrast to the tedious explanations that wind up many early twentieth century mysteries.

In her “Afterword”, author Marthe Jocelyn divulges what grown-ups and precocious young adult readers will have already guessed – that Aggie is based on the young Agatha Christie. Jocelyn, who did extensive research into Christie’s life, points out that Christie never discovered a corpse or pursued a killer, except in her imagination.

While Jocelyn’s overall historical accuracy is excellent, one item in the story jars, though it will go unnoticed by young readers who don’t know much history. Hector Perot is from Belgium. Jocelyn notes that Belgian refugees streamed into England when Germany invaded their country early in the First World War. The problem is, her novel is set in 1902 and World War I began in 1914, and so Hector cannot be one of these refugees.

“Belgium is quite civilized, on the surface of things,” says Mrs. Teasdale, with whom Hector is staying, “but their wretched king has behaved so badly, I’m not surprised that Hector’s father has sent his son away for a time.” This is the only explanation we get for his being in England.

Saying the king behaved badly is an understatement. In 1902, news about King Leopold’s administration of the Congo, a territory of which he was the sole owner, would have been the talk of Belgium. The colonial nations of Europe had authorized Leopold’s takeover of the Congo, supposedly to improve its inhabitants’ lives, but Leopold did anything but that. He made a fortune out of ivory and also forced the natives to work on his rubber plantations. Murder, torture, and atrocities, such as amputation of hands when the quota wasn’t met, characterized his administration. It is estimated that as many as fifteen million Congolese died during his regime. This nightmarish situation was exposed by an international Commission of Inquiry in 1904, with the result being that his fiefdom was taken away from him in 1908, and the territory was subsequently administered by the Government of Belgium.

In the interests of historical accuracy, Jocelyn might have elaborated briefly upon the Belgian king’s bad behaviour, summarizing the atrocities for which he was responsible. Such an explanation would make clear why Hector is in England while also adding to the ominous atmosphere of the novel.

Apart from this one point, The Body Under the Piano is clever and entertaining. At the end, Aggie, planning a trip away from Torquay, observes that “bodies can show up anywhere”. I was pleased with this indication that there will be more Aggie Morton Mystery Queen novels to come.