CHARLIE CHAN RETURNS
From November 1974, this was a nostalgic treat. Written by Dennis Lynds but based on a screenplay by Ed Spielman and Howard Friedlander for a movie that never materialized, CHARLIE CHAN RETURNS has all the classic elements that have made the detective from Honolulu* an enduring favorite. Lynds does a solid craftmanslike job of telling the story, giving just enough detail and description to set the scene without bogging the story down.
It has been too long since I'd read a mystery with all the trimmings. A murder with the possibility of more to follow, a collection of vivid eccentric suspects, a hired assassin on the outskirts of the action, various city denizens being questioned, the irrelevant byplay between the detectives ("So, how's your mom, Ed?").... it's all here and I loved it.
There is even the wonderful inevitable moment at the conclusion when Chan gathers everyone involved together, teases them (and the reader) and then points the finger of doom. "You...are murderer!" The great detective explains why he keeps dragging this old chestnut out for his cases. ("Gathering together of forewarned suspects of police, in empty house announced to all in advance, is ancient cliche. All forget that old methods and cliches once had good reason to be used. Were necessary in time before scientific methods of detection were available.... Used then because only sure way to get proof of guilt was to have murderer reveal self by making mistake that trap self!")
How pleasing it is that, by the time of this story, Chan is famous enough that his visit to NYC makes the papers, that everyone knows who he is and that he's treated with respect by the NYPD. His third son Jimmy is a detective on the force, and he (along with a gruff stereotyped cop named Norbitz) welcome Chan`s assistance. And he deserves this treatment. The famous detective is perceptive and alert enough to escape a hand grenade rigged to go off when his shower door is opened, he is patient and through enough to gather such clues as white cat hairs that prove useful later on, and he does a fine job working through the tangles of alibies and mendacity every crimefighter has to face.
Charlie has been updated and streamlined only very slightly. He practices Tai Chi, a nice touch that explains how he stays limber despite advancing years, and he carries a small handgun when necessary but prefers not to be in situations where its use is necessary. The famous faux-Asian sayings are in abundance here, but there are only a few times when they seem goofy. Mostly, they are sound observations on human nature that remain good advice. ("Man who hire lion to guard temple, sometimes wake up to find no longer owns temple.")
Throughout the story, Chan's dry understated humour is a delight. When Jimmy smirks at Tai Chi, his father observes, "Ancestors may not be all wrong" and he asks Jimmy "please to write mother perhaps three times a year". His gentle sparring with the caustic atttitudes of some of the suspects is a lesson in polite verbal judo. It was impossible not to visualize Warner Oland as I read this and the fact that the Bantam paperback cover has three faces of Chan clearly based on Oland made it certain.
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*You don't suppose he taught a young Steve McGarrett a few tricks, do you?