And Then There Were Nuns: The Religious Body (1966), by Catherine Aird

In 1966 at age 35 the late Catherine Aird published her debut detective novel, The Religious Body, putting her squarely in the midst of what might be called second wave crime queening in British detective fiction.  With Dead Men Don't Ski in 1959, Patricia Moyes slightly anticipated this newer generation of Sixties women mystery authors who were writing firmly in the style of their predecessors Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers, Margery Allingham, Ngaio Marsh, Josephine Tey and Gladys Mitchell (not to mention later-comers Margaret Erskine, Christianna Brand and Elizabeth Ferrars).  Moyes was followed by PD James and Sara Woods (1962) as well as Ruth Rendell (1964) before Aird came along two years later.  (Anne Morice popped in for tea a bit later in 1970.)  

All in all, it's a pretty formidable group of mystery writers, which surely gave comfort to readers of the day who were repeatedly being informed by smug critics, celebrating the merits of the likes of Simenon and Patricia Highsmith and John le Carre, that the classic detective novel exemplified by Christie and her sister monarchs was dying a rapid and deserved death.

Margery Allingham passed away neatly in the middle of 1966 (June 30), leaving behind an unfinished mystery novel later completed by her husband, while Sayers and Tey had both expired in the 1950s and Christianna Brand largely retired from writing detective novels after 1955.  However, all of the other ladies remained quite active players in the murder game.  In 1966, there appeared, in addition to Aird's The Religious Body, Christie's Third Girl, Marsh's Death at the Dolphin, Mitchell's The Croaking Raven, Erskine's The Family at Tammerton, Woods' Enter Certain Murderers and Rendell's Vanity Dies Hard. I think you can make the case that Aird's novel is is the best of the bunch.  

1985 sixth printing of the
US pb ed in Bantam's
"Murder Most British" series

The Religious Body concerns the murder of a nun, Sister Anne, at the Convent of St. Anselm in the village of Cullingoak in Aird's fictional county of Calleshire, which she presumably based on Kent, the county where she lived out her adult life.  At the end of Chapter 1 we learn that Sister Anne has gone missing and at the beginning of Chapter 2 we find that Inspector C. D. Sloan of the Berebury Division of the Calleshire Constabulary is investigating her suspicious death. (She was found huddled at the bottom of the cellar stairs.) 

Sloan is doubtfully assisted by young Detective-Constable William Crosby, who is "raw, perky and consciously representing the younger generation in the force." Detective-Sergeant Gleven was not available and only appears briefly in the book, but a young woman detective-sergeant named Perkins appears near the end in a significant select capacity.  

In the character of Crosby you can detect that despite being only 35 herself, Aird disapproved of the rising generation--another quality she had in common with Christie and her company!  Personally I rather like the lad.  

Sloan is overseen by Superintendent Leeyes, a pompous windbag fond of self-improvement seminars who contributes nothing of use to the investigation but is there to supply a bit of comic relief to the criminal proceedings--not that things ever get that dark in the book in the first place.  

Along with pathologist Dr. Dabbe this police trio appears in every book in the series, I believe--though none of them ever seem to change or even age over more than half a century!  Aird had a formula and she stuck to it.  In later books I find that the vaudeville comedian act of Crosby, Leeyes and Dabbe can get a bit tiring.  Sloan on the other hand, is a bit drabbe, shall we say, but that's okay--you might say he's tragic relief.  Someone has to play the straight man.  

The Religious Body actually is somewhat less formulaic than later books, with the comical digressions of later books much toned down.  For fans of some of the more serious crime queens who are new to Aird, the author's first few books probably are the best place to start.  And none better, indeed, than The Religious Body.

Rereading the novel I was struck by how it fits right in with Gladys Mitchell's two mysteries set at convents, St. Peter's Finger and Convent on Styx, which came respectively 28 years before and nine years after The Religious Body, in 1938 and 1975.  There is also resemblance to Mitchell's Spotted Hemlock (1958), which is appealingly set at neighboring schools, a female agricultural college and a men's college. 

In The Religious Body, a men's agricultural college adjoins the property of the convent.  In both the Mitchell and the Aird novels the penchant of the young college men for performing rowdy "rags" plays pivotal roles in the plots.  (Guy Fawkes Night takes place in the Aird novel.)  

St. Ethelburga's Convent, formerly in Deal, Kent

The convent building itself was converted from the former manor house of the diminished local great family, the Faines, who sadly now are represented solely by one winsome daughter.  By special dispensation she is soon to wed the headmaster of the agricultural college at her old home, now the convent.  

Aird lacks Mitchell's often bizarre, sometimes surreal, aspect, but in their mysteries both women convey a quirky, wry sense of the absurdity of life that appeals to many readers while putting off some others.  Me, I'm a fan on the whole, although both authors go overboard for me into dottiness occasionally. 

Suitable to her subject (nuns), Aird stays pretty serious for the course of the book, mostly poking fun, when she does poke fun, at the policemen's bemusement over the, to them, passing strange conventions of convent life.  There's a nun who holds the office of procuratrix, for example, and a sister named St. Bernard.  

Some of the cops and other characters express notions about nuns that seem very antiquated today--all to the effect that they must be failed women running away from real life and cruelly exploited by the Papacy.  The author's sympathetic portrayal of convent living challenges those notions, however.  (You might also be reminded of the beloved British television series Call the Midwife.)  St. Anselm's Mother Superior and her much younger underling, Sister Lucy, for example, are impressive characters.  Much of the book is rather sober by Aird's standards--in other words, this ain't The Flying Nun.  

The Flying Nun television series ran from 1967 to 1970 and starred Sally Field
who worked years to live down her cutesy ingenue image

It's all very impressively done and adds immeasurably to the appeal of the novel.  Gladys Mitchell had a sister who was a nun, but I don't believe that Aird, of Highland Scots ancestry, was even Catholic, so kudos to her for informing herself on the subject.  

Anyway, it transpires that Sister Anne was bumped off with the proverbial blunt instrument, the precise identity of which is cleverly hidden throughout most of the book.  Aird looks at both people inside and outside of the convent who might have had motivation to murder Sister Anne, who, it turns out, was actually an heiress to a valuable estate, which would go in turn to the convent.  (Nuns don't own property.)  There's a chapter devoted to a call which Sloan and Crosby pay on Anne's repellently cold and superficial mother, who never forgave her daughter for devoting her life exclusively to God.  

Some years ago Patrick Ohl, a young mystery blogger who later became a priest, in his review was pretty hard on this book, saying that Aird made a flub concerning blood coagulation and provided an ill-motivated second murder, but I'm inclined more to let the author off the hook for these alleged sins.  However, you could actually argue that both of the murders are insufficiently motivated. In classic detective novels the nicest people--and all of the people in this book at least seem nice--just will go and start plotting ingenious murders at the drop of a hat.   

I do think Aird provided some very good clues to the crimes, however, keeping the whole affair rolling along in an engaging way as a brain teaser.  Coupled with the strong atmosphere you have a real winner of a classic detective novel, rather along the lines, come to think of it, of PD James' later Shroud for a Nightingale (1971), memorably set at a nursing school--though admittedly Aird's book is a far lighter read.  Which some people no doubt will actually prefer!