The Waxworks Murder

Ah, The Waxworks Murder (1956 Penguin Books, no ISBN because it predates the age of beeping scanners and modern accountability), offered here in Poor condition — which is the book world’s polite way of saying: this one has been places.

John Dickson Carr, grand ringmaster of the impossible crime, ushers you into a waxworks, a location that is already unsettling before anyone even considers doing a murder. Wax figures stare with that special dead-eyed realism that makes you wonder whether they’ve moved when you weren’t looking. Corridors creak. Shadows behave badly. And somewhere in the middle of it all, Carr is quietly rubbing his hands and setting up the kind of puzzle that dares you to keep up.

Carr’s great trick is making the outlandish feel oddly plausible. You’ll find yourself nodding along as if it’s perfectly reasonable that a murder could be committed under conditions that would make a locksmith weep. Clues appear. Suspects circle. Explanations multiply. The atmosphere thickens. And, just when you think you’ve got it pinned down, the plot slips its moorings and glides off into another locked room.

Now, about this particular copy.

This is not a pristine collector’s piece. This is a survivor. It is complete and readable, but it has been heavily handled, enthusiastically opened, and repeatedly asked to perform its duty as a paperback thriller. The spine is rolled and heavily creased with compression, the covers are worn and marked, and the overall vibe is “borrowed from a friend in 1979 and never returned.” If books could sigh, this one would sigh deeply and reach for a cup of tea.

But here’s the thing: a murder mystery in too-perfect condition is faintly suspicious. A Carr novel should look like it’s been clutched on late-night trains, dropped on sofas, propped open on beds, and read with the intensity of someone insisting they’ll stop after “just one more chapter.” This copy has clearly served that purpose, and it has the scars to prove it.

So if you want a pristine Penguin, keep walking. If you want a gloriously grimy, properly vintage, delightfully dramatic slice of Golden Age mayhem — complete with that iconic green Penguin look and all the evidence of decades of enjoyment — then congratulations: you’ve found your waxworks specimen.

Sold by Crappy Old Books, where the plots are twisty, the spines are occasionally squashed, and the vibes are always unabridged.

Keep browsing: See more Crime books Other books by John Dickson Carr