“Something to Do With Figures” (1945)

Some interesting problems with this story by Miriam Allen deFord—not so much with the story itself, which is competent as mystery stories go, but more with its provenance and related issues. I think the Internet Speculative Fiction Database (ISFDB) has, for the first time, failed me. ISFDB has a page for deFord, who was born in 1888 and wrote science fiction as well as mysteries (even appearing in Harlan Ellison’s Dangerous Visions!), but has nothing on this story or any of the anthologies under the Ellery Queen brand in which she published. Technically, this story would have to be classified as “non-genre” (meaning at ISFDB no speculative elements), but it’s not in the non-genre part of the deFord page either. I’ll give credit for this one as a find to Mary Danby, editor of 65 Great Murder Mysteries. Danby edited Fontana anthologies alongside Robert Aickman, Christine Bernard, and R. Chetwynd-Hayes from the ‘60s into the ‘80s and then went on to put together big fat anthologies of 65 stories each, which haunted Half-Price Books outlets for years. Like any reasonably good anthologist of horror and related, Danby turned often to tried-and-true classics—inevitable in the business of selling these things. But she was also notably good at ferreting out lesser-known pieces that are often surprisingly good. She had good taste, in short, and read widely. There’s nothing fancy or perhaps even that special about “Something to Do With Figures” but it’s a classic detective/mystery story in a certain line descended from Poe. It has a big reveal at the end that verges on gimmickry but plays by all the rules. It hinges on a point of forensics that slightly strained credulity or at least it was new to me and I’ve seen a lot of Forensic Files episodes. The idea is that a body bleeding out dies in different positions depending on whether an artery or a vein was severed. I mean, maybe, I’ve just never heard of it. The premise is that an unpleasant woman has been murdered and her brother is accused of doing it. He was found standing over the body with a knife in his hand that had blood on it, but let’s not jump to conclusions. The setting is a hotel floor with three connected rooms. The detective is certain it’s the strange neighbor in the third room. As mystery stories go, this one is neat and tidy—perfect for Ellery Queen—with some very good misdirection. Nice little find.

65 Great Murder Mysteries, ed. Mary Danby (out of print)
Story not available online.

"The Malley System" (1967)

Harlan Ellison might seem a bit judgmental in his introduction to Miriam Allen deFord's story in the Dangerous Visions anthology, going on about how old she was to contribute, but I must say a birthdate in 1888 seems remarkable to me too. Though not without its flaws, the story is the best one yet in this collection. I'm going to help you here—or you may consider this a spoiler alert. I thought the structure was a bit clumsy. The first half is disconnected scenes of confusing violence. In the second half they are explained. For me, this meant going back to read the first half again, and then it made much more sense (it's sort of the problem of William Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury). So I'm going to tell you now. Stand by. The "Malley System" is a form of punishment or rehabilitation for convicted violent felons—murderers, rapists, child molesters, etc. With brain mapping and other technologies sufficiently advanced it's possible to systematically make someone vividly re-experience their crimes again in memory. DeFord explores some of the ramifications in terms of the effects. The treatment is administered daily, and there is a pattern to the responses. The story has a good concept, but I think the best part, once understood, are those scenes from the first half. They are horrific and unnerving. This is sharp, vivid, thoroughly imagined writing. DeFord also wrote crime journalism and other nonfiction, and it shows. Her fantasies are clinical and precise. It's hard to miss a certain amount of rage back of it. In fact, I've almost retreated all the way to Ellison's dumbstruck wonder that material like this could come from a little old lady (Ellison refers to her as a "lady," but I am doing so only ironically—really). If it helps, and it helps me a little, she also wrote for left-wing magazines in the 1920s. That helps me understand where her rage might have been coming from in 1967 as a 79-year-old. Certainly the totalitarian state, with Lachin Malley as its representative—perhaps a figure in the vein of Stanley Milgram—is coolly deconstructed and plausibly responsible. It's chilling, and it's the first story in this collection to live up to the title.

Dangerous Visions, ed. Harlan Ellison