Anthony Webb is a fairly obscure Golden Age author who earned some good reviews in his day, especially for his series featuring an amiable amateur sleuth, getting on in years, called George Pendlebury. Webb's real name was Norman Scarlyn Wilson (1901-96) and he also wrote titles for the 'Teach Yourself' series of educational books (I'm pretty sure I recall his name from reading a couple of the books about modern languages many moons ago). I came across him in his Webb incarnation when I had the chance to buy a lovely inscribed copy of his 1939 book Mr Pendlebury Makes a Catch.
As the title suggests, the book opens at a cricket match, although it has to be said that after this good start, there's nothing more in the story for cricket lovers. We settle down to a story that involve three murders investigated not only by a local superintendent but also by Mr Pendlebury's visiting friend, Inspector Wagstaffe, and the old gentleman himself.
I don't really care for the term 'cosy crime', but if it fits any Golden Age book, it fits this one. There may be three violent deaths but the mood throughout is serene and charming - if you're charmed by Webb's light, humorous writing, that is. For me, it's something to be taken in small doses. Mr Pendlebury's circumlocutions and digressions can become a bit much, although he does get to the truth of the case in the end.
Anthony Berkeley, Milward Kennedy and Sir Hugh Walpole were among those who reviewed Webb's Pendlebury books favourably. They retain a genuine period charm, and the mystery plot is competently constructed. I have to admit that I didn't really care too much about the victims or who killed them, but I think that perhaps I wasn't intended to. I read this book in lovely summer weather - ideal for cricket - and it made perfectly satisfactory super-light entertainment.
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