OK, I've finished it and formed my theory, but since MbD had pity on me last night (her time) and didn't exploit her world clock-generated advantage, I'll put all of my case notes (except for the corresponding headlines) in spoiler tags just to be on the safe side. Though I do have a feeling we're on the same track as far as the solution is concerned. But anyway!
Bolitho Blane and Nicholas Stodart
Who are they really, anyway???
* No verifiable third-hand information from any indisputable source (Scotland Yard, British armed forces, British colonial administration, etc.) on either.
* Stodart's personal background especially re: the war years (WWI) is sourced only through S. himself. The British authorities don't even know him (i.e., he doesn't even have a birth certificate at Somerset House??)
* Ditto essentially Blane, who styles himself as a recluse and conducts even his business affairs chiefly "at the remote" -- by telephone and cable / correspondence.
* Both Blane and Stodart surfaced in Britain suddenly, at some point after the end of WWI, with a vague background of having come from "the colonies" (Australia / India / South Africa).
* Nobody, not even Rocksavage and the yacht's captain saw Blane / Stodart come on board (as per Rocksavage's testimony, you can't see the gangway from the bridge).
* Nobody saw Blane immediately after boarding; even the steward was kept out of his suite.
* Only one person on board knows what Blane looks like -- the Bishop, who wasn't in the lounge with the other passengers (minus Blane) before dinner on the fateful night and promptly has a fainting fit when Stodart enters the room where he is being interrogated.
* Similarly, nobody knows what Blane's handwriting looks like (or Stodart's for that matter). The alleged suicide note is produced by Stodart.
* In fact, the entire suicide theory originates with Stodart. (BUT: If you're staging a suicide, then why also stage a murder (tracks on the carpet, blood stains)?)
* Blane not only owns Argus Suds but (as per Jocelyn, who ought to know) also Redmeyer Synd shares, which at least before Blane's "exit" seem to have been faring considerably better than Argus Suds -- and better than Rocksavage Con, even if not as well as the other stocks associated with Rocksavage (Denton Bros, Grandol Soaps, and Sen Toilet Preps).
* Why the sudden need for a secretary / assistant on Blane's part, shortly before this trip?! Explanation given isn't convincing.
* What is the meaning of Stodart's toothache / ill-fitting dentures? Something to do with blood?
New York (Blane & Stodart's Travel to and Stay There)
* Blane's luggage has tags for the Ritz, Stodart's doesn't (at least not visibly).
* Stodart's luggage has "Cunard Line" tag, Blane's doesn't (at least not visibly). (NB: As per internet research, the R.M.S. Berengaria really was a Cunard ship in the 1930s.)
* Letter to the Bishop written on Adlon Claridge paper. That seems to have been the Bishop's hotel in N.Y.: The Adlon Claridge match found later suggests that the letter wasn't sent to the Bishop as part of the mail delivered on board, but already conveyed to him in N.Y. in some fashion.
* Interpretation that letter to Bishop contains a veiled threat and is intended to hush him up is probably correct.
* Blane's luggage contains dirty / used clothing for 2 days. So was there a laundry on the R.M.S. Berengaria? (N.B.: Blue riband winners in the mid-1930s clocked in at roughly 4 days' travel time. So the voyage from England would easily have taken that long, if not a day or two longer.) But wouldn't the Ritz have offered laundry services, too?
* Stodart's luggage not inventoried. (Presumably because police consider him a witness?)
* By letter to Bishop, we know that Blane / Stoddart were (was?!) in New York on March 5.
* Then [t]he[y] found an excuse not to travel to Florida with the rest of the passengers, and only board the yacht there at the very last minute on March 8.
* If Blane was shot, where is the bullet? Why wasn't it recovered (near one of the blood stains or anywhere else)?
* Crime scene photos at the very least don't suggest bullet has entered the wall.
* No odd number of bullets found in Blane's possession (25 bullets sounds like a number that B. could have counted off and brought with him from home).
* What caused that blood stain's black rim -- possibly black ink?
* "Suicide note" written in blue ink. Comment on the back of the stock price listing written in black ink, like the stock price listing itself.
* Writing set on the desk seems to be missing one (the middle) pen.
* What color is the ink found in Blane's personal possessions -- black or blue? The inventory doesn't say.
* Where did whoever wrote the suicide note (if it was written on board) sit while doing so? There is no chair anywhere near the desk.
* Additional notes on ink / paper:
(a) Both of Hayashi's notes are written in blue ink as well. As per his and the steward's testimony, immediately after boarding no foolscap / writing paper and no ink available in his cabin (only after the main on-board store had been reopened and cabins could be reprovisioned from there). Lacking writing materials in his own cabin, Hayashi had to resort to materials provided in the ship's writing room.
(b) No odd number of sheets of yellow writing paper on the block contained in Blane's possessions. 25 sheets sounds like this could be the complete block brought by Blane from home.
(c) 68 pages of foolscap suggests use of some of the foolscap paper, though. But for what purpose?
* In Blane's room, no change of daytime or evening clothes seems to have been unpacked / laid ready for dinner (only his pyjama and dressing gown). -- Stodart, OTOH, has had a change of shoes and socks at the very least.
* What is the black spot at the far end of the bathtub in Blane's suite?
* If the steward was in the adjacent room to Blane's suite, why didn't he hear anything? (The shot may have been silenced, but literally nothing -- no commotion, not Blane's / Stodart's voice(s), no sounds of something falling (the body?!)? May be the fault of the nearby carpenter's work, though.
Time of the Murder
* See above: Why can't the murder (if such a thing occurred in the first place) have been committed right after boarding? We only have Stodart's word for the assertion that Blane was alive then in the first place -- and Stodart, by his own testimony, was alone in the room with him until 7:30 pm.
* At and after 7:00 pm (even more so, between 7:30 and 8:30 / 8:45 pm) it would have been dark outside, so presumably nobody would have seen what, if anything, was tossed out of the porthole of Blane's suite at that time.
* But: According to the page torn from Stodart's calendar, full moon at 4:15 am. (Where exactly does that get us? What, if anything, was planned for that time?)
* Stodart is the only person who was always in somebody's view and therefore has a perfect alibi during the entire time when Detective Kettering believes the murder was committed (i.e., after 7:30 or even after 7:45 pm). -- As Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot and Lord Peter Wimsey have all said on many a similar occasion: "There is nothing I distrust so much as a seemingly unbreakable alibi."
Relationship Blane / Hayashi
* Is Hayashi's note really about Blane's supposed intent to come to an agreement with Rocksavage? I don't think so -- rather, the wording suggests a specific action being contemplated by Blane, and of which he has given Hayashi advance notice; maybe in order to sway H. in his (Blane's) own favor.
* We know from Slick, aka the Count, that Blane had exposed Slick's card-sharping on a previous occasion, much to Slick's detriment. Could Blane not have told Hayashi that if H. didn't grant the Japanese monopoly to him (Blane), he'd expose the bribery scheme to which Rocksavage had more or less already agreed?
Both Edmund Crispin's Moving Toyshop and Alan Melville's Quick Curtain are mentioned in the "Making Fun of Murder" chapter of Martin Edwards's Story of Classic Crime in 100 Books. Both are excellent examples of writers taking something as horrific as murder and turning it right around and into a farce, albeit (as Dorothy L. Sayers remarked in her review of Melville's book) at the expense of a realistic description of proper police procedure. But then, a surfeit of realism isn't necessarily what either of these authors was aiming for.
Which doesn't mean that their observations on society, or the segment thereof being portrayed (academia in Crispin's case, the world of showbiz and the theatre in Melville's) aren't spot on satire. In fact, if read in that spirit, they are, in many respects, as timely today as they were when originally written:
"Tuesday, June 18th, you will have noticed, was the great day [of the musical company's London opening]. On Sunday, June 16th, when most of the Blue Music company were still in Manchester [...], seven grim females parked seven rickety campstools outside the gallery entrance of the Grosvenor Theatre.
They were joined a little later in the evening by four more females and a lone male. They unpacked sandwiches and munched. They uncorked thermos flasks and drank hot coffee out of the aluminium tops of the flasks. They discussed with one another Mr. Douglas, Miss Astle, Mr. Baker, Mr. Douglas's past successes, Miss Astle's last divorce, Mr. Baker's profile -- both the port and the starboard view. They half slept. They suffered endless agonies on their stupid, unreliable campstools; they each contracted stiff necks and shooting pains in the lower reaches of the spine; they were photographed for their pains by a man in a dirty waterproof and appeared on the back page of the Daily Post under the title 'Gallery Enthusiasts' Three-Day Wait for New Douglas Show.' They were stll there on Tuesday morning, proudly in the van of a fair-sized queue."
(Alan Melville, Quick Curtain)
Harry Potter and Apple gadgets, anyone?
Edmund Crispin's Moving Toyshop concerns the temporary metamorphosis of a grocer's shop into (you guessed it) a toyshop for purposes of the concealment of the scene of a murder; a plan that goes haywire when one of the book's two protagonists, a poet friend of Oxford don (and star of this book series) Gervase Fen, accidentally stumbles into the temporarily morphed shop, shortly after the dastardly deed has been committed. Crispin's particular forte were hilarious chase scenes, of which this book contains several, perhaps the most notable being the two amateur sleuths' chase after a young woman in the midst of the Oxford Händel Society's rehearsal of Brahms's Schicksalslied in the Sheldonian Theatre:
"The girl with the blue eyes and the golden hair was embedded in the very middle of the altos, and there was no way to get near her except through the basses, who stood nearby, behind the orchestra. Accordingly, they hacked out a path between the instrumentalists, under the envenomed gaze of Dr Artemus Rains [the conductor]. The second horn, a sandy, undersized man, went quite out of tune with indignation. Brahms thundered and trumpeted about their ears. 'Blindly,' the chorus roared, 'blindly from one dread hour to another.' They knocked over the music-stand of the tympanist, sweating with the efford of counting bars, so that he failed to come in at his last entry.
The haven of the basses achieved at last, a number of further difficulties presented themselves. The Sheldonian is not particularly spacious, and the members of the large choir have to be herded together in conditions not unreminiscent of the Black Hole of Calcutta. When Fen and Cadogan, pushing, perspiring, and creating a great deal of localized pother, had penetrated the basses to a certain distance (Cadogan shedding wicker basket, bootlaces, and dog-collar broadcast as he went) the could literally get no farther; they were wedged, and even the avenue by which they had come was now irrevocably closed and sealed. [...]
Dr. Rains leaned his spidery form forwards across the rostrum. 'Professor Fen --' he began in a silky voice.
But he was not allowed to finish. The girl with the blue eyes, profiting by this sudden focusing of attention, had pushed her way through the altos and was now heading at a brisk pace towards the door. Unnerved by this fresh interruption, Dr Rains swung round to glare at her. Fen and Cadogan got on the move again with alacrity, clawing their way back through the basses and the orchestra without ceremony or restraint. But this process delayed them, and the girl had been out of the hall at least half a minute by the time they reached open ground. Dr. Rains watched them go with a theatrical expression of sardonic interst.
'Now that the English Faculty has left us,' Cadogan heard him say, 'we will go back to the letter L.' The rehearsal started afresh."
I've yet to see the BBC TV adaptation of this, but if handled well, this is not the only scene that would have made for much hilarity, never mind the novel's otherwise somewhat thin plot.
Alan Melville's Quick Curtain is, as shown already in the excerpt further above, a satire on the world of 1930s theatre and showbiz, where a murder occurring at the focal point of a bestselling new musical comedy is investigated (with many quips and witty asides) by a policeman and his journalist son. Obviously, this premise in and of itself is more than merely a little preposterous, even for the 1930s, but if you're able to get past this point (Ms. Sayers obviously wasn't) and past the fact that the central plot device has been used about a million times since, there is much to enjoy here -- and Melville, who knew the world he was describing inside out, certainly doesn't mince words when it comes to the characterization of the chief players who, like those of another theatre insider turned mystery writer of the day, Ngaio Marsh, are thinly veiled take-downs on several real life stars -- yet Melville (like Marsh) kept the allusions just on the right side of the generic and light-hearted, without ever descending into outright character assassination. (Well, he was making a living in that very world himself, after all.) And he managed to maintain his light, almost absurdist approach right until the end: Think a Golden Age mystery always ends with a pat and neat solution? Think again. Even if there is such a thing as a standard-issue conclave in the 23:45th-ish hour ...