Allie Jamison

Mary Virginia Carey wrote the first of her fifteen Three Investigators books, The Mystery of the Flaming Footprints, in 1971. She would continue with varying degrees of success until the last story, The Mystery of the Cranky Collector, in 1987, when the series was cancelled. She was identified only as M. V. Carey, to avoid discouraging the predominantly young male readers who wouldn’t want to read a book by a woman. Some of her stories (Wandering Caveman, Scar-Faced Beggar) were truly awful. Others were passable (Monster Mountain, Missing Mermaid). But there were a few gems. The Mystery of the Magic Circle is a point in question. But the best books she wrote for the series featured a strong female character called Allie Jamison. She was a bit of a spoilt rich kid who rode an Appaloosa and occasionally resided in Rocky Beach. She was hard-headed and gave Jupiter a run for his money when it came to investigating, although she relied much more on her instinct than on logic or deduction. Even so, she was usually right. Despite her cocky and conceited nature, the boys couldn’t help liking her; and neither could the readers. She was without doubt Mary Carey’s best contribution to the series and was featured in two stories: The Mystery of the Singing Serpent (1972) and The Mystery of Death Trap Mine (1976), numbers 17 and 24, respectively. As mentoned above, Ms. Carey's stories were not without their flaws. For example, she had a habit of using supernatural phenomena in her books and sometimes leaving the issue unresolved (the phantom priest in Invisible Dog and the monster in Monster Mountain). This was either meaningless or detrimental to the story. There is no supernatural phenomenon in the later story about Death Trap Mine and, fortunately, in Singing Serpent, she reverts to the use of Occam’s Razor and provides a logical and satisfactory explanation for the several mysterious events that take place in the story.

Singing Serpent was one of the first 3I books I read, maybe seventh or eighth. I was in the town with my mother and brother one Saturday afternoon in early 1977 and up near Buchanan Street Bus Station we came across a little shop called The Church of Scotland Book Shop. I saw a Three Investigators book in the window and dashed in. There were lots of the smaller Collins hardbacks, which I had never seen before. I think they cost a pound each or £1.25. That was quite a lot of money back then. I begged my mum for a book and she surprised me by agreeing to buy two! The other one was The Mystery of the Shrinking House. Once I got home, I plunged into Singing Serpent and absolutely loved it. I read it many times. Although it was a hardback book, there were no internal illustrations. It was only with the advent of the internet that I finally got to see the pictures used in the American edition.

Death Trap Mine was only published in the UK almost a year later. My friend Stephen, who also read T3I and The Hardy Boys, came to school one day bursting with the news that he had come across the newly released Number 25 in the series, The Mystery of the Dancing Devil. He told me the exciting news that, according to the list of titles in Dancing Devil, the 24th book was called The Mystery of Death Trap Mine. But it seemed that everyone in the city was after the single copy at our library, and neither of us could get our hands on it. I can remember waiting for months to borrow it. Every time I asked, it was out on loan or had been reserved. But then my luck changed. One Thursday night, I was browsing around the library on my own and suddenly, as if in a dream, there it was, lying on a reading table. On a chair beside the table bags and coats were piled, and a school notebook lay open on the table next to the book. I was perfectly aware that the little blonde girl that had wandered over to a nearby shelf of girls' books for a moment, leaving the treasure unguarded, had reserved it. It was too sore a trial. I considered myself a law-abiding citizen, but I had to have that book. I decided to take it and, if challenged, bluff my way out. I knew deep down that I was about to do something wrong. But I had only just turned eleven and pretended to myself that the book was there for the taking. I picked it up, walked over to the librarian’s desk and handed it to her. That was a long moment. I stood silently, nervously, waiting for her to say “Oh, sorry! I’m afraid you can’t take this.” But she didn’t. I could hear the girl, now back at the table, say “But, Da-ad…” The man just shook his head, his beard parted in a smile. But I pretended not to see him while that interminable moment stretched out. I must have looked as guilty as sin, but the librarian hardly glanced at me. Finally, I heard the little beep as my library ticket was scanned. Fate was on my side. The librarian stamped the book and handed it to me. I stashed it under my coat and fled! I was several hundred yards along the Alderman Road before I slowed down. On I went, turning left at Dyke Road, then down Brownside Drive and over the bridge to 10 Kelso Street. I was home. No sign of pursuit. The Mystery of Death Trap Mine was mine, all mine – for two weeks anyway. I got to school the next day and told Stephen I had got the elusive book. He pretended not to care, but I could tell he was jealous. After all, he was the one who had discovered that Number 22 was called Dead Man’s Riddle and that the scene depicted on the cover illustration of Invisible Dog didn’t actually occur in the story. Now it was my turn to gloat. But I promised I would lend the book to him. Then he looked happy.

It happens quite often in life that you can really look forward to something, build up your expectations, only to be let down. Sometimes, nothing can live up to the hype we create in our minds. I’m happy to say that this was not the case here. Death Trap Mine was everything I had hoped for and more. The return of Allie Jamison was totally unexpected and delightful. The book had everything that had often been lacking in the stories penned after the demise of Robert Arthur: a good, strong, memorable crook (three of them actually), a really exciting plot, wonderful secondary characters and a red herring. The boys and Allie visit her uncle’s Christmas tree ranch in New Mexico. A long dead mine is being worked again and mysterious characters are hanging around this usually peaceful place. It’s action all the way. A thief in the night, visits to ghost towns, explosions, helicopter rides… I read the story twice in a row. I pronounced it the best, the greatest book I had ever read. I would say it’s still my favourite 3I book. In a way, it is my Sehnsucht, my joy. By 1979, I had my own copy, a small Collins hardback. I used to write a grade on the first page of my books. This one was marked “100%”. I read it for the umpteenth time only a few months ago and it still stands up. A true favourite.

I wonder if that little girl at the library ever got to read the story. I hope she enjoyed it as much as I did. I still feel grateful to her father for not intervening. All he had to do was take a few steps across the room and remove the book from my grasp. He could have said "I'm sorry, son, that book was reserved for my daughter," or, even worse, "How dare you snatch a book from my little girl's table!" As he looked curiously at me, I sensed that he sympathised with me, perhaps remembering when he was a boy and how he had longed to read a particular book that was not easy to obtain. I'll never know. But it was nice of him to let me off the hook.