Young Rumpole’s first big case

For years now, fans of the redoubtable British barrister Horace Rumpole have heard him make references to the groundbreaking murder trial that first put him on the map. Now, at long last, his creator, John Mortimer, has seen fit in “Rumpole and the Penge Bungalow Murders” to disclose the full story of the case that not only established Rumpole’s reputation but also honed his principles, defined his character and won him the regard of his future wife, Hilda, a.k.a. “She Who Must Be Obeyed.”

The case in question took place in the early 1950s, when young Rumpole, law degree in hand, took up his first -- and, as it turned out, permanent -- position in the chambers of Hilda’s father, C.H. Wystan. Now, for the edification of his current colleagues in those same chambers who are woefully ignorant of its history, Rumpole summons up the story with his usual flair:

“The war had been over for several years, but it still seemed part of our lives. Films featured life and death in the skies during the Battle of Britain, and heroes and heroines of the Resistance. It was a period when those who had enjoyed an unheroic war continued to feel pangs of guilt, and we all congratulated ourselves on having survived the Blitz, bread rationing ... and clothes on coupons.... It was also the time when the only sentence available for murder was death.”

A former RAF bomber pilot and his tail-gunner friend are found shot to death in their modest bungalow homes in South London, the morning after a boisterous reunion party of old squadron members living in the area. The pilot’s 21-year-old son was seen quarreling with his father at the party, threatening him with one of his own war trophies, a German pistol. Things look bleak for the young man. Worse yet, the lawyer engaged to conduct his defense is none other than Rumpole’s future father-in-law, Wystan, a complacent old duffer far more interested in currying favor with judges than in defending his clients:

“C.H. Wystan was in no way a bad man. In fact he treated me ... with a sort of remote and distant kindness. The trouble was that he regarded the whole business of being a barrister, and following in what he called ‘the fine traditions and great fellowship of the bar’ (such rules as ‘We don’t shake hands’ or ‘We don’t lunch with our instructing solicitor’), as more important than the Bill of Rights or the presumption of innocence.”

Fortunately for the defendant, young Horace Rumpole, pluckily defying the musty shibboleths of the legal profession, manages to jump in, take over the case and bring the truth to light. In the process of doing so, he embraces the values and principles that will continue to guide his career, summoning up the distinctive qualities and the uniquely individual style that will become his trademark.

Readers who love Rumpole are certain to relish this book, for it’s full of everything one expects from Mortimer: clever satire, polished writing, a good story, colorful characters, playful humor and a serious concern for justice.

Indeed, coming on the heels of last year’s “Rumpole and the Primrose Path,” an engaging but rather thin collection of stories which featured an aging Rumpole refusing to remain in retirement, “Rumpole and the Penge Bungalow Murders” is a considerably more ambitious and substantial effort. Not only a good story in itself, it also broadens and deepens our understanding of Rumpole’s character, which, if not exactly a mystery, is something of a puzzle.

What, for instance, is the story behind his far from idyllic marriage to the formidable Hilda: How, we may have wondered, did this otherwise independent-minded fellow, certainly neither a social climber nor a careerist, come to marry the boss’ daughter? In this book, pieces of the puzzle finally fall into place.

The Rumpole we all know is so much the quintessential curmudgeon -- crusty, rotund, grandiloquent, set in his ways -- is it possible to imagine him young?

Indeed it is, and therein lies one of the real pleasures of this cleverly conceived, highly satisfying novel.

Merle Rubin is a contributing writer to Book Review.