A Stranger in My Grave
Margaret Millar | International Polygonics | 1960 | 311 pages
“Well, I’m not a good little girl anymore, and I no longer trust my husband or my mother to decide what’s best for me.”
A recurring nightmare of her own grave, with a date of death four years past, leads young housewife Daisy Harker to investigate her own repressed memory, and ultimately discover a shocking family history.
Daisy’s chance encounter with Stevens Pinata, a private investigator who bonded her estranged father out of jail, triggers an impulsive hire to recount the events of December 02, 1955 – the date of her dream “death”. Sure that the details will unlock the buried secrets of her nightmare, Daisy pursues her investigation over the insistent objections of her career-oriented husband and domineering mother. The case amounts to more than an exercise for Daisy, since her barren marriage and unhappy family life already seem to represent something akin to a waking death.
Daisy and Pinata are hardly traditional genre sleuths, however, and the mystery here first hinted in Daisy’s dream slowly unravels to expose a dysfunctional family drama rather than a hard-boiled noir or a parlor whodunit—although a murder is eventually involved. The inherent racism directed at the Hispanic residents of the fictional Southern California city of San Felice, a thinly veiled Santa Barbara, also informs the heart of secret dealings to obfuscate the wellspring of the mystery fueling Daisy’s subconscious.
Daisy allows herself to drop the forced smile she is always required to wear, revealing her true personal feelings underneath, the dark reality in a sunny place—so perhaps A Stranger in My Grave is more noir than observed at first glance.
Daisy’s conveniently repressed memory withholds much critical information, essentially creating a fog that allows the entire mystery to exist, but the conceit is compelling enough to drive interest in the resolution. Many of the individual scenes vividly illustrate the lives of the characters trapped in their own unhappy lives, including a young mother of six banging and breaking through her religious zealot mother’s locked bedroom door with a crucifix.
A rather awkwardly derived romance suddenly blooms late in the proceedings, creating an arbitrary happy ending for characters that have little contextual chance for one.