The Heiress, the Hooker and the Mystery Woman

Daughters of Desire
Fletcher Knight
Toronto: News Stand Library, 1950

"This is the most colourful and perhaps zaniest city in Canada," Montreal newspaperman Al Thomas says in the opening pages. So why move the action elsewhere?

Most of Daughters of Desire takes place on a private island in the Bahamas or aboard a yacht bound for same. Al is not along for the ride. We see the reporter only in the first and final chapters. Our initial sighting has him trying to make Dorothy, his wife's hot cousin, in a Montreal nightclub. Al's role is to provide backstory for the main characters seated at the next table: spoiled rich girl Carol King and high-class hooker Summer Day. An unlikely pair, they've been brought together by Lester Ogden, the latest in Carol's long line of frustrated fiancés. "She's probably Lester's idea of a bizarre and sophisticated gesture for the evening," says Al in reference to Summer.

The promised ménage à trios never materializes; Lester's only trying to shake things up a little. Carol wants to break off their engagement and he just can't have that. To Lester, Carol is much more than a redheaded looker, she's an heiress who will act as insurance if he's ever cut out of his own inheritance.

"This is my last night of the season and I always get drunk on the last night of the season," says Summer. Carol's drunk, too, which may explain why she's making a play for one of the club's "pansy" dancers. Lester interrupts his fiancée's pursuit by appealing to her penchant for gambling. He bets Carol $5000 that she won't be able to get the captain of his Uncle Henry's yacht to propose marriage. Carol, who thinks she's all that, ups the ante by promising to marry Lester if she fails.

The rich are different from you and me.

Uncle Henry, one of Montreal's wealthiest men, was a handsome fellow until polio disfigured. Now he stews cruising here and there in a magnificent yacht manned by a crew of mangled men. Captain Michael Cameron, he of the strong jawline, is an exception. A man with mommy issues, Michael was on a path to the priesthood before being knocked off-course by a nineteen-year-old temptress. To get back on track he's limited his contact to the crew of ugly men. Effeminate fourteen-year-old Cabin Boy Tommy Buttons – yes, Buttons – does not tempt.

Drunken Carol and her new BFF, bleached blonde Summer Day, sneak aboard the yacht. Though they're discovered the next morning, the voyage continues uninterrupted. They won't be afforded an opportunity to disembark before the next port of call: Uncle Henry's secluded Bahamian island.

Daughters of Desire is meant to be a mystery, I guess. The yacht's cook, goes missing, and Carol is attacked repeatedly by a man whose face is hidden by a "seaman's helmet". Some credit is due the author in that the sole suspect ends up being the baddie. The only surprise comes with the reappearance of newspaperman Al and his wife's sexy cousin in the final chapter. One year later, they find themselves sipping cocktails in the very same Montreal nightclub. At Dorothy's urging, the reporter fills her in on everything that happened between Carol and her fiancé, thus bringing the reader up to date.

Daughters of Desire bored. Setting it down, I couldn't help but wonder about the cover. Illustrator D. Rickard depicts three women: redhead Carol, faux-blonde Summer and… well, the third can only be "darkly glamorous" Dorothy. The scene depicted does not feature in the novel; she never so much as meets Carol and Summer. Why elevate her to such a level? Dorothy features in just fifteen of the novel's pages, though her bit part is crucial. It's her notice of the heiress in the opening chapter that prompts Al to launch into Carol's story:

"What a beautiful woman," Dorothy said suddenly, looking over her shoulder, "with the gorgeous red hair."

Dorothy seems positively fixated on the heiress, pressing Al for information:

     "I gather she hasn't a marriage to her credit."
     Al drew expansively his cigar and coughed a little. "Nope. A clean slate. And I'm not even sure she sleeps with her boy blues. There are those who say yea and those who say nay."
     "Tried it once and didn't get it," Dorothy murmured.
     "Eh?"
     "Nothing, nothing, just mumbling," Dorothy smiled sweetly.

One year later, Dorothy remembers Carol well – "She was the most beautiful red head I've ever seen." – and the questions resume.

I'm now wondering whether Al's failure to bed Dorothy might have nothing to do with the fact that she's his wife's cousin? Could it be that Dorothy is a daughter of sapphic desire? Or am I just making this justly ignored novel out to be much more interesting than it really is?

Trivia: The only Canadian novel I've read to feature a "blackface" performance.

 

Object: A 159-page poorly produced mass market paperback. The thing isn't even rectangular.

Access: Just two copies are listed for sale online – at US$2.95 and US$7.50, both are bargains. Library and Archives Canada has one. That's it.