The breeze was crisp. She turned toward it, her hands jammed into the jacket pockets. I wanted her carved on the bow of my next clipper ship, but it would have to be a good guy to capture the way that silvery hair moved in the wind.

John D. MacDonald actually wrote in various genres before finding his niche in mystery fiction. His first published mystery novel, in 1950, was The Brass Cupcake. I had read it before, and remembered it positively. But it’s clearly an immature work, and a little derivative.

The title is the narrator’s joking nickname for a policeman’s badge. He is Cliff Bartells, an insurance investigator in the fictional (I think) town of Florence City, Florida, somewhere near Tampa. He used to carry a badge himself, but he left the Florence City police force because of its prevailing corruption. Now he has a reputation for brokering the recovery of stolen property – it’s cost-effective for both the criminals and the insurers to buy the stuff back rather than paying out full settlements. He’s trusted by the crooks, because he never informs on them.

Only now a case has come up that’s a whole different matter. A wealthy old woman has been murdered in a jewel robbery. When he hears from the thieves, Cliff’s position is impossible – if he doesn’t betray the robbers, the local police (who hate him) will arrest him as an accessory. And if he does betray them, his professional reputation will be shot.

Then there’s a further complication – the old woman’s beautiful niece and heir. They dislike each other on first meeting, only to find themselves irresistibly drawn together. The police suspect them both. Can he trust her? Can he trust anyone?

It’s easy to see why author MacDonald impressed his publishers with this book. It’s almost ideal for its time – a tough-guy story with a principled hero in a bad spot, featuring fights and police beatings and a little sex (mild by our standards). Noir cinema seems to have been an inspiration: “I pushed the draperies back so that the neon sent its pale redness into the room, off and on, off and on, the furniture bulking oddly large in the intermittent shadow.” I have an idea the story may have been inspired in part by James M. Cain – though that’s an ignorant opinion, as I’ve never read Cain.

The book’s age is made apparent in several ways, not only in the cars and the smoking – but especially in the featured idea that women (or some women, anyway) need a slap or two to figure out what they really want.

Anyway, that’s The Brass Cupcake. Underdeveloped MacDonald, but certainly entertaining and worth a read.