The tranquillity of a cruise along the Nile was shattered by the discovery that Linnet Ridgeway had been shot through the head. She was young, stylish and beautiful. A girl who had everything... until she lost her life.
Hercule Poirot recalled an earlier outburst by a fellow passenger: 'I'd like to put my dear little pistol against her head and just press the trigger.' Yet in this exotic setting nothing was ever quite what it seemed...
First there was the mystery of the film star and the diamond . . . then came the "suicide" that was murder . . . the mystery of the absurdly cheap flat . . . a suspicious death in a locked gun room . . . a milliondollar bond robbery . . . the curse of a pharaoh's tomb . . . a jewel robbery by the sea . . . the abduction of a prime minister . . . the disappearance of a banker . . . a phone call from a dying man . . . and, finally, the mystery of the missing will.
What links these fascinating cases? Only the brilliant deductive powers of Hercule Poirot!
Agatha Christie's most daring crime mystery - an early and particularly brilliant outing of Hercule Poirot, 'The Murder of Roger Ackroyd', with its legendary twist, changed the detective fiction genre for ever.
Roger Ackroyd knew too much. He knew that the woman he loved had poisoned her brutal first husband. He suspected also that someone had been blackmailing her. Now, tragically, came the news that she had taken her own life with a drug overdose.
But the evening post brought Roger one last fatal scrap of information. Unfortunately, before he could finish the letter, he was stabbed to death...
Linnet Ridgeway has led a charmed life. Blessed with beauty, enormous wealth and a devoted husband, she has everything anyone could wish for. But as the happy couple set out on an idyllic honeymoon cruise on the Nile, storm clouds are gathering... Linnet's former friend, Jacqueline de Bellefort, follows her and Simon wherever they go and Linnet senses she is in danger. At first her fears seem groundless. But an attempt is made first on her life and then on her husband's. Eventually the killer is successful, and Linnet is found horribly murdered. With an obvious suspect who cannot possibly have committed the crime, it is up to Hercule Poirot to probe the depths of a remarkable criminal mind and discover the dark secret behind what is only the first in a series of inexplicable deaths.
Late one night, two teachers investigate a mysterious flashing light in the sports pavilion while the rest of the school sleeps. There, among the lacrosse sticks, they stumble upon the body of an unpopular games mistress-shot through the heart point-blank.
The school is thrown into chaos when the "cat" strikes again. Unfortunately, schoolgirl Julia Upjohn knows too much. In particular, she knows that without Hercule Poirot's help, she will be the next victim....
Agatha Christie's personal memoirs about her travels to Syria and Iraq in the 1930s with her archaeologist husband Max Mallowan, where she worked on the digs and wrote some of her most evocative novels.Think you know Agatha Christie? Think again!To the world she was Agatha Christie, legendary author of bestselling whodunits. But in the 1930s she wore a different hat, travelling with her husband, renowned archaeologist Max Mallowan, as he investigated the buried ruins and ancient wonders of Syria and Iraq. When friends asked what this strange 'other life' was like, she decided to answer their questions by writing down her adventures in this eye-opening book.Described by the author as a 'meandering chronicle of life on an archaeological dig', Come, Tell Me How You Live is Agatha Christie's very personal memoir of her time spent in this breathtaking corner of the globe, living among the working men in tents in the desert where recorded human history began. Acclaimed as 'a pure pleasure to read', it is an altogether remarkable and increasingly poignant narrative, a fascinating, vibrant and vivid portrait of everyday life in a world now long since vanished.
Mr. Shaitana is famous as a flamboyant party host. Nevertheless, he is a man of whom everybody is a little afraid. So when he boasts to Hercule Poirot that he considers murder an art form, the detective has some reservations about accepting a party invitation to view Shaitana's "private collection."
Indeed, what begins as an absorbing evening of bridge is to turn into a more dangerous game altogether....
Hercule Poirot stood on the clifftop. Here, many years earlier, there had been a fatal accident. This was followed by the grisly discovery of two bodies-a husband and wife who had been shot dead.
But who had killed whom? Was it a suicide pact? A crime of passion? Or cold-blooded murder? Poirot delves into the past and discovers that "old sins leave long shadows."
One minute, silly Heather Babcock had been babbling on at her movie idol, the glamorous Marina Gregg. The next, Heather suffered a massive seizure, poisoned by a deadly cocktail.
It seems likely that the cocktail was intended for the beautiful actress. But while the police fumble to find clues, Miss Marple begins to ask her own questions, because as she knows-even the most peaceful village can hide dark secrets.
Lymstock is a town with more than its share of shameful secrets-a town where even a sudden outbreak of anonymous hate mail causes only a minor stir.
But all that changes when one of the recipients, Mrs. Symmington, commits suicide. Her final note says "I can't go on," but Miss Marple questions the coroner's verdict of suicide. Soon nobody is sure of anyone-as secrets stop being shameful and start becoming deadly.
Just after midnight, a snowdrift stopped the Orient Express in its tracks. The luxurious train was surprisingly full for the time of the year. But by the morning there was one passenger fewer. An American lay dead in his compartment, stabbed a dozen times, his door locked from the inside.
With tension mounting, detective Hercule Poirot comes up with not one, but two solutions to the crime.
Poirot had been present when Jane bragged of her plan to 'get rid of' her estranged husband. Now the monstrous man was dead. And yet the great Belgian detective couldn't help feeling that he was being taken for a ride.
After all, how could Jane have stabbed Lord Edgware to death in his library at exactly the same time she was seen dining with friends? And what could be her motive not that the aristocrat had finally granted her a divorce?
