Curtain: Poirot's Last Case: Hercule Poirot Investigates (Hercule Poirot series Book 39)
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The Queen of Mystery has come to Harper Collins! Agatha Christie, the acknowledged mistress of suspense—creator of indomitable sleuth Miss Marple, meticulous Belgian detective Hercule Poirot, and so many other unforgettable characters—brings her entire oeuvre of ingenious whodunits, locked room mysteries, and perplexing puzzles to Harper Paperbacks. The legendary detective saves his best for last as he races to apprehend a five-time killer before the final curtain descends in Curtain: Poirot’s Last Case.
I said, stammering slightly: “No—no—I haven’t. I’ve always thought of him as absolutely wrapped up in his work.” “So he is.” “Do you call that unhappiness? I should have said it was the happiest state imaginable.” “Oh yes, I’m not disputing it—but not if you’re hampered from doing what you feel it’s in you to do. If you can’t, that is to say, produce your best.” I looked at her, feeling rather puzzled. She went on to explain: “Last autumn Dr. Franklin was offered the chance of going out to
“Did the thought occur to you of your own accord, or did someone else suggest it to you?” “Allerton said something of the kind,” I said resentfully. “He would, of course.” “Anyone else?” “Boyd Carrington suggested it.” “Ah! Boyd Carrington.” “And after all, he’s a man of the world and has experience of these things.” “Oh, quite so, quite so. He did not see the thing happen, though?” “No, he’d gone for a walk. Bit of exercise before changing for dinner.” “I see.” I said uneasily: “I
personal angle, was of my way of thinking. Franklin, the modern scientific thinker, was, strangely enough, resolutely opposed to divorce. It offended, apparently, his ideal of clear-cut thinking and action. One assumed certain responsibilities. Those must be carried through and not shirked or set aside. A contract, he said, is a contract. One enters upon it of one’s own free will, and must abide by it. Anything else resulted in what he called a mess. Loose ends, half-dissolved ties. Leaning back
up. It was Judith. She went past us to the window and out upon the bacony. I said, as I wrote the last clue in: “Even love can’t be an anagram. The second letter now is ‘A.’ ” “What’s the clue again?” “Even love or third party risk? Blank A and six blanks.” “Paramour,” said Boyd Carrington. I heard the teaspoon rattle on Barbara Franklin’s saucer. I went on to the next clue. “ ‘Jealousy is a green-eyed monster,’ this person said.” “Shakespeare,” said Boyd Carrington. “Was it Othello or
vulnerable. “With Judith, Norton was far more successful. He played very cleverly on the theme of useless lives. It was an article of faith with Judith—and the fact that her secret desires were in accordance with it was a fact that she ignored stridently whilst Norton knew it to be an ally. He was very clever about it—taking himself the opposite point of view, gently ridiculing the idea that she would ever have the nerve to do such a decisive action. ‘It is the kind of thing that all young