30 Books in 30 Days, Vol. 2
Book 12/30
The ending has made this one of my favorite Christies. You’d think eventually I’d stop being stymied by this woman’s writing, a woman who started writing mysteries a hundred years ago at this point, but it has yet to happen. Maybe I am just terrible at figuring out mysteries, but it’s probably that Christie was just that good. (Or both.)
This one started out pretty standard for me. Poirot is called to do something a little unusual when he meets a famous actress whose husband refuses to grant her a divorce. She asks him to plead with the husband for her. He agrees. The next day, he is dead. Poirot finds himself in the unique position of providing an alibi of sorts. In addition, the estranged wife was at a dinner with twelve other people that night at the time of the murder, when she was also seen by a maid entering the dead man’s room. Who killed Lord Edgware?
I thought I had figured it out about 25% in but then something happened that made me convinced that I was wrong, just like Christie wanted, and I fell for it like a chump. I spent the rest of the book going, but what happened then?? Just like Poirot and fellow empty-head Hastings (Hastings, don’t you have a wife? Where is she? Why do you have so much free time to spend and get insulted by Poirot?)
And then at the end I was like SON OF A BITCH. I was right! Well, half right. But she was so clever about it I still felt like I was wrong. Love it when that happens.
