Showing results by author "Agatha Christie" in All Categories

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.

As Jane Marple sat basking in the Caribbean sunshine she felt mildly discontented with life. True, the warmth eased her rheumatism, but here in paradise nothing ever happened. Eventually, her interest was aroused by an old soldier's yarn about a strange coincidence. Infuriatingly, just as he was about to show her an astonishing photograph, the Major's attention wandered. He never did finish the story.

In utter disbelief Miss Marple read the letter addressed to her from the recently deceased Mr Rafiel—an acquaintance she had met briefly on her travels. Recognising in Miss Marple a natural flair for justice, Mr Rafiel had left instructions for her to investigate a crime after his death. The only problem was, he had failed to tell her who was involved or where and when the crime had been committed. It was most intriguing.

Hercule Poirot stood on the cliff-top. For here, many years earlier, there had been a tragic accident: the broken body of a woman was discovered on the rocks at the foot of the cliff. This was followed by the grisly discovery of two more bodies, a husband and wife, shot dead. But who had killed whom? Was it a suicide pact? A crime of passion? Or cold-blooded murder?

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 million dollar bond robbery...the curse of a pharoah'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.

From seat No.9, Hercule Poirot was ideally placed to observe his fellow air passengers. Over to his right sat a pretty young woman, ahead, across the gangway in seat No.8, a detective writer was being troubled by an aggressive wasp. What Poirot did not yet realize was that behind him, in seat No.2, sat the slumped, lifeless body of a woman.

Thirteen guests arrived at dinner at the actor's house. It was to be a particularly unlucky evening for the mild-mannered Reverend Stephen Babbington, who choked on his cocktail, went into convulsions and died. But when his martini glass was sent for chemical analysis, there was no trace of poison, just as Poirot had predicted. Even more troubling for the great detective, there was absolutely no motive.

Three single girls shared the same London flat. The first worked as a secretary; the second was an artist; the third, who came to Poirot for help, disappeared, convinced she was a murderer. Now there were rumours of revolvers, flick-knives, and blood stains. But, without hard evidence, it would take all Poirot's tenacity to establish whether the third girl was guilty, innocent - or insane.

Beautiful Caroline Crale was convicted of poisoning her husband, yet there were five other suspects: Philip Blake (the stockbroker) who went to market; Meredith Blake (the amateur herbalist) who stayed at home; Elsa Greer (the three-time divorcee) who had roast beef; Cecilia Williams (the devoted governess) who had none; and Angela Warren (the disfigured sister) who cried ‘wee wee wee’ all the way home.It is sixteen years later, but Hercule Poirot just can’t get that nursery rhyme out of his mind…

An urgent cry for help brings Poirot to France. But he arrives too late to save his client, whose brutally stabbed body now lies face downwards in a shallow grave on a golf course. But why is the dead man wearing his son's overcoat? And who was the impassioned love-letter in the pocket for? Before Poirot can answer these questions, the case is turned upside down by the discovery of a second, identically murdered corpse.

It is Egypt, 2000 BC, where death gives meaning to life. At the foot of a cliff lies the broken, twisted body of Nofret, concubine to a Ka-priest. Young, beautiful, and venomous, most agree that she deserved to die like a snake. Yet Renisenb, the priest's daughter, believes that the woman's death was not fate, but murder. Increasingly, she becomes convinced that the source of evil lurks within her own father's household.

Baghdad is the chosen location for a secret summit of superpowers, concerned but not convinced, about the development of an, as yet, unidentified and undescribed secret weapon. Only one man has the proof that can confirm the nature of this fantastic secret weapon, a British agent named Carmichael. Unfortunately the criminal organisation responsible for the weapon's development will stop at nothing to prevent him entering Baghdad and presenting his proof to the assembled delegates.

Twelve BBC Radio 4 full-cast dramatisations of short stories by the Queen of Crime. First broadcast in the early 2000s, the stories were adapted and brought up-to-date for a contemporary audience. The stories are 'Philomel Cottage'; 'Swan Song'; 'Magnolia Blossom'; 'Witness for the Prosecution'; 'The Gates of Baghdad'; 'The Hounds of Death'; 'In a Glass Darkly'; 'The Dressmaker's Doll'; 'The Case of the Perfect Carer'; 'The £199 Adventure'; 'The Gypsy'; and 'The Last Seance'. Duration: 6 hours approx.

What is the connection between a failed suicide attempt, a wrongful accusation of theft against a schoolgirl, and the romantic life of a famous tennis player? To the casual observer, apparently nothing. But when a houseparty gathers at Gull's Point, the seaside home of an elderly widow, earlier events come to a dramatic head. It's all part of a carefully paid plan for murder.

The gruesome death of Mrs McGinty provokes Superintendent Spence to seek the help of his old ally Hercule Poirot. The victim’s young lodger has been found guilty and is due to hang. But Spence is not convinced by the circumstantial evidence which influenced the verdict. So, at considerable personal discomfort, Poirot goes down to the sleepy village where the old lady lived and where, by chance, his good friend Ariadne Oliver is also staying.

When Miss Marple comes up from the country for a holiday in London, she finds what she's looking for at Bertram's Hotel: traditional decor, impeccable service, and an unmistakable atmosphere of danger behind the highly polished veneer.

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.

The villagers of Chipping Cleghorn, including Miss Marple, are agog with curiosity over an advertisement in the local gazette which reads: ‘A murder is announced and will take place on Friday October 29th, at Little Paddocks at 6.30 p.m.' A childish practical joke? Or a hoax intended to scare poor Letitia Blacklock? Unable to resist the mysterious invitation, a crowd begins to gather at Little Paddocks at the appointed time when, without warning, the lights go out.

Agatha Christie is recognized throughout the world as the writer of remarkable country house mysteries and ingenious murders set in faraway countries. Yet many of her books and stories were set in the city she new best and for many years called home: London. From Poirot's flat in Whitehaven Mansions to Scotland Yard, the Old Bailey to Harley Street, Lyons Tea Rooms to the Savoy, Paddington Station to the London Underground, Agatha Christie knew and loved London, and mined it for its rich seam of storytelling opportunities.

It was not unusual to find the beautiful bronzed body of the sun-loving Arlena Stuart stretched out on a beach, face down. Only, on this occasion, there was no sun...she had been strangled. Ever since Arlena's arrival at the resort, Hercule Poirot had detected sexual tension in the seaside air. But could this apparent 'crime of passion' have been something more evil and premeditated altogether?