Agatha Christie wrote roughly eighty novels and short-story collections over the course of her life, so one could read one of her books every now and then and never run out. That's what I do: read maybe one or two a year. My latest was Peril at End House, and it was another good one. And, no, even though Dame Christie played fair with the clues, I didn't guess the killer (yet again).
This one was interesting because there wasn't so much a killer but a would-be killer. A young pretty heiress, with the cute name of Nick Buckley, has had several clumsy attempts made on her life, and has been shrugging them off as weird accidents. Master detective Hercule Poirot, who has met Ms. Buckley by chance because the hotel where he is vacationing is located near the Buckley estate, begs to differ.
So the bulk of this fast-paced novel involves Poirot attempting to prevent further attempts on Ms. Buckley's life while trying to ascertain who is trying to kill her and why. The stakes are eventually raised when a collateral death (not Ms. Buckley's) does occur, making the brilliant Poirot take things personally. How dare someone have the temerity to kill someone right under the detective's nose?
Needless to say, not everything is as it seems, and that can eventually be frustrating when one fails to detect the skillfully-placed distractions and false paths. But that's okay: along the way it's all very moody and dramatic and entertaining. So, all in all, I quite enjoyed Peril at End House, even though I was once again stumped.
"Peril at End House" was originally published in the early 1930's but has never gone out of print. It is also available on Kindle and in various audiobook editions.
