In this story, Colonel and Mrs Bantry awake one morning to find that the dead body of a woman unknown to them is lying on the hearth rug of their library. Who is she? Who strangled her? And why is she in their house? The first question is answered relatively quickly: she's the cousin of a dancer at a the Majestic Hotel in nearby Danemouth. But the other two questions can't be answered without the help of Miss Marple and her endless knowledge of human wickedness.
Here's a funny thing: about 30 years ago I thought I might write a mystery novel. Everyone thinks they want to write a book at some point or another, right? I never got farther than mentally composing a one-sentence premise, but I think my idea must have been heavily influenced by the beginning of this book (though I didn’t realize it at the time, because of course I didn't actually have an active memory of this book or its plot).
Did I guess whodunnit? Sort of. I suspected 5 (or maybe 6?) people, and wasn’t sure which one(s) were really the killer(s). Could have been any combination of them, to my mind. So while I did guess at the truth, I also guessed at several red herrings, and it’s kind of cheating to allow myself so many guesses. I might as well suspect all the characters--if I do that, I'll be right every time!
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"Ah, good conversation--there's nothing like it, is there? The air of ideas is the only air worth breathing." --M. Rivière to Newland Archer, The Age of Innocence