“The Murder at the Vicarage” by Agatha Christie

It’s no secret that I love Agatha Christie mysteries. But it has to have been more than 14 years since I last read one. (The only reason I'm sure of this is because of my trusty blog. Since 2009, I would not have read a book without mentioning it here, and the only Christie book that appears on my blog is a Reading in Retrospect title: books I read before I started my blog, but kept notes on, and at some point I used those notes to create a blog post.)

My Agatha Christie reading was never very systematic. I have no idea how many of her 66 mysteries I've read, I certainly didn't go in any sort of order, and--excluding a small handful, probably comprising the ones I read more than once--with my memory (or lack thereof) it's as if I never read them at all; the only thing that remains is the certainty that I've always found the plots clever and enjoyable and compelling. 

We have recently enjoyed watching all three of Kenneth Branagh's Christie adaptations, and on the heels of that, my lovely husband surprised me with ALL FOURTEEN Miss Marple mysteries for my birthday. So of course I got started right away! Miss Marple makes her debut in the one where the vicar, Leonard Clement, returns home one evening to find Colonel Protheroe in his study as expected, though (quite unexpectedly, to be sure!) the colonel is dead, a bullet wound in the back of his head. But wouldn't you know it? Len's next door neighbor is none other than the intrepid Jane Marple. Who solves the mystery, of course, though it takes her three days and 298 pages. 

Did I guess whodunnit? No. I suspected the poor vicar all the way through, and I feel a bit guilty about that. And even if he didn’t commit the murder, I suspected him of peculation. But it’s his own fault. If you’re not the culprit, you shouldn’t have such a shifty demeanor! There were a few others I briefly suspected in a minor manner, though I won't list them all for fear of spoiling it for you. But I will confirm I had written the murderer off as innocent!

Remember how I was just saying I must be reading all the wrong books? Yeah, this was one of them. And there are thirteen more to come. But they're such fun, and it's still reading. It's not like they'll make my brain get fat.