‘Christie In A Year’ officially ends yesterday. Seventy-five books reviewed, eleven titles remain (eight books and three plays). Six of Mary Westmacott’s, too.
Last night I heard Mrs. Boyle (The Mousetrap) shout in my head. ‘You’ve got to find who murdered me!’ She was a grumpy old woman, complaining at every opportunity to Molly Ralston about the guest house.
Then Jane Marple appeared while Sherlock Holmes was dying on the box (the third episode of Sherlock Third Series ‘His Last Vow.’). ‘…All my eye and Betty Martin,’ she said to Edward Rossiter and Charmian Stroud (Strange Jest in Miss Marple’s Final Cases). The elderly’s blue eyes twinkled in response to the others’ frowning in awe.
I shook my head as I was brushing my teeth, for the image of Captain Hastings had conjured up in the mirror in front of me. He had just been awake in a chair in which he had slept at. He had meant to wait for Major Allerton, but fell asleep instead. ‘Who was it who wrote, “The darkest day, lived till tomorrow, will have passed away?” And how true it is….’Reflecting, he said those words to himself and felt relieved that he did not kill the major. Hastings did not look at me, for he then got up and washed. It was as if he was telling me: ‘Mind, I do not know yet the killer in this house.’ Curtain, Poirot’s Last Case is the culminating point of the Belgian’s career.
This morning I woke up feeling just like Hasting’s: cramped and uncomfortable. For Parker Pyne has not been mentioned and Verdict and Go Back For Murder are the two plays known little. Not to mention Christie’s other identity as as Mary Westmacott.
And what news of the day than her face cream that helped restore the lustre of 3,000 year old ivory carvings?
Readers, I must continue. Please bear with me.