As the author recognised by the Agatha Christie Estate Sophie Hannah has over the past few years delivered a very enjoyable quartet of books that never stray too far away from the formula that has insured there are more Hecule Poirot books in circulation throughout the world than actual population figures for some countries. This one assuredly continues that pleasing and winning streak by putting before Poirot that which fans of the books enjoy; a varied cast of suspicious characters, some questionably accurate narration of events not seen, twists and turns, dead ends and red herrings galore.
Poirot and his companion and side kick Detective Catchpole find themselves undercover at a wealthy estate and confronted by two confessions to the same murder. Someone is lying and everyone else is hiding their own motivations as events unfold and the mysteries deepen. One death is followed by another as a hideously entitled bunch of wealthy people endeavour to fog the pathway out of this confusing state. Witnesses to events provide the most unreliable accounts and suspects dither as more blood soaks the floor boards of Kingfisher Hill.
This has proved to be a successful and enjoyable series by Sophie Hannah, already a respected author with her own work before the Agatha Christie Estate charged her with carrying the torch for Mrs Christie's most prolific creation. I had thought the series might best be served by a rotation of different writers as the Ian Fleming Estate do with Mr Bond, yet Sophie Hannah has proved herself to be an astute choice. Agatha Christie made murder seem easy which off course it is not. but she was not afraid to play with the format itself as she realised, probably, that death is never enough. Which the massive sales of her books acting as testament to this spirit of invention. Only religous texts have generated more in terms of sales.
What does that tell us about ourselves as a species?
