It’s finally time for fiction, for murder, for mystery, for butler’s and brandy…and lots of dead bodies. I put my glasses on for this. Maybe afterwards you can tell me why the candlestick is in the conservatory. Why the hell there’s a noose in the dining room. I’m starting to think this isn’s a dinner party.

And Then There Were None

The Mysterious Case of Agatha Christie

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd

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