Being the musings of a Yorkshire lass living in the USA. I'm a book geek, bird nerd, grammar Nazi, and hockey nut. Sarcasm is my default setting.
My librarian said this was one of her favorite Christies, and I can see why.
It's quite dark in tone, and has a world-weary Poirot at the end of his career. But the fabulous Ariadne Oliver adds plenty of light relief.
And I was waaaaay off with my deductions as to whodunnit.