Murder by the Book

Agatha Christie’s representatives urge that she publish the manuscript she wrote thirty-five years ago, a novel in which she finally kills off her most famous creation. And it’s not an entirely sad occasion. "That wretched little man," she says. "He’s always been so much trouble. How is it Miss Marple has never upset me at all, not ever?" That night, the wretched little man himself, Hercule Poirot, appears at her doorstep. The great fictional detective and his creator proceed to play a very Christie-like game of cat and mouse for the manuscript—and for their own lives.