Agatha Christie Bingo
So, yesterday I finished reading “After The Funeral” which was Agatha Christie’s 44th crime fiction novel of the 66 she managed to write and publish. This means I’m officially two thirds of my way through reading all her novels in a year. Though Pandemic-related brain fog means I can barely remember who killed who two novels back, I feel I now have a reasonable grasp on Dame Christie’s oeuvre. Unless she developed a late career change of approach I’m pretty confident what follows will hold true for the final third of #MyYearWithAgathaC For any of you who are reading along, here is a list of forty distinctive, (and occasionally repetitive) features, which appear at some point in all her novels. Read one of AC’s books. Give yourself a point for every feature you identify. If you get more than twenty you’re probably reading “And Then There Were None.” *
A formally magnificent, now rundown mansion in a rural setting, ideally with a stodgy name eg. The Piles.
A sleeping draught or liver capsules.
A long lost cousin/brother/aunt who turns up unexpectedly and isn’t actually who they say they are.
A parish fete/bake sale/jumble.
A woman with a ridiculous nick name eg. Bunky, Plum or Tibs.
Cold viands.
A junior maid who’s stepping out with a ne’er do well from the village.
A key character who cultivates poisons for a hobby.
Bridge, both the playing and discussing of.
An archaeological artefact which may or may not be the murder weapon.
A fragment of a burnt note found, still smoking, in the grate.
Something St Mary or St Mary Something.
A well-placed, and reasonably sinister, quote from a nursery rhyme.
Anglicans.
Casual xenophobia
Casual misogyny.
Connecting doors.
A stout and sensible women in tweeds.
The phrase, “of course, servants aren’t what they used to be.”
A telegram from the Colonies.
The hiding of diamonds.
Someone who likes to listen at doors and pays for it.
A retired Colonel with a drinking problem.
Fish paste sandwiches or a nice jam tart.
Either Girl Guides or Nuns, (never the twain shall meet).
A young woman who, in the last two paragraphs, realises she’s in love with the chap she’s spent most of the novel loathing.
A conveniently placed alcove.
A thespian: amateur, professional, retired or failed.
A shocking change to the old boy’s will.
A rakish young man who sleeps in until eleven and yet still expects breakfast to be kept for him.
A clock or watch smashed during the murder.
A foreigner who sounds like Yoda when he speaks.
A working class man who sounds like the Artful Dodger when he speaks.
A nephew (preferably more than one).
A trunk call from or to London.
Poirot called French/Miss Marple excused as an interfering old pussy.
One or more servants who conveniently take their afternoon off on the day of the murder.
Someone whose alibi is being on a boat from America at the time of the murder.
A firm of solicitors where at least two of the partners share the same name eg. Fluxelby, Jones and Fluxelby.
A ludicrously complicated and theatrical plan for committing murder when something much simpler would have sufficed.
I don’t know if Agatha Christie Bingo will work for Death Comes At The End on account of it being set in Ancient Egypt rather than Chipping St Mary circa 1943.
** I was looking for a nice murderous image to illustrate this post and fortuitously stumbled across this example of vegecide from last year’s Veggie Treasure Hunt at Hillsborough Festival. Worryingly, the onion killer is still at large.