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Dead Man's Folly [Secure eReader (recommended)/Mobipocket/Microsoft Reader/Adobe Reader 7]
eBook by Agatha Christie
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eBook Category: Mystery/Crime
eBook Description:  Whilst organising a mock murder hunt for the village fete hosted by Sir George and Lady Stubbs, a feeling of dread settles on the famous crime novelist Adriane Oliver. Call it instinct, but it's a feeling she just can't explain--or get away from. In desperation she summons her old friend, Hercule Poirot--and her instincts are soon proved correct when the 'pretend' murder victim is discovered playing the scene for real, a rope wrapped tightly around her neck.... But it's the great detective who first discovers that in murder hunts, whether mock or real, everyone is playing a part....
eBook Publisher: Harper Collins, Inc./PerfectBound
Fictionwise Release Date: July 2005
16 Reader Ratings:
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Available eBook Formats [Secure eReader (recommended)/Mobipocket/Microsoft Reader/Adobe Reader 7 - What's this?]: SECURE MOBIPOCKET FORMAT (220 KB], SECURE MICROSOFT READER FORMAT (324 KB] - Requires Microsoft Reader 2.1.1 for PCs, or Microsoft Reader 2.2.2 on Pocket PC 2002 handheld devices. Some older Pocket PCs can be upgraded. Learn More., SECURE EREADER (RECOMMENDED) FORMAT (190 KB], SECURE ADOBE READER 7 FORMAT (1.6 MB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [405 KB]
Secure Adobe Reader 7: Printing enabled, Read-aloud enabled
Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
eReader (recommended) ISBN: 0060857439
Adobe Acrobat Reader ISBN: 0060857463
MobiPocket Reader ISBN: 9780060857455
Microsoft Reader ISBN: 0060857447
 
Chapter 1 I
It was Miss Lemon, Poirot's efficient secretary, who took the telephone call. Laying aside her shorthand notebook, she raised the receiver and said without emphasis, 'Trafalgar 8137.' Hercule Poirot leaned back in his upright chair and closed his eyes. His fingers beat a meditative soft tattoo on the edge of the table. In his head he continued to compose the polished periods of the letter he had been dictating. Placing her hand over the receiver, Miss Lemon asked in a low voice: 'Will you accept a personal call from Nassecombe, Devon?' Poirot frowned. The place meant nothing to him. 'The name of the caller?' he demanded cautiously. Miss Lemon spoke into the mouthpiece. 'Air-raid?' she asked doubtingly. 'Oh, yes– what was the last name again?' Once more she turned to Hercule Poirot. 'Mrs Ariadne Oliver.' Hercule Poirot's eyebrows shot up. A memory rose in his mind: windswept grey hair… an eagle profile… He rose and replaced Miss Lemon at the telephone. 'Hercule Poirot speaks,' he announced grandiloquently. 'Is that Mr Hercules Porrot speaking personally?' the suspicious voice of the telephone operator demanded. Poirot assured her that that was the case. 'You're through to Mr Porrot,' said the voice. Its thin reedy accents were replaced by a magnificent booming contralto which caused Poirot hastily to shift the receiver a couple of inches farther from his ear. 'M. Poirot, is that really you?' demanded Mrs Oliver. 'Myself in person, Madame.' Copyright © 1956 Agatha Christie
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