Judith Post's Blog, page 2

The Kids Are Coming!

Our daughter wanted to have a family barbecue picnic, so HH and I said, “Why not?” She and our younger grandson are coming up to stay the weekend at four or five today. Our older grandson, his wife, and baby are coming after work, so won’t get here until later. We’re keeping tonight simple. Once everyone’s here, we’re ordering whatever pizzas they want and having them delivered.

Tomorrow is the barbecue. I made three slabs of ribs until they’re fall off the bone. All we have to do is heat them and sauce them up on Saturday. I made a big bowl of potato salad, too, and cooked shell pasta to put in a baggie to add to a cheese sauce for stove-top mac ‘n cheese. My kids are all great cooks, so they’re going to help me with the rest.

My menu is: ribs, corn on the cob, potato salad, mac ‘n cheese, panzanella salad, a blueberry Jello-salad, and cheddar-garlic biscuits from a box mix. For people who don’t like ribs, I’m making mole’ chicken tacos with all the toppings. We kept dessert simple–a white cake from Costco and ice creams with toppings.

We bought a stack of Chinet paper plates and bowls, and I’m cooking as much as I can in foil pans, so clean-up will be easy. I’m trying to keep everything simple and lazy. When they leave on Sunday, I know I’ll be exhausted, but we’ll sure have a wonderful weekend.

A little frivolous

HH finally got desperate enough to try the Miss Fisher mystery series. It was late, and we were tired. We have to concentrate when we watch his usual picks–Poirot or Miss Marple, so we went with something that was lighter. I’ve been wanting to watch Miss Fisher for a while now, but HH took one look at her hat and flippant 20’s style and stalled. This time, we went for it, and he liked it.

Don’t get me wrong. The mystery was strong enough to support the story, but Miss Fisher herself is a woman ahead of her times, flirty and assertive. And she can dance a mean tango. Her very rich and snobbish aunt tells her that she’s lucky she was born with a good pedigree, even though her mother eloped with a man who was “beneath” her. Miss Fisher might not live in an estate, but she stays in the best hotels and wears the newest, expensive clothes. She’s not struggling with money.

She carries a gun so thinks she’s safe to walk down dangerous alleys. Mystery fans know that’s pushing her luck. But even though the show stretches the boundaries now and then, that’s what makes it fun to watch. A little tongue in cheek, a wink now and then, and a mystery to solve. Perfect for when you just want to be entertained.

Free Short Story

This story is in memory of our smart, little stray.

Sweat rolled down Noira’s spine the minute she left the courthouse. Too damned hot, but she was tired of eating lunch at the work cafeteria. She’d eaten there everyday the last two weeks to avoid the heat, and it was only June. After the car accident, though, she couldn’t move fast. The heat got to her, so she plopped her cane next to her and sagged on a park bench in some shade.

A light tan chihuahua rushed up to her and sat directly in front of her.. Where had he come from? It wasn’t safe for a little guy like him to be wandering alone downtown. He started making odd doggie noises, staring at her intently, trying to tell her something.

She had to chuckle. “You’ve picked the wrong person. I’m not an animal lover. Go find someone else who’s into pet talk.”

The chihuahua cocked its head to the side, as if he could understand her. Then it gently took her left hand in its mouth and tried to make her follow him.

“Are you like Lassie? Is this an emergency?” But she picked up her cane and stood. “Okay, but whatever you need had better be close. It’s too hot to go far.”

The dog let go of her, and curly tail wagging, started off, glancing behind to make sure she was coming. She followed for two blocks, then stopped. “Look, I like you and all, but I’m feeling sticky and hungry. We’re in front of a deli with air conditioning. You’re losing me.”

He bent down, his little bottom in the air, and he barked in panic. Then he ran down a block and a half and crossed the street to some bushes near the underpass. She about had heart failure when he raced across Calhoun with a line of traffic. Brakes squealed. Cars swerved. But he ran to some bushes, looked back at her, and barked like crazy.

“That’s where it is?” She started toward him. If she found a chewed-up, cracked Frisbee, she was going to be ticked. Instead, she found a hand sticking out of the hedge, then a dress, then a body.

She called 911. A low cement wall separated the parking area from the beginning of Freimann Park, so she sat on it, and the little dog came to sit next to her. She bent to pet him. “This must have been your owner. You’re a true man’s best friend to try to help someone find her.”

He nuzzled against her ankle, and she realized she admired the little guy. Why he picked her to help, she didn’t know, but she was glad she could.

A few minutes later, her old friend, Detective Hunter, parked at the curb and got out to view the scene. “A Marsala Hammond’s work place called to report her missing. Works at the Court House like you. You know her?” She was lying face down. He showed her a picture on his cell phone.

Noira shook her head. “I think I’ve seen her on the second floor. That’s all.”

“She never misses a day without calling in, and all of a sudden, she was gone two days and no one had heard from her.” He reached for her purse “Her I.D.’s here, but no money. She lives in an apartment close by. Must have decided to take her dog for a walk before work and someone killed her.”

Noira eyed the chihuahua. “He’s stayed with her for two days? How did he make it with no food or water?”

More cop cars lined the street, and Hunter went to meet them. Techs got busy.

“Do you need me?” Noira asked. “The heat’s killing me, and I’m hungry. I’m heading across the street to get something to eat.”

Hunter waved her away. “I know where to find you.”

The street was empty, so she started across it. The little dog stayed by her side. When they reached the outdoor seating, she found a table in the shade and ordered a Reuben and water. Then she called her office to let them know she’d be late. Judge Hershel noticed her I.D. and picked up.

“You braved outside today?”

“Yeah, and a dog led me to a dead body.”

“Really? How interesting! You’ll have to tell me all about it when you get back.” One of the reasons Noira loved working for her. They had a similar take on life.

The dog went to a big bowl near the front door and drank from it. One question answered. Her food came, and she dropped scraps of meat on the cement. He wolfed it down. So, he’d had water but no food. When she finished eating and paid her bill, she waited on a few cars before crossing the street again. Hunter and his team were still at it, but the body was gone.

“You’re not going to believe this, but Marsala was gripping a carton of eggs. Three were missing.”

Noira frowned. “Why would she bring eggs to work?”

“Maybe her floor was doing a carry-in? Donating to a bake sale?”

“Then they kept it quiet. No one else knew about it.” She turned to leave. “I brought the little guy back to you. Are people fighting over who gets to keep him?”

Hunter’s lips pulled down. “Nobody wants him. I’m going to call the pound to pick him up.”

“What?” Noira glanced at the dog by her ankle. “He’s a hero. You can’t send him to the pound.”

“The lady there said they’d keep him for three days before…you know. They have too many chihuahuas right now.”

“No!” Noira shook with emotion. This was just wrong.

Hunter looked at her. “I’d let you take him home.”

Stunned, Noira hesitated. “Me? With a dog? Speed and I have never wanted a pet.”

Hunter shrugged. “I just thought I’d give you the option. You seem pretty attached to him.”

If she walked away, her little hero would have three days. That’s all. She couldn’t do that to him. “I’ll take him home, and we’ll find someone who’ll love him.”

“Good luck.”

As she walked back to the office, she looked down at the dog. “I don’t know what your name was, but you’re a chihuahua, so I’m going to call you Chewy.”

His tail wagged as he followed her up the courthouse steps.

“What’s this?” The security guard pointed to the sign on the door. “No pets allowed.”

She told him Chewy’s sad story, and he glanced at his friend by the metal detector. “I heard a funny noise at the back door. I think we should check on it.” His friend grinned as they turned their backs on Noira. “Don’t be here when we get back,” the guard told her.

Noira and Chewy hurried to the elevator. Stairs were too much bother after her accident. When they walked in Noira’s office, Judge Hershel heard and came out of her chambers. She stared at Chewy. “This had better be good.”

Noira retold her story, and the judge raised an eyebrow, studying the dog. “They’d have really put him down after what he did?”

“Three days,” Noira said.

“He’ll have to stay under your desk until you take him home.”

Without a sound, Chewy went under the big desk, laid down with his head on his paws, and went to sleep.

“Smart dog.” The judge went back to her chambers, and Noira got busy trying to catch up with the paperwork scattered everywhere. Hunter stopped in for a minute.

“We got lucky. Found a surveillance camera on a street light that should give us a good view of Marsala. Might see exactly what happened.”

He left, and she stayed at work an extra ten minutes until everything was organized and most people had already left the building. Then she used the elevator again and walked Chewy to her car. The closer she got to her apartment, the more nervous she felt.

When she pulled into her parking space, she turned to Chewy. “We’re going to face our toughest critic yet. Speed isn’t go to be happy to see you. You have to be on your best behavior.”

They got out of the car and walked to her front door. She and Speed lived in a community of one-story apartments, all the same. Two bedrooms, two baths, a long living room with a tiny galley kitchen at the end. Patio doors led to a backyard patio and grill area. Speed loved to invite his co-workers for barbecues a few times a year, so loved the outdoor space.

She braced her shoulders and opened the door.

“You’re late,” Speed called from the kitchen and came to greet her with a glass of wine. He stopped and frowned when he saw Chewy.

She took the glass and inhaled a large swallow for fortification. “Let me explain. It’s just until we can find him a home.”

His hands went to his hips. “And why are we doing that?”

Noira explained. When she finished, he blew out a frustrated breath. “Okay, he can have a sleepover with us. I have tomorrow off. I’ll start calling people. Someone will want him.”

Relieved, Noira followed him to the living room.”You’ve picked up all the empty cartons. It looks nice in here.”

“We needed to make room for the new.” Speed opened the microwave and pulled out cartons of Chinese take-out. He carried them to the coffee table. “Let’s change into our pajamas before we eat.”

They went to the bedroom and Noira pulled a hanger out of the closet for her blouse. Before she could drape it to keep it wrinkle-free, though, Chewy scrunched himself low on the floor and started whimpering. His entire body trembled. She frowned at him. “What’s the matter?”

Speed pulled on his pajama bottoms and came to see. “He’s afraid.”

“Of my blouse?”

“No, of the hanger.” Speed laid it on the ground and bent to pet and reassure the dog. “See? We won’t hit you with it. Someone did that, didn’t they?” His voice turned hard. “I can’t believe you were faithful to an owner who abused you.”

It took a little more convincing before Chewy realized they weren’t going to hurt him, but he finally went to stand by Speed’s ankle, his doggie smile returning. Speed tugged a T-shirt over his head, and Noira put on her favorite pajama bottoms with a T-shirt top, and they went to eat. Speed grabbed an extra paper plate and spooned some Mongolian Beef on it for Chewy.

Noira smiled. “You like him, too.”

“He’s all right.” Speed reached down to pet him.

After supper, they each got a second drink and went to sit at the patio table. Speed carried Chewy outside with them and walked from one cement patio to the next.

“See these?” he told the dog. “These are private property. You aren’t allowed on them.” He pointed to a large grassy area in the center. “We all share this space. You can run and play here, but that’s as far as you can go. Understand?”

The tail wagged, and Speed put Chewy down.

“You can’t expect him to understand that,” Noira said.

“Watch and see. He’s smart.”

Chewy ran around and around in circles near the perimeter of the grass. Finally he flopped down in the center and rolled from side to side until he stopped and closed his eyes.

Speed gave a smug smile. “Well?”

“Okay, he’s smart.” She stretched her legs. It was still a little warm, but not hot. They stayed outside until they finished their drinks, then they headed indoors.

“Chewy! Time to chill,” Speed called, and the dog raced to them.

Speed got comfortable in his recliner and grabbed the remote. Noira took the couch, Chewy jumping to nestle against her. At ten, they headed to bed, snuggling under the covers. Chewy stalked around it, whimpering.

“I’ll lock him in the office,” Noira said. “It’s on the other side of the apartment. Maybe we won’t hear him.”

“I have a better idea.” An easy chair with a footstool sat in the far corner of the room. Speed got up, pushed the footstool to the end of the bed, and got back under his covers.

Chewy jumped on the stool, then the bed, and curled behind Speed’s knees.

Noira propped herself on an elbow. “That can’t be comfortable.”

“He’s fine.” Speed reached a hand back to pet him, then they all went to sleep.

*

Noira had to push herself out of bed when the alarm rang. She stumbled to the bathroom, and Speed and Chewy went to the kitchen. By the time she was dressed and ready for work, Speed had a cup of coffee waiting for her and a donut. The breakfast of champions. She wolfed them down and was ready to walk out the door when Speed said, “Oh, no, you don’t.”

“What?”

“Have you looked in the mirror? Your hair looks like the Bride of Frankenstein.”

“But I sprayed it and gave it a quick brush.”

“Try again.”

Her long, unruly chestnut hair did what it wanted, but the next time she walked into the living room, he nodded approval, and she left. On her drive to the courthouse, she thought about Chewy. Speed had the day off. He’d be calling people to find the dog a home. Would he be there when she got back?

At her office, she found a new stack of papers in the middle of her desk. A new case. She was trying to get everything arranged for it when Detective Hunter popped into the office.

“You’re gonna wanna see this.” He raised his voice, “You might enjoy it, too, Judge.”

She came out of her office, and they jammed together to watch the footage on his phone. The security camera had a perfect view of Marsala.

“I ‘ve already interviewed the woman she harassed,” Hunter told them. “Used her license number to track her down. I’ll talk you through the video.”

Marsala dropped Chewy’s leash and stepped on it so that he couldn’t go anywhere. Then she opened her carton of eggs and threw one at a shiny, blue SUV. It broke with a splat, its contents dripping down the side of the car. She hurled a second egg at the car’s rear panel, laughing when it hit.

A woman stormed across the street to confront her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hunter read from his notes.

Marsala bit her bottom lip. “I thought you’d be at your desk by now.”

“I ran in the diner to get a croissant egg sandwich. Why are you throwing eggs at my car?”

“Because I don’t like you.”

The woman stared. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

“You’re a workaholic, get too much done, then Tabitha expects more from the rest of us.”

The woman pulled out her cellphone.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to take pictures of you and what you’ve done, and it had better never happen again. Leave me alone. Then I’m calling in sick today to go to a car wash and get the eggs off my paint before it does any damage. Stay away from me from now” She stalked to her car and drove away.

The judge frowned. “She left. So, who killed Marsala?”

“Keep watching.” Hunter pointed to his screen.

Marsala picked up Chewy’s leash and turned to take a shortcut across Freimann Square to the courthouse. The cement wall was shorter here and hidden by weeds and bushes. She hit it with the toe of her shoe, tried to keep her balance, but fell. She hit her head hard on the edge of the wall, then went limp. Chewy licked her, trying to wake her up, with no luck. She was dead.

“It was an accident?” Noira shook her head.

Hunter turned off his phone and returned it to his pocket. “No one else was there.”

It was sort of fitting, Noira decided, in a macabre kind of way.

Hunter left, and Noira got busy. She didn’t think about Chewy again until it was time to go home. The apartment was going to feel a little empty without him. But when she walked through the front door, Speed and Chewy were waiting for her with a glass of wine.

She took a sip, then looked at the dog. “Did you find someone who wanted him?”

“Yup, and they’d be perfect for him if the wife signs on. We’re waiting for her approval.”

They walked into the living room, and she sat down. “Who is it?” She knew a lot of Speed’s friends.

“Us. He’s grown on me, but if you don’t want a pet, I’ll find someone else.”

A gush of relief rushed through her. “I want him, but I wasn’t sure how you felt.”

Speed reached for his beer and patted the spot beside him on the chair. Chewy jumped up. He scratched him behind his ears. “Welcome to the family, buddy.”

“What about when we both work?” Will that be a problem?” What did a dog do for eight hours when its owners were gone?

“He’s going with me. I already got approval. He has to stay in the front of the EMS, but Ditto says he’ll be our mascot, like firemen have dachshunds.”

Speed’s EMS partner loved kids and pets. Chewy would have it made. “You can’t leave him in a hot ambulance when you take patients inside the hospital.”

“Got that taken care of, too. The valets all said he could stay with them outside.”

“I guess that’s that then.” This time, Noira raised her glass in a toast before finishing her wine. Chewy was officially theirs.

Mercury’s Mad At Me

For the last two weeks, I’ve been bothering with things I usually don’t even have to think about, and I’ve lost a lot of time doing it. First, it was Hulu. We pay for a bundle package, and Disney + and Max got added to it. That would be fine, but every time I tried to sign in to Hulu, I went straight to Disney +, and it wouldn’t let me past it to get to Hulu to see my favorite shows. I fiddled with “troubleshooting” for “can’t sign in to Hulu” for a few hours, three days in a row, but I kept getting passed back and forth between Hulu and Disney so much, I got confused. Finally, when I was ready to call for help, Disney sent me a page with a new password that would change my old ones so that Hulu, Disney, and Max all had the same one. And everything worked. A frustrating experience, but it’s behind me now.

I sat down to work on my short story the next day and decided to polish everything I’d written so far. I got the first three pages done and was so happy with them, I hit “save.” And they all disappeared. Poof! Gone. When I tried to get them back, I found out my entire office program was frozen. No response to anything. I tried a few things to wake it up, then remembered what a wise computer guru once told me. “Before you get gung-ho, turn off your computer, count to 25, then turn it back on.” And voila! Everything was there again, including the changes I’d made. I got lucky.

Then our landline phones went dead. We did the unplug everything, wait a while, and plug them back in. No luck. HH called Frontier and they said they’d send somebody out in two days, but the next day, the phones worked. Lucky again.

Next, I was typing away, adding new pages to my short story when I went to hit enter and the pinkie finger on my left hand clicked something. I’ll never know what. But after that, I couldn’t type anything new. I could hit the keys, but nothing showed up. I looked through Edit, View, and Layout, but never figured out how to fix it. It was like I’d put my keyboard on pause. But on the third day, everything worked again. Who knows?

The horoscope said that planets are changing signs, so I hope Mercury moves on and is nicer to the next person it visits. As for me, if everything just works like it used to, I’ll be happy.

He’s Adorable!

I’ve been getting better, so my grandson and his wife drove from Indy to spend the day with us and to introduce us to their now over 3-month-old baby, Clark, our first great-grandson. It’s the first time we’ve gotten to see him. And he was every bit as wonderful as everyone said he was.

He’s known for his charm, coos, and smiles. Not so much on Saturday, but when they did show up, wow! The kid’s got personality, but he was out of sorts for our visit. I got to hold him and fuss over him, and when he got really fussy, my sister volunteered to take him. She’s always complaining about her weight, but Clark loved what she called her pillowy feel. She rocked him, sang to him, and jostled him. He didn’t have a chance. He fell asleep, and Aunt Fluffy (her new nickname) hung on to him, enjoying it.

Later in the day, my sister went with them to show him to my cousin in the nursing home. She busted out crying when they surprised her. Nice! When they got back, I had tons of deli meat and nibbles waiting for a quick eat before they drove home.

It was a wonderful day. I was wiped out, but it was worth it. Little Clark is a keeper!

Back at the Keyboard

I’m not skipping rope yet, but I’m feeling better. Which means that most days, I can sneak in some writing time. I decided to start with a short story just to get the gray cells working again. So, I’m working on a Noira and Speed story for my blog, and one of the main characters is a little chihuahua.

We had a chihuahua for years who left his family to come live with us. It made them, him, and US happy. I loved it that it always looked like he was smiling and that his curly tail wagged more often than not. He made a great addition to our family and to my story:

Anyway, I’m close to finishing this, and then I can load it for you. It’s pretty fluffy, fun to write.

Out of Commission

I’ve been sitting (mostly sleeping) on the sidelines for a LONG time. I’m so far behind on everything, I’ve quit thinking about it. But I think I”m finally on the road to getting better, and I’ll just start over again wherever I am.

I came home from Florida at the end of February with a stomach virus that was going around down there. Spent a week in bed, but when the virus left, my stomach just kept getting worse and worse. I had stool samples, blood tests, and C Scans, went to the ER, but no solid answers. We had to change doctors because of networks, and our new family doctor had more blood tests run and said that my pancreas was making NO enzymes of any kind, so we focused on that. But by my next visit in June, all of my numbers were worse, so he admitted me to the hospital right after I left his office.

The best thing that could have happened to me. I had a bulging stomach (full of something), bulging abs, and swollen legs and feet. I was a mess. The hospitalist ordered another CT Scan, and they sent me to the third floor. It seems that a “sack” surrounds our blood vessels and organs to protect them, and every time I ate or drank, the contents went into the “sack” and not into my organs. That put the doctors in a tough position. They couldn’t give me an IV, because it would just join the gunk floating around inside me, but my kidneys were in distress because they were dehydrated. My blood vessels weren’t sending them any fluids.

Nurses came and drained my too full bladder, and that relieved a LOT of pressure. Then I went downstairs to have my stomach “tapped.” A; specialist put a needle inside the sack with a drainage tube and told me to take a nap. Half an hour later, 5.8 liters of fluid had drained into 3 medium sized buckets. More relief.

Then it was back to my room to find the right combination of meds to keep the fluids draining but also get enough liquids to save my kidneys. EVERY nurse and doctor were wonderful–kind and compassionate. I’m not a fan of hospitals, but I’m a huge of the people who work there. Sure, in the hospital, someone takes your vitals 3 times a day, draws blood once a day at least, and pushes pills and shots at a steady pace. But, they also can decide what’s really going on. My pancreas was lazy, but it wasn’t hurting anything. The culprit is an enlarged fatty liver. (I’ll miss my wine, but I like my liver more). And after 7 days, they sent me home with a game plan to get healthy again. I might be on the road to recovery. I might even be able to write again. Fingers crossed.

Bridgerton Costs Me Sleep

After supper, HH and I usually settle in the living room to relax for the night. We always watch the Evening News, and when it’s not repeats, we watch Wheel of Fortune (possibly HH’s favorite show). Then we hit Hulu or Netflix, whatever, to watch something. After ten, we usually read. (At least, I used to. Can’t right now, but I’m hoping when I feel better, my Kindle will be my best friend again.)

Anyway, our evenings usually make it so that when we go to bed, we zonk out. But not when we watch Bridgerton. We watched it last night, and there were so many twists and turns and surprises, that we went to bed, and a half hour later, HH said, “I know how they’re going to make everything work out for Penelope.” I highly disagree with his solution, but who knows? The cliffhangers kept rolling over and over in our minds. Was it fair for Lady Danbury to despise her brother for all these years when it LOOKED like he never meant to hurt her? What will wily, sly Queen Charlotte decide about Lady Whistledown? Will Eloise and Penelope ever be best friends again after Cressida pulled such a stunning move? (Not that I blame her. I’d do anything not to be married off to a man in his eighties).

Anyway, it took both HH and I at least an hour to sort through all of the subplots and wrinkles of the show. And when we woke up, the first thing HH said is, “They can’t hang Penelope out to dry.” Since she’s the main love interest this season, I don’t think that will happen, but boy, is it hard to figure out how they’re going to smooth everything back into HEA.

Babies

Jazzi and Ansel had baby Toby on August 3rd. The Body in the Lobby starts in November. Toby’s three months old now. It’s hard for me to remember when babies do what. But my grandson and his wife had their baby boy on March 16, and the last time I talked to them, Clark was making all kinds of happy noises with a new toy he had through the entire conversation. Fun to hear!

I printed out a sheet of what most babies do month by month, and that’s helped a lot. One of Toby’s favorite things is “blanket time,” when Jazzi lays on one side of him and Ansel on the other, and it’s play time. My daughter was so excited to be a grandma, she bought a “play area” for her floor. When she babysits, she puts Clark in it and entertains him the entire time he stays happy with attention and toys. He actually squeals he gets so excited. Once play time’s over, it’s time for cuddles and milk, and then a nap.

I try to balance out Jazzi’s workdays, with her time with Gaff, and home time, but every working mother struggles with that. Jazzi’s lucky in that Fazal’s mother, Aleena, babysits Toby during the day. Aleena loves babies. She made a living as a nanny and not much throws her. While Toby’s an easy-going, little guy, Elspeth (who’s a co-owner at the bakery with Fazal) has it harder going. Her Heath, whom Aleena babysits, too, is a fussy baby. And isn’t that the way it is? No two babies are alike. You get what you get. And you love them as they are.

Anyway, I’m hoping Toby learns to roll over by the end of this book. And by the next book, Jazzi and Ansel will have to babyproof their house. Once a baby learns to crawl, it’s time to put up baby gates and plug electrical sockets. I always thought the older a baby got, the more fun they were. Toby’s going to be a joy.

Clever

HH and I watched Joan Hickson as Miss Marple last night. I especially liked her in that role, but all three of the newest actresses are good. They each put a different spin on the part.

We’ve watched repeats of a lot of them, and I know I’ve seen The Murder at the Vicarage before, but it was so long ago, I forgot a lot of it, especially who the killers were. I’m not trying to give anything away, but this probably will. The thing that amazed me is how well Agatha Christie uses two suspects working together to commit murder. She’s a master of it. In Evil Under the Sun and Death on the Nile, the two suspects time things out so that each one has an alibi in the time frame of what happened. She outdoes herself in Murder on the Orient Express where the victim is stabbed over and over again.

As always, with Christie, there are interesting people to point fingers at, and every little clue plays into the murder somewhere. This time, the detective on the case is Detective Slack, who hates letting anyone interfere in his investigations. He thinks of Miss Marple as a pesky nuisance. His assistant secretly enjoys her.

A side bonus for me was the vicar’s wife. She’s young, pretty, and a little eccentric. She’s a wonderful, generous person, but when she gets bored listening to village gossip, she’s not above making up a tall tale or two. Some of them are doozies!