Quite possibly the longest mystery Christie wrote, and definitely worth it. It features some of her strongest characterization and some of her most deeply buried clues, as there is no convenient Hastings for Poirot to enumerate (but not explain) the bare facts of the case to. I believe it is also the first time St. Mary Mead appears, though Miss Marple does not.
As I was reading this mystery, I kept thinking that I had read it before, years ago. Still, I was mystified as to who the real criminal was, even when Miss Christie kept dropping clues, I had to wait until nearly the end when Hercule Poirot finally announced the killer and thief.
A mysterious woman, a legendary cursed jewel, and a night train to the Mediterranean--ingredients for the perfect romance? Not when the train stops, the jewel is missing, and the woman is found dead in her compartment. It's the perfect mystery, filled with passion, greed, deceit. And Hercule Poirot is the perfect detective to solve it.
The train hurtled through the night, with its wealthy passengers, toward the South of France. But one of those passengers would never again wake to the warm Mediterranean sun. Hercule Poirot, the zealous little Belgian detective, soon came to find a murderous web of deceit and greed.
You will recheck the name of the author on this one; it begins nothing like an Auntie novel. Not that it isnt a mystery; it just doesnt seem to be in her style. So she fools us again and again, at least until the appearance of Poirot. But then its one red herring after another. Are there a murder and a jewel thief, or is it the same person? Who can they (it) be? Auntie outdoes herself in this one, keeping the hints to herself until the end. Maybe she didnt know herself.