The Christie Curse Read Online Free PDF

play? That was another story.
    Next I curled up on the feather bed and got to work. Agatha Christie. Her name was
     synonymous with mystery. To tell the truth, my own tastes were contemporary and I
     wasn’t sure I’d actually ever read an Agatha Christie book,although I felt I knew about them. My impressions were probably based on Miss Marple
     or Hercule Poirot movies or television programs on flickering VCR bootleg tapes from
     PBS, watched while I was a child. My uncles had loved the British vibe. Uncle Mick
     always leaned forward with a gleam in his eye. Probably gave them a good sense of
     authenticity for the “antiques” business. Of course, Hercule Poirot or Miss Maple
     might have been onto their tricks in a flash in real life. But I needed to know much
     more.
    I dove into my project asking myself what was there about Agatha Christie that would
     lead a stranger to want to collect her unpublished work. Secretly, of course. Because
     it was obvious to me that Vera Van Alst was off the deep end over this play.
    By midnight I had a stiff neck from reading in one position. That was a small price
     to pay because I now knew about the mysterious eleven days that had gripped the attention
     of the world, about Christie’s stay at a spa in Harrogate, Yorkshire, under an assumed
     name, which was oddly enough the name of her husband’s mistress. I liked that. I’d
     laughed out loud at the thought of Agatha Christie’s fellow guests staring at her
     photo in the papers and discussing the disappearance as she sat right in front of
     them, dressed to the nines. I had to hand it to her. Nicely done. But, it had been
     only eleven days, and she’d spent a good part of that dining and playing cards. Had
     there really been enough time to write a play?
    Although, so far, there had been nothing about a play being written during this time
     period, the books were very intriguing, which I had been happy to discover. Bless
     our good buddy Lance and his knowledge of the topic. Fairly recently, an admiring
     author had uncovered a treasure trove of notebooks while researching in Greenway,
     Agatha Christie’s home in Devon. Lance had handed me the admiring author’s book, which
     described what was in those notebooks and how the contents related to Agatha Christie’s
     life.
Agatha Christie’s Secret Notebooks
sounded like a piece of fiction itself, although it was very real. I was fascinated
     to see how her famous novels had developed and something of the process she used.
     Better yet, while exploring the treasure trove of notebooks, the author had come across
     two unpublished short stories. Vera had alluded to those. I was glad to know how they
     had come to light. No one had even guessed they existed. But as one famous guy once
     said, the play’s the thing. Of course, that hadn’t ended well. So far there was nothing
     to confirm or even suggest a new play, although it now seemed more possible. So why
     had it taken over eighty years for this particular, and still hypothetical, play to
     show up? Where had it been? Why had it surfaced now? What were the chances that this
     wasn’t someone trying to con Vera Van Alst out of what was left of her inherited stash?
     That seemed more likely to me. God knows I’d seen enough of that kind of thing. On
     the other hand, I’d been hired to find the stupid thing, not disprove its existence.
    If I were a con artist, I’d sure be targeting obsessive collectors like her. Planting
     a rumor is an honored part of the con tradition. I knew all about collectors’ lust
     from my visits to Uncle Mick’s “antiques” shop. Vera Van Alst was a committed collector
     with deep pockets. Was she also a mark?
    From what I’d seen, she was shrewd and tough. Time would tell. As I went back to the
     books, I was growing more and more curious about my predecessor. The postal carrier
     had said an accident. What kind of accident? Maybe he’d been eaten alive. I’d have
     to check