The Christie Caper - Carolyn Hart [63]
POSTER 8
A bucket filled with water and bobbing apples.
POSTER 9
An elderly gentleman stands in the hotel lobby, staring in dismay at the Out-of-Order sign on the lift.
POSTER 10
Her elfin face twisted with jealous rage, the angry young woman yanks a pistol from her lap and shoots the athletic, blond man.
POSTER 11
Light from the fireplace flickers on the faces of the bridge players, intent upon their game, and on the Mephistophelian countenance of the man watching from his chair next to the fire.
POSTER 12
Clutching an oilskin packet, the young woman hurries toward the lifeboats as the Lusitania begins to sink.
POSTER 13
The hotel counter is not quite seedy, but certainly not posh. On a notice board, envelopes are pinned for hotel guests. One envelope is addressed to Miss Carnaby.
POSTER 14
The scene aboard the airliner is quite peaceful. Two passengers appear to sleep: a heavy-set middle-aged woman and a small man wrapped heavily in mufflers.
POSTER 15
The beautiful young woman has an air of quiet dignity and great despair as she stands before the judge.
POSTER 16
Uncertain of the proper demeanor when faced with tragedy, the fresh-faced young man in golf clothes kneels on the cliffside path beside the dying man.
POSTER 17
The old woman is definitely the center of the family group in the hotel lounge. The young people seem indistinct and bloodless in comparison to her monumental bulk and grotesque ugliness.
POSTER 18
The clear-eyed old lady sips a cup of tea and studies the occupants of the old-fashioned, luxurious hotel lounge. Muffins and seed cakes are on the plate before her.
POSTER 19
The elderly man in the white duck suit and panama hat reclines comfortably on the deck chair, watching the sunbathers with interest.
POSTER 20
The young woman’s body, dressed in a cheap white satin evening dress, looks completely out of place on the old bearskin hearth rug.
POSTER 21
The melange of objects seems to have no rhyme or reason: a cut-up rucksack, several electric light bulbs, a pair of flannel trousers, one woman’s evening shoe, a diamond ring, a bottle of green ink …
POSTER 22
The murder scene looks just like a stage setting: the lovely swimming pool, the dark blue water, and the blood from the dying man.
POSTER 23
A speeding car. An old woman staring up at it in horror. A cat with a bandaged ear.
POSTER 24
The old man next to the thornbush looks as though he’d seen a ghost as he stuffs a photograph back in his wallet.
POSTER 25
The dark, pretty girl hurries up the steep path on the limestone cliffs to a rock chamber near the tomb.
Although Max was never one to worry, he glanced up at the clock above Meeting Room A. The treasure hunt would begin in ten minutes. “But I thought—”
Without moving her upper body and with her bright smile still in place, Annie kicked him fiercely in the left shin. Before she turned to face the restless crowd, she spoke without moving her lips. “Floor. Hand me Clue Sheets. Deliver Title Slips.” It sounded like a cross between a Hungarian with lockjaw and a teenager just home from the orthodontist. She accompanied the request with a brief downward nod, then whirled to face the restless treasure hunters.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please!” From the corner of her eye, she saw Max drop into a crouch. With the registration table as his cover, he put the box safely on the floor, opened it, and placed in Annie’s left hand, which was also screened by the table, the Clue Sheets.
Annie smiled heartily at the treasure hunters. “Welcome to one of our conference highlights, the Agatha Christie Treasure Hunt. We do have a few rules—”
“Mrs. Darling, pardon me for interrupting. I would appreciate an opportunity to speak with the members of your conference for a few minutes.” The knees of Frank Saulter’s khaki trousers were smeared with dirt. Despite the air-conditioning which kept the hotel temperature