A man found dead in a blind woman’s house. His body was discovered by a typist who arrived for a job call. But the blind Miss Pebmarsh denied calling the secretarial bureau for Miss Sheila Webb’s service. Who placed that call and asked specifically for her?
The creepier thing is the profusion of clocks, all set an hour fast, that are strewn around the house. Neither of them belongs to Miss Pebmarsh. Why are the clocks there? Who put them there?
This is is why I always look forward to reading the earlier Agatha Christie novels—they always grab my attention from the beginning.
I resisted watching the TV adaptation and set my heart on hunting down a copy of The Clocks, which have not been rereleased for many years. Luck had it that the local used bookstore has two pocket paperbacks in stock.
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