Le club des amateurs de romans policiers : Meurtres sous les étoiles

Comment imaginer crime plus audacieux, plus encore que celui auquel ils avaient assisté quelques heures plus tôt sur ce grand écran ? Au moins, dans l’histoire d’Agatha Christie, le meurtrier avait attendu que sa victime soit seule dans une crique isolée pour agir.
L’impudence de ce criminel était terrifiante.

Ils étaient vraiment une petite bande de fouineurs qui aimaient les histoires.

Miss Marple never shied away from poking her nose in where it wasn't welcome, and nor would she.

Alicia smiled to herself. She adored the final summation, the chance for Poirot to prove his brilliance and point the finger from one trembling suspect to the next before finally settling on the real culprit. Or culprits as the case may be.

Miss Marple did have to work smarter and harder than Poirot. He had his sidekick Captain Hastings to do his legwork and Inspector Japp firmly in his pocket. Miss Marple was just a little old lady living in a quiet village. She wasn't a celebrity detective, so she had to somehow ingratiate herself into an inves-tigation—no easy feat.

"Miss Marple never did get quite the same acclaim as Monsieur Poirot, but I, for one, think she's better.

"It's really very naughty of us," she said. "And a little sexist, if I'm being completely honest. I mean, especially for a book club filled with so many strong women!"