Murder on the Links, by Agatha Christie

Murder on the Links is one of the few Agatha Christie books I can remember nothing about from when I first read it.

“For God’s sake, come!” But by the time Hercule Poirot can respond to Monsieur Renauld’s plea, the millionaire is already dead — stabbed in the back, and lying in a freshly dug grave on the golf course adjoining his estate.There is no lack of suspects: his wife, whose dagger did the deed; his embittered son; Renauld’s mistress — and each feels deserving of the dead man’s fortune. The police think they’ve found the culprit. Poirot has his doubts. And the discovery of a second, identically murdered corpse complicates matters considerably.

It was a neat mystery. A B.

The mystery was pretty good, with countless twists and double twists, and I enjoyed it. As for the rest, it was fun seeing Poirot getting the best of the French inspector, who so arrogantly dismissed his methods as outdated. Hastings was as oblivious and foolishly romantic as ever, and he got a nice love story here.

All in all, nice and entertaining.