Haven’t read any for many years but 707 sparked my interest.
This is a good and really brilliantly plotted whodunit – if you haven’t read it, skip the next few lines, but the narrator is the murderer and brilliantly unmasked as such by Hercule Poirot, who has apparently retired from the Belgian police to a village in the south of England (I don’t know how this fits in with the chronology of the rest of her oeuvre).
Probably more skilful than Poirot’s detective work is the un-peeling of the narrative as the narrator is forced by Poirot’s logic to admit himself and perpetrator, and then take the appropriate action.
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