LITMIR.BIZ

A headless corpse found in a flat becomes a source of tension for the police with his identity being linked to a Basque anarchist! Excerpt: "Look here, Pointer. Suppose you hand over the reins of that case you're on to Clark. He can carry on all right now. Superintendent Maybrick of Hampstead wants help. Or rather, I think he needs it. He's just been called in to a horrid mess, a murder, in one of the flats in his district. From certain things he thinks it's an anarchist plot gone wrong, 'biter bit' sort of thing," Major Pelham said vaguely; «he's got into touch with the Foreign Office already. So by this time there's sure to be some F.O. man sprinting along to have a first look.»

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Chief Inspector Pointer is on a mission to catch the biggest and the baddest of criminals. Aided by his side-kicks, Pointer is a master of observation and daring. Contents: The Eames-Erskine Case The Charteris Mystery The Footsteps That Stopped The Clifford Affair The Cluny Problem The Wedding Chest Mystery The Craig Poisoning Mystery The Tall House Mystery Tragedy atBeechcroft The Case of the Two Pearl Necklaces Scarecrow Mystery at the Rectory

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The «unfortunate» and «coincidental» deaths of Rev. John Avery and a local village fellow do not excite any suspicion in locals until Inspector Pointer gets involved in the case! Excerpt: "The rector got up from his writing table and laying his pipe down, stood a moment as though collecting his thoughts. A distinguished-looking man of around forty was John Avery, with his tall spare figure, his clever, scholarly face. He was frowning as he absent-mindedly straightened a yellow china jar on the corner of the mantelshelf. Then he returned to his knee-hole table, and, taking an apple from a plate which always stood on the corner, began slowly to eat it, still with a look of abstraction on his face, still with some inner discomfort marking a frown on his fine forehead. The apple automatically disposed of, he drew out his watch and looked at it. Four o'clock. His sister-in-law would probably be in her own sitting-room."

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An innocent masked-ball party in the touristy town of Cluny turns into a puzzling scene of crime with two of the guests being found dead in a locked room! Excerpt: "Anthony!" Vivian Young made a laughing surprised clutch at a tall figure stalking ahead of her down the station platform. The man turned sharply. At the sight of his fiancée he smiled pleasantly, though a sharp observer would have said that there was something in his eyes that suggested a man about to make the best of a position not entirely to his liking. «My dear girl!» he ejaculated warmly, «what brings you to Macon? Did you get into the wrong train, or out of the right one, or what?» «I'm on my way to Cluny.»

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Ronald Craig's death from arsenic poisoning riles up lot of feathers in a small country side with each person having a strong motif! Excerpt: "You say you're going up to town, Bob, as soon as you've left here. Anywhere near Pont Street? Good. Then do you mind wheeling that nearer to me?" The sick man waved a thin, but still brown hand, to where a little writing cabinet, shaped like a miniature roll-top desk, stood on a swing table. «Thanks,» he went on. «Just wait a minute, will you, while I write a note. If you'll drop it in Houghton's letter-box, or hand it in yourself, I shall be much obliged.» He hesitated. «Yourself,» he repeated. «It's most important, and I don't want to wait for the post.»

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Soon after receiving a beautiful pearl necklace set as a wedding gift from her husband, the bride is found murdered! Even the pearls are found to be fake. So, who killed the innocent bride? Where are the real pearls? Excerpt: "Kitty Walsh had just been watching the marionettes. At first with keen amusement; but suddenly they had become not funny at all—instead, a sort of ghastly parody on life. They looked so incredibly alive, their actions seemed too intelligent, and yet they were only puppets that were dancing, and making love, and even committing murders with such energy and dash. She shot a glance at Ronald Mills beside her it had been his idea that in lieu of another dance they should watch the Show for a while. He caught her eye and followed her back into the ballroom."

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A dead body is found in a hotel's wardrobe and points towards an unfortunate case of drug-overdose. But Inspector Pointer is not convinced and treats it as a murder mystery. Is he right in his presumption? Or, is it indeed a drug-overdose case? Excerpt: "The door opened noiselessly, and four men came in. They were in plain clothes, and one carried a large box. «Evening,» said the first. «I am Chief Inspector Pointer from New Scotland Yard. These are detectives Watts, Miller and Lester. What's wrong?» «I 'phoned,» a tall young man answered crisply. «I am the manager of the hotel. This is Mr. Beale, an American gentleman to whom this room was let a couple of hours ago. It really belongs to a young fellow who is away for the week-end, but as there was no other room available we assigned it to this gentleman for the one night. Mr. Beale has just told me that there is something wrong about the wardrobe you see there. Kindly investigate that large knot-hole in the back for yourself, Inspector.»

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A murder mystery thought to have been solved ages ago comes back with a bang when an unidentified body of a man is found at the Dover Beach with severe head injuries. Excerpt: "Elsie and Inskipp watched them disappear. «There, but for the grace of God—» murmured Inskipp unctuously. «I don't think any one should be as ugly as those two are,» said Elsie. She spoke meditatively, objectively. She was an artist, and, incidentally, a very pretty girl. And as though to give her another look at them, the brother and sister suddenly reappeared, walking briskly towards them. As usual, Florence Rackstraw was in the lead. She was very tall. Her head was too large for her bony body, and seemed to be all face, a face the colour of mottled mahogany. Her hair, straight as that of a mouse, was looped in two curtains over her ears and gathered into a tight little bun on her long, scraggy neck. Her eyes protruded. Her chin retreated. Her nose was hooked. Her mouth consisted of two thin, pale lines that slanted up to one side."

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A gift of an ornate Chinese chest ends up becoming the coffin of the receiver. Who killed him? And, why was his body put inside the same chest that was supposed to be exhibited in a party? Chief Inspector Pointer must solve the clues to this locked-room mystery and find the killer before it's too late! Excerpt: "Mr.Farrant to see you, sir, Very urgent.Mr. William Farrant." The private inquiry agent smoothed his forehead and nodded as he glanced at a calendar of social events which his clerk prepared for him daily. A moment later a young man was shown in. He was of big build, but moved with a step so noiseless that even now, when he came forward and shook Schofild's outstretched hand, no footfall could be heard, and the room had parquet flooring."

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Rose Charteris' dead body at the bottom of a sand pit let the onlookers believe that probably she died due to a freak accident… But Chief Inspector Pointer is deeply suspicious as there are many people who will directly benefit from her murder! Excerpt: "Cockburn thought that the colonel looked vexed. An old scar on his forehead blazed a bar of crimson. A sign of anger. Yet he could hardly be annoyed with the girls for knowing where the professor was. But already the colonel had puzzled him on the courts. Generally a fine player—to-day! Cockburn eyed him as he cut a cigar unevenly, and decided that something was up. It was not Colonel Scarlett's habit to chip a Corona like that. Nor to hold it so tightly that it leaked. Nor to smoke it at a pace which would turn it into an overheated cabbage stalk."

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