Agatha Christie Last Novel Novels & Stories

The Harbor Confrontation The interior of the warehouse felt remarkably dry compared to the lashing brine outside, though the air stayed thick with the smell of old parchment, scorching silicon, and the faint, bitter musk of wild mint. Agatha did not drop her hands from the server cradle. Her slender fingers remained poised above the manual kill-switches, her knuckles turning a sharp, bloodless white under the pale amber glare of the overhead workspace lamps. She wore a simple, dark traveling cloak that looked caked in the gray dust of a hundred different border towns, her sharp features mapping out a web of deep, permanent lines that spoke of twenty years spent hiding in the lawless drift zo

“Cut the act. I don’t know why you are here. But I do know that you were involved in something. You were involved in the attack last night. Weren’t you?” She chuckled, stepping closer, her fingers lingering just above my wrist. “So hostile. One would think you suspect me of leading the wolves into the castle last night?” “I don’t suspect, Kiara. I know.” My voice was ice, my patience razor-thin. “Agatha is dead because of you.” Her expression faltered, just for a second, before she recovered with a slow smile. I hated the fact that she found this amusing. She had manipulated that poor girl and it had ended with her losing her life.

Inside my bedroom, I went straight to my closet's drawer and pulled out the small box I had been keeping since father Martin died. I took the pendant out and examined it closely. If I am not mistaken, this is similar to the one Catherine is wearing. Is it possible that she is the real Adele? Am I close to fulfilling my promise? My phone rang. Lucas's name appeared on the screen. "Yes, Lucas, what is it?" I concluded that something wrong happened back in the hospital. "Where did you meet these women?" He asked. I furrowed my brows before answering him also with a question, "Why, is there anything wrong?"

Isn't that already a ground to start attacking you? Clearly, the system was not in the very least impressed even if his host was now using her mind. But Agatha paid his indifference no mind. She dismissed its teasing tone and sighed in relief. Then not long after, as if she finally figured out what she should do while waiting for Dylan's report, she browsed something on the internet, memorized some details from it, then shut down the computer. Agatha strode towards the drawer and picked up a long black wool-cashmere coat. She turned off the lights before leaving. While she was stepping into the elevator, the system seemed to have thought of something so it asked.

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