Six people sit down to a sumptuous meal at a table laid for seven. In front of the empty place is a sprig of rosemary—”rosemary for remembrance.” A strange sentiment considering no one is likely to forget the night, exactly a year ago, that Rosemary Barton died at exactly the same table, her beautiful face unrecognizable, convulsed with pain and horror.
But then Rosemary had always been memorable—she had the ability to arouse strong passions in most people she met. In one case, strong enough to kill. . .
Agatha Christie’s genius for detective fiction is unparalleled. Her worldwide popularity is phenomenal, her characters engaging, her plots spellbinding. No one knows the human heart-or the dark passions that can stop it-better than Agatha Christie. She is truly the one and only Queen of Crime. Sparlkling Cyanide “Rosemary that’s for remembrance” Six people are thinking about beautiful Rosemary Barton, who died nearly a year before. There’s the loving sister, the long-suffering husband, the devoted secretary, the lovers, and the betrayed wife. None of them can forget Rosemary But did one of them murder her?