Auburn-haired, sun-bronzed, Arlena Marshall lay on the beach, dead. So many people could have killed her. Any one of them had, or thought they had reason to kill her. That was the day we spoke of evil, evil under the sun. Enter Hercule Poirot and his little grey cells.
The ephemera: vintage dictionary page , vintage photo reproduction, snippet from vintage map, vintage registered mail sticker, vintage poison label, vintage game piece.
Size: 5 inches square on wooden block