Hercule Poirot sleuths a ghost in Venice

Brent Northup

“A Haunting in Venice” (PG-13)

At the Cinemark

One of the great tragedies of my Port Angeles childhood was a lost book.

In grade school I inhaled Hardy Boys mysteries. I carried my latest book everywhere, including to school.

I believe it was third grade when I stuffed “The Great Airport Mystery” in my bag and headed up Oak Street to Jefferson School on my bike.

At the end of the day, the mystery was missing. I searched everywhere.

Did I leave it somewhere? Did a jealous classmate pilfer my treasure? Should I conduct an investigation and bring the Hardy thief to justice? I wasn’t that brave.

I went on to the next volume, hoping the lost book would magically reappear.

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My love of mysteries continued, more on screen than in print. I loved the mind-bending tales of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie.

But my passion depended greatly on which actor or actress played the detective.

My favorite Sherlock Holmes actors: The original Basil Rathbone, and Benedict Cumberbatch.

My favorite Miss Marples: Angela Lansbury and, of

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