The Murder of Mr. Sachdeva by Prasenjeet Kumar

If you love Agatha Christie, or murder mysteries in general, read on ….

The murder of mr. sachdeva

Srinagar: Mr. Sachdeva suddenly collapses on the dance floor. His eyes lifeless, his jaw open, his whiskey glass shattered to smithereens, and some drink splashed all around him. On the eve of his daughter’s wedding.

His family doctor declares him dead on the spot. Probable cause: A sudden, but massive, cardiac arrest.

Ananya, his younger daughter, however, thinks otherwise. That someone mixed something in her papa’s drink.

This sets a bizarre chain of events where Geeta Ratan, a family friend, sets out to find who the murderer is. With no clues, CCTV footages, post-mortem or toxicology reports. Nothing.

 

Genre: FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Women Sleuths

Secondary Genre: FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Amateur Sleuth

Language: English

Keywords: Agatha Christie, Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot, Women Sleuths, Amateur Sleuths, Murder Mysteries, Crime Fiction, Detective Stories

Word Count: 20, 000 words

Sales info:

This book is from an author whose numerous books have been on the Amazon bestseller lists.


Sample text:

Chapter 1

Geeta Ratan was excited. Mr. Sachdeva’s elder daughter Aditi was getting married in Kashmir, and Geeta was invited. Ah, that would be quite a wonderful change, from her usual, dull, boring, routine in Delhi, won’t it?

Long story short. Mr. Sachdeva was a frequent visitor to the famous Gymkhana Club. That was Geeta’s second home too, where she spent days and long evenings doing nothing but observing people. You see, Geeta was neither a card player nor a gym rat. Even a sight of the swimming pool made her nose twitch and eyes water. As for tennis, she found the racquets too heavy and unwieldy. And table tennis was for the sissies. And billiards looked stupid … you get the idea!

But what dragged her day after day to the Club was the food that they served in their various dining rooms. Yes, their Chinese was decidedly Punjabi-Chinese, that you only get in India. And their Indian was only North Indian. But their Continental fare was something to die for. Geeta just loved their paper-thin cucumber-tomato sandwiches, their crumbed fish-fingers with Tartar sauce, their caramel custard, and their chicken baked with spinach, cheese, and cream.


Book translation status:

The book is available for translation into any language except those listed below:

LanguageStatus
Portuguese
Translation in progress. Translated by Esther Passos and Laisla Amorim Aguiar de Souza

Would you like to translate this book? Make an offer to the Rights Holder!



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