SHIRLEY Koster directed this Agatha Christie-type whodunit thriller with fun, twists and laughs. Mercifully, Koster stopped short of an all-out farce, but could not help dipping her toe in a bit of pratfalling.

So we got the inept police inspector, played by Pete Hazell, his put-upon assistant, Russell Bailey, a retired army colonel, Dave Allan, his dominating wife Sue Peatey, bumbling, drink-loving, insolent butler - there's always a sense of expectation whenever he appears on stage, Bob Elliot, the village spinster, the amazing 91 year old Noreen Kegan, a country-house owner, Lois Durbin, and her niece Amy-Karen Watterston, as well as a flouncy Frenchman, Ash Ryan, and a supercilious socialite, Michelle Anderson.

No sacred cows are spared. This amateur company, Hazlemere Players relished pricking pompousness and double standards.

Shots were fired. Characters killed. Mysteries created and solved, twists, turns flowing as fast as the puns, malapropism and comedy mispronunciations.

Motives everywhere and, the final resolution from the inspector, or was it Thompkins or Miss Maple. Inspector Pratt fell, broke things, got entangled and so on.

Constable Thompkins was more in danger from his superior than from any criminal. The stagey Frenchmen started with an accent from somewhere in the Urals, but soon we got a reason for this Allo-Alloism. Set design, furniture, atmosphere helped the plot and story line.

The initial scene-setting took its time. After this the pace picks up to a comfortable leafy-suburb standard. This was a good enjoyable shot at Murdered to Death. With a bit of polish, this production would be fit for the Swan.

By John Bajina