The Eleventh Little Indian (1979) was a light-fingered tribute to Agatha Christie and mystery formulas--but this equally jigsaw-puzzle-ish concoction mostly just clumps along. Wotan Grun, self-appointed intellectual leader of Strasbourg, lives in an ancestral riverside mansion and pursues the family trade of bookbinding--in the company of young second wife Edwige, rebellious daughter Claire, student son Denis (with girlfriend Dyana), and retired policeman Noel Loiseau (who has a separate apartment on the premises). When Dyana's body is seen floating in the river and then turns up in Grun's workrooms, everyone seems to have an alibi. Tedious questioning ensues. . . until Inspector Dullac tortures the pieces into an ingenious but hard-to-believe solution. And, except for one jaunty moment when husband-and-wife psychiatrists are given an acid bath, there's lots of labor with little wit. Disappointing.