I am listening to Agatha Christie's "The Murder of Roger Ackroyd", and I cannot help but laugh at the mahjong game played in chapter 16. Apart from the subject of murder, it is so very similar to the conversations interspersed with mahjong terms that I have when I play the game casually with friends or family 
Source: https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/69087/pg69087-images.html#CHAPTER_XVI
East Wind passed, and we started a new hand in silence.
“What I was going to tell you just now was this,” said Caroline.
“Yes?” said Miss Ganett encouragingly.
“My idea about Ralph Paton, I mean.”
“Yes, dear,” said Miss Ganett, still more encouragingly. “Chow!”
“It’s a sign of weakness to Chow so early,” said Caroline severely. “You should go for a big hand.”
“I know,” said Miss Ganett. “You were saying—about Ralph Paton, you know?”
“Yes. Well, I’ve a pretty shrewd idea where he is.”
We all stopped to stare at her.
“This is very interesting, Miss Caroline,” said Colonel Carter. “All your own idea, eh?”
“Well, not exactly. I’ll tell you about it. You know that big map of the county we have in the hall?”
We all said Yes.
“As M. Poirot was going out the other day, he stopped and looked at it, and he made some remark—I can’t remember exactly what it was. Something about Cranchester being the only big town anywhere near us—which is true, of course. But after he had gone—it came to me suddenly.”
“What came to you?”
“His meaning. Of course Ralph is in Cranchester.”
It was at that moment that I knocked down the rack that held my pieces. My sister immediately reproved me for clumsiness, but half-heartedly. She was intent on her theory.
“Cranchester, Miss Caroline?” said Colonel Carter. “Surely not Cranchester! It’s so near.”
“That’s exactly it,” cried Caroline triumphantly. “It seems quite clear by now that he didn’t get away from198 here by train. He must simply have walked into Cranchester. And I believe he’s there still. No one would dream of his being so near at hand.”
I pointed out several objections to the theory, but when once Caroline has got something firmly into her head, nothing dislodges it.
“And you think M. Poirot has the same idea,” said Miss Ganett thoughtfully. “It’s a curious coincidence, but I was out for a walk this afternoon on the Cranchester road, and he passed me in a car coming from that direction.”
We all looked at each other.
“Why, dear me,” said Miss Ganett suddenly, “I’m Mah Jong all the time, and I never noticed it.”
Caroline’s attention was distracted from her own inventive exercises. She pointed out to Miss Ganett that a hand consisting of mixed suits and too many Chows was hardly worth going Mah Jong on. Miss Ganett listened imperturbably and collected her counters.
“Yes, dear, I know what you mean,” she said. “But it rather depends on what kind of a hand you have to start with, doesn’t it?”
“You’ll never get the big hands if you don’t go for them,” urged Caroline.