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he's my favorite Muppet https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3FZ7MQJ1lBE
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Sep 4, 2022 11:38
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Chapter 11: The Case for the Prosecution We start with another time jump! Not just days or weeks, Hastings’ narration picks up two months after John’s arrest. Not only does he not say anything about the intervening time, Christie specifically has him say that he has nothing to say about it, beyond noting that Mary has been active in defnding him and proclaiming his innocence. Poirot is the one to point out the obvious fact Hastings has been missing, that Mary was incredibly jealous regarding her husband, and that was the reason for her strange attitude and her argument with Emily, she was certain he was cheating on her and thought Emily had proof. Also, it was John who argued with Emily that same day, not Alfred, he was actually telling the truth about that. Apparently everybody who overheard the argument was incapable of telling the two mens’ voices apart. Two months later, Hasting and Poirot are apparently only just now discussing the case again. Hastings is still shocked that John was picked up by the cops, rather than Lawrence, and blames Poirot for not warning him. He also randomly drops the news that Bauerstein was acquitted, though Hastings is still certain about his guilt, because Poirot said so. Speaking of things Poirot says, he believes that, ultiamtely, John will be acquitted. And he’s upset that the last evidence he needs to provably solve the case hasn’t appeared. And he tells Hastings that, in order for his plan to succeed, Mary must not know that he’s still investigating, she must believe he’s trying to help John. That’s why,officially, Japp discovered all the evidence so far. The Cavendish household set up shop in London (they were previously established to have a house there, but Hastings specifically says they took a house in Kensington, I’m confused, but assuming the other house is too small for the whole household or poorly located compared to this one), with Poirot staying with them, while Hastings has gone back to work, thankfully at a desk job with the War Office, rather than going back to the front lines, and presumably returned to his own home. From the start, the prosecution’s case looks pretty damning. Mr. Philips, K. C posted:The murder, he said, was a most premeditated and cold-blooded one. It was neither more nor less than the deliberate poisoning of a fond and trusting woman by the stepson to whom she had been more than a mother. Ever since his boyhood, she had supported him. He and his wife had lived at Styles Court in every luxury, surrounded by her care and attention. She had been their kind and generous benefactress. John has a competent enough lawyer, so he’s not complete up the creek yet. His plan, as Poirot describes it, is to create so much confusion among the jury as whether John or Lawrence is guilty that they’ll be left hung, unable to decide which brother did it. He successfully throws doubt as to which brother bought the fake beard (which did turn out to have been requested by mail and sent to Mr. L. Cavendish), as well as who had access to the poison (the bottle for which was found hidden in John’s room), so his plan might have merit. And of course, Lawrence’s fingerprints on the poison ottle at the dispensary are a red flag. Poirot is displeased and says that things are going badly. Hastings takes this as good news, that his friend is going to get off. When the trial is adjourned for the day, he heads straight for his room, where he hopes to solve the mystery by means of the only tools available to him. Arthur Hastings and Hercule Poirot posted:I followed him. Still frowning, he went across to the desk and took out a small pack of patience cards. Then he drew up a chair to the table, and, to my utter amazement, began solemnly to build card houses! Never had the knack for card houses myself. Hastings notes as Poirot rebuilds his house that Poirot does have the steadiest hands, that he’s only ever seen them shake once, when he was enraged at finding Emily’s dispatch case forced open so early on in the investigation, Hastings saw his hands shake then as he tried to regain control by arranging ornaments on the mantle. But he gets cut off when Poirot, inspired by his words, hits his moment of serendipity. Arthur Hastings and Hercule Poirot posted:But I stopped suddenly. For Poirot, uttering a hoarse and inarticulate cry, again annihilated his masterpiece of cards, and putting his hands over his eyes swayed backwards and forwards, apparently suffering the keenest agony. And then Poirot was hit by a car and died and the following 30+ books were about somebody else. Maybe his twin brother. And he stays gone, not returning before the chapter ends.
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Sep 10, 2022 13:31
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Chapter 12: The Last Link Poirot doesn’t bother to show up until the next afternoon, bringing Japp and Summerhaye with him, and telling Mary that he needs to gather everybody together at once! It’s finally happening, the famous parlor room scene. Or salon scene, as the case may be, though my limited knowledge of fancy houses suggests that it’s the same thing. Poirot gathers all the household members, Mary, Lawrence, Cynthia, Evie, and the two maids, Dorcas and Annie, but refuses to tell them anything because he’s awaiting one more important puzzle piece: Alfred Inglethorpe. Obviously, nobody wants to see him, and Evie threatens to leave if he shows his face, but Poirot manages to calm her down through the magic of nonspecified actions. Evie Howard and Hercule Poirot posted:Miss Howard rose immediately from her seat. Truly, Hercule Poirot is the ultimate diplomancer. Minutes later, Alfred shows up and Poirot begins his first parlor room scene (first written at least, he does this with a level of practiced showmanship indicating that he’s well used to it). At long last, he presents all the facts. Hercule Poirot posted:I found: first, a fragment of green material; second, a stain on the carpet near the window, still damp; thirdly, an empty box of bromide powders. He finally explains the importance of these random, seemingly unimportant pieces of evidence. The green thread came from a green land armlet. I’m not clear on what this is (when I think armlet, I think something tied around the arm, but I don’t know what that would have to do with anything), but Poirot tells me it’s worn by people who work the land, and that onl Mary fits that description. So she was the one who entered Emily’s room the night of the murder, through the connecting door from Cynthia’s room. Her story of having been awoken when Emily knocked over her nightstand was bullshit, she was awake because she was already in the room looking for something, only to be caught off guard by Emily waking up, convulsing, and pulling at her bell rope for help. She was the one who spilled the candle grease Poirot noted way back when. Lawrence assumes she must have been the one to destroy the new will, but Poirot immediately shoots him down. No, Emily destroyed the new will herself, that’s why shewanted a fire lit in her room on a hot summer day. Poirot finally explains the deal with the timeline of the arguments Emily had that day. The first was with John, in which she was heard stating “You need not think that any fear of publicity, or scandal between husband and wife will deter me". Then she wrote up the new will, disinheriting John and leaving everything to Alfred. But she needed stamps to send a letter to her lawyer. Her desk didn’t have any, so she checked Alfred’s desk, and found a letter, one that distressed her, that Mary thought was proof of John’s infidleity and she demanded to see it. It was that letter that Mary snuck into Emily’s room that night to find. She drugged both Emily’s cocoa and Cynthia’s coffee with an unspecified “safe, but effectual, narcotic” (just the sort of thing everybody has in their medicine cabinet, right?), so she could sneak in that night. This was what delayed Emily’s death despite her not eating the night before, Poirot claims narcotics delay the effects of strychnine. The missing coffee cup Lawrence was sent on a goose chase for was Cynthia’s, Mary had dumped it in a vase to hide the evidence of the drugging, but had no chance at hiding the drugged cocoa; too many witnesses. Luckily for her, it was only tested for the poison until Poirot had his little idea. Mary admits to the truth of everything he said. She has no reason not to, after all, it’s not like he’s fingering her for the murder. Then Poirot drops the bombshell, Emily’s coffee was unimportant, because she never drank it. That’s why there was a coffee stain under the smashed cup. It was never the source of the poison. It turns out that Lawrence was actually right, the strychnine she was poisoned with was her own prescribed tonic. It turns out that bromide salts mixed with the tonic would cause all the strychnine to crystalize and fall to the bottom of the bottle, making the last dose lethal. I’m not sure if Christie had a vested interest in pharmacology before writing this book, knew somebody she could ask about the subject, or if any of this is based on a real murder, this feels surprisingly well researched. I suppose it could also be total bullshit. Poirot then follows up with an explanation that the murder was actually planned to be committed the night before. Emily’s bell rope had been sabotaged and Cynthia was away for the evening, so nobody would have heard her and tried to help. But Emily forgot to take her medication the previous day, delaying the final fatal dose. Then Poirot produces his trump card! Hercule Poirot and The Murderer posted:"A letter in the murderer's own hand-writing, mes amis! Had it been a little clearer in its terms, it is possible that Mrs. Inglethorp, warned in time, would have escaped. As it was, she realized her danger, but not the manner of it." Yeah, no prize for guessing that Alfred Inglethorp really is the murderer after all. Christie likes loving with her reader’s assumptions; in this case, she made a character so obviously guilty that he might as well have been wearing a huge sign reading “RED HERRING”. This is something else she gets better at with time, but I think it worked well here. I certainly assume Alfred was innocent buy the time I got this far my first time reading the book. Poirot sidesteps Alfred’s clumsy attempt to attack him (the closest these books really get to Branagh’s prolonged fight scenes). Hercule Poirot posted:"Messieurs, mesdames," said Poirot, with a flourish, "let me introduce you to the murderer, Mr. Alfred Inglethorp!"
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Sep 15, 2022 12:23
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Sep 16, 2022 21:25
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little grey cells strike again
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Sep 16, 2022 21:40
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Chapter 13: Poirot Explains The narrative picks up again days later. Alfred and Evie have been arrested, John’s been freed and returned home, and Hastings wants some drat answers out of Poirot. In later books, Poirot’s explanation of the details would be part of the parlor scene, but here Christie saved it for later, have only the relevant details for proving the true guilty party established in that scene. Hastings, of course, is pissed at Poirot for lying to him, but Poirot pulls the old “well I never SAID that John Cavendish was guilty, you just assumed that”, before explaining that he couldn’t tell Hastings the truth because Hasting is incapable of lying believably and would have given everything away, though he does his best to frame it as a compliment. Hercule Poirot and Arthur Hastings posted:You see, my friend, you have a nature so honest, and a countenance so transparent, that--enfin, to conceal your feelings is impossible! If I had told you my ideas, the very first time you saw Mr. Alfred Inglethorp that astute gentleman would have--in your so expressive idiom--'smelt a rat'! And then, bon jour to our chances of catching him!" He goes on to explain the numerous things he said that Hastings (and likely the reader) took out of context. He spoke of the fact that John Cavendish would certainly be acquitted and of the difficulty of bringing the murderer to justice in the same breath, but you were obviously meant to figure out those were separate people! Early on, he kept talking about not wanting Alfred arrested, but that was a matter of timing. He realized that Alfred was actively trying to make himself look bad to get arrested so that his alibi would prove him innocent in court, he’d be declared not guilty, and be protected against double jeopardy. Speaking of Alfred’s alibi, Poirot explains that it was Evie who disguised herself as him and bought the poison. They’re cousins, and therefore resemble each other, and she’s been frequently described as having masculine traits (height, voice, bearing, etc.), so by donning the stuff that obviously marks Alfred as Alfred (his well known to the villagers black clothes, glasses, and beard), she could easily pass as him to those who only know him from a distance. And she was the one who masterminded the entire plan, having timed her argument with Emily so that she would be gone from the house by the time Emily took the last, fatal dose of her strychnine tonic. Even when the plan hiccupped because she didn’t die the night they’d planned for, it still went off without a hitch the next night. And they probably would have gotten away with it if Alfred hadn’t started writing that letter to Evie talking openly about their plan. That letter is what sent Poirot in a mad frenzy back to Styles a few chapters ago. Hastings reminded Poirot of the two times he’d straightened out the ornaments on Emily’s mantle. But why would he have had to organize them a second time… unless somebody had messed with them between the two times. After forcing the lock on her dispatch case and reobtaining the letter proving his guilt, Alfred had been desperate to hide it and short on time (Poirot, Hastings, John, and Wells were on their way up to the bedroom), and he couldn’t risk having it on his person, what if he was caught and searched? So he cut it into strips, rolled them up, and stuck them in the jar on the mantle, identical to the paper spills already in that jar. Also, for maximum ewwiness, the cousins Alfred and Evie were also apparently in a relationship. I can't imagine any reason for Christie to have included that detail except to make the villains seem gross to the readers. On the other hand, they're only second cousins, and I'm not sure waht level of consanguinity would be considered gross by Christie's original audience. As for Lawrence’s oddities making him seem to Hastings to be the guilty party, Poirot has an explanation for that as well. He believed Cynthia was the murderer and was desperately trying to cover for her. Because he’s in love with her. Hastings, of course, has heard directly from Cynthia that he simply can’t stand her, and she’s unbothered by it. And Hastings believed that because he’s kind of an idiot sometimes. Poirot goes on to say that he even engineered the rekindling of affection between John and Mary. Even though he was cheating on her, Poirot was certain John still loved his wife, and vice versa. The circumstances of their marriage had caused them to drift apart. So he let John be arrested and get put on trial, knowing that it would bring them back together. Arthur Hastings and Hercule Poirot posted:I looked at Poirot in silent amazement. The colossal cheek of the little man! Who on earth but Poirot would have thought of a trial for murder as a restorer of conjugal happiness! Yeah, sure Poirot, except for the part where if anything had gone wrong, an innocent man would have been executed because of your fun little romance games. Speaking of fun little romance games, these events have somehow gotten Lawrence and Cynthia together too. Cynthia Murdoch posted:Cynthia fidgeted with a little tassel for some moments, then, suddenly exclaiming: "You dears!" kissed first me and then Poirot, and rushed out of the room again. Hastings, however, is disappointed. Two attractive women he met at Styles, one unhappy in her marriage, the other suffering unrequited love, and now they’re both happily attached and he’s all alone. Ah well, at least you have Poirot, Hastings. God knows I’m sometimes not sure how you manage to tie your shoes without him. And that's The Mysterious Affair at Styles. As a book, it's a drat good read. As a mystery novel, it's satisfying, the twist is sufficiently executed that you can recognize the signs on a second reading, but not so telegraphed as to be obvious. As a first book by an author, it's an amazing start to a long and storied career. Next up, Murder on the Links. Truthkeeper fucked around with this message at 08:58 on Dec 12, 2022 |
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Sep 24, 2022 01:37
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Charles Darwin's son George was also interested in cousin marriage (his parents were 1st cousins) back in 1875, so about 40 years before Christie. He did some stats research to try to quantify how often they happened and how healthy the children were: Marriages Between First Cousins in England and Their Effects He concludes George Darwin posted:It thus appears that in London, comprising all classes, the cousin marriages are about half what they are in the upper middle class, that is probably 1 1/2 per cent. In urban districts they are about 7/12 ths of what they are in the upper middle classes, that is, probably 2 per cent. In rural districts they are about two-thirds of what they are in the upper middle classes, that is, probably 2 1/4 per cent. In the aristocracy probably 4 1/2 per cent Those are first cousins, Christie's contemporaries would not have blinked at all for a 2nd cousin marriage.
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Sep 24, 2022 02:08
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Foxfire_ posted:Charles Darwin's son George was also interested in cousin marriage (his parents were 1st cousins) back in 1875, so about 40 years before Christie. He did some stats research to try to quantify how often they happened and how healthy the children were: Marriages Between First Cousins in England and Their Effects I supposed I should stop letting my 21st century American values guide me. But if that's the case, I can't for the life of me figure out what the point was of hooking Alfred and Evie up, it adds absolutely nothing to the narrative. Maybe Christie just wanted to take another knock at Hastings. "Even the murderers are getting more action than you, Arthur!" Or maybe it's a reference to other novels of the time period I'm not familiar with.
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Sep 24, 2022 02:56
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 (The) Murder on the Links (1923) Various editions differ on whether not the title begins with ‘The’, the version I’m reading doesn’t, but my research indicates that the original did. So I went with a cover image that had it (and is a better image quality than mine has anyway). No blurb this time, so let’s jump in. Chapter 1 – A Fellow Traveller Somebody posted:"Hell!" said the Duchess. Christie, once again using Hastings as her mouthpiece character, opens the book by bringing up this old chestnut. Nobody exactly knows the origin of this line, said to be the attempt of a young author to immediately catch the reader’s attention, but it predates this book by a number of years, and Hastings refers to it as being a well-known in-joke by this point. He goes on to explain that he brought it up because this story has a similar beginning. Except instead of a duchess, it’s a French woman Hastings met on a train. Hastings and Poirot are sharing an apartment in London, because that’s what English bachelors of the period do, especially when the author is still trying to hard to crib form Doyle’s playblook. Hastings, at this point, is out of the military. He’s not a detective like he claimed he wanted to do after the war last book, maybe living with Poirot soured him on the idea. Instead, he describes himself as “sort of private secretary now to an MP”. But really, what Hastings does isn’t important, because, from the reader’s perspective, Hastings isn’t important. He’s there to tell us what Poirot does and to say things that serendipitously give Poirot the answer to the final puzzle. Some business required Hastings to travel to Paris, and in a time when air travel is the exception rather than the norm, that means train to ferry to another train, and then the reverse when you return home. It’s on that return trip where the story opens with Hastings’ attention being drawn by a woman swearing out loud. Arthur Hastings posted:Now I am old-fashioned. A woman, I consider, should be womanly. I have no patience with the modern neurotic girl who jazzes from morning till night, smokes like a chimney, and uses language which would make a Billingsgate fishwoman blush! Not sure if that’s Agatha critiquing the youth of the period (plenty of that in later books) or specifically showing that Hastings is an old-fashioned sort of guy who prefers an old-fashioned sort of woman. I’m suddenly curious about the popularity of jazz in early 1920s Britain. The girl notices the 30-something man is giving her the once over, and naturally assumes that she offended him with her horrible obscenity. Then begins to make fun of him. Cinderella and Arthur Hastings posted:'Dear me, we've shocked the kind gentleman!' she observed to an imaginary audience. 'I apologize for my language! Most unladylike, and all that, but, oh, Lord, there's reason enough for it! Do you know I've lost my only sister?' She just might be my favorite character in the series so far. Having made her little drama, she immediately hides behind a paper (Christie calls it a comic paper, I’m not clear if she means comic book or newspaper comics), looking at Hastings over the top waiting for his stolid English stoicism to break. When he finally cracks a smile, she declares them friends. And her laughter makes him laugh as well. Cinderella and Arthur Hastings posted:'Say you're sorry about my sister -' Did Christie just invent the manic pixie dream girl trope? Hastings’ new friend (still unnamed in the text) explains to him that she and her sister, although American by birth, have lived in England all their lives, raised as child acrobats, and now do a variety stage act. Apparently, Vaudeville (clearly the idea, even if Christie hasn’t heard the name) is new and going to be big, with lots of money in it. Clearly the poor girl hasn’t realized that, in most cases, it’s not the performers getting that big money. By this point, the two have hit it off quite well, talking merrily until an announcement that the train is passing through Amiens causes Hastings to think about the war. Which leads to him telling the girl about how he was wounded, leading to his being invalided and then later becoming the MP’s secretary. And how his job is so boring, his only joy in life is living vicariously through his roommate, who has set up shop in London as a private detective, trading off of the notoriety of the Styles case, which the girl has heard of, of course, and he spends the rest of the trip describing the details to her. Hastings is disappointed when she disappears on him when they reach Calais and the ferry port. He’d hoped to spend more time with her on the boat, ostensibly looking out for her, but she won’t be on the ferry at all, and won’t even tell him her real name, only giving him the alias ‘Cinderella’ that I’ve used for her. Alas, mon pauvre ami Hastings, love is not for you yet. All you get, for now, is an epic bromance with a short, heavyset Belgian man with a silly mustache. Truthkeeper fucked around with this message at 07:38 on Oct 4, 2022 |
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Oct 4, 2022 07:33
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I swear this was only supposed to be a few lines long and then suddenly it was hours later  Truthkeeper posted:Some business required Hastings to travel to Paris, and in a time when air travel is the exception rather than the norm, that means train to ferry to another train, and then the reverse when you return home. I say, the idea of all this glamorous international train travel seems like rather an appealing setting for a murder mystery! quote:I’m suddenly curious about the popularity of jazz in early 1920s Britain. Jazz has a very interesting history in Britain, and occupies a frankly bizarre cultural space compared to America; it came over with the doughboys in 1917 and 1918, then Musicians Union regulations made it very difficult for American jazzmen to come to the country to play. Without much of a native black community to sustain it (there were definitely more black people in the country than pop history would have us believe, but they're far more of a minority than would be the case post-Windrush) and without any way to push dance bands out of the way in its early days, it's always struggled to gain much attention in popular culture and has mostly been a very rebellious-upper-middle/upper-class form of music enjoyed by a relative minority. This leads us to the archetypal English jazzman: Humphrey Lyttleton, who was educated at Eton, and was a close relative of Viscount Cobham. Its heyday, such as it was, was the Second World War, particularly 1941-1945; the most famous English jazz musicians are Harry Secombe, Spike Milligan, and Peter Sellers. They met playing jazz at the end of the war, but gained their fame in radio comedy with The Goon Show, the source of just about all modern alternative/surreal comedy. I've always been amazed that SA has never picked up on them, given that Peter Sellers later became a major movie star, our sense of humour is very much informed by their sense of humour, and they're literally called Goons. quote:Having made her little drama, she immediately hides behind a paper (Christie calls it a comic paper, I’m not clear if she means comic book or newspaper comics), looking at Hastings over the top waiting for his stolid English stoicism to break The comic paper is the forerunner of what Americans call comic books and we call just comics. British comics were almost exclusively for children (and the very young at heart) until the success of 2000AD from 1977, who most famously gave us Judge Dredd and Alan Moore. Here we're still about 10-15 years from the launch of the canonical British comic, the Beano (home of Dennis the Menace). Without further context I'd assume this was likely Comic Cuts, which reprinted a wide range of short newspaper-style comic strips without much regard for copyright. Combined with her language, I'd also call it a pretty clear signal that Christie is presenting her as being uneducated/lower-class/dim. However, we're still in France, and she's specifically reading a French comic. This is potentially a great deal more interesting; the Francophone bande dessinee tradition has often aimed itself at a far more mature audience closer to what in English we call the graphic novel. Here we're still six years away from the first appearance of Tintin, and French-speaking creators are only just starting to adopt Anglo-American innovations like speech balloons instead of captions and publishing in dedicated magazines. This could be a hint that she's got more about her than Hastings sees; or it could be that Christie intended her to be reading a French girls' magazine such as La Semaine de Suzette, which printed Becassine and others; or (and I suspect most likely) it could be Christie thinking her intended audience won't know any of this and just wants them to think of something like Comic Cuts but smelling faintly of garlic and onions. quote:Hastings’ new friend (still unnamed in the text) explains to him that she and her sister, although American by birth, have lived in England all their lives, raised as child acrobats, and now do a variety stage act. Apparently, Vaudeville (clearly the idea, even if Christie hasn’t heard the name) is new and going to be big, with lots of money in it. There is a direct British equivalent to vaudeville in the music hall, which has just hit its peak and is about to begin its long decline. I think what she means by "we've got a new show" is "we've got a new act to appear on a music hall bill", not "we've got a whole new form of entertainment". quote:By this point, the two have hit it off quite well, talking merrily until an announcement that the train is passing through Amiens causes Hastings to think about the war. Which leads to him telling the girl about how he was wounded, leading to his being invalided and then later becoming the MP’s secretary. Hastings does specifically now use the word "wounded". Amiens could hardly fail to make him think of the war; it gave its name to the first British battle in the final Big Push of 1918 that literally won the war by accident. Incidentally, British MPs had only been given salaries in 1911, and received no expenses to pay office staff until 1987. Either the MP is paying Hastings from private means, or his party is picking up the bill. Trin Tragula fucked around with this message at 23:40 on Oct 4, 2022 |
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Oct 4, 2022 23:24
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Trin Tragula posted:I swear this was only supposed to be a few lines long and then suddenly it was hours later Yeah, that happened to me while summarizing the chapter, which is very short and has very little happen in it, but is just packed full of characterization. For all I harp on about his nonimportance, I feel like Hastings was fleshed out more in this one chapter than the entirety of the previous book. And we already know more about 'Cinderella' than we did Mary Cavendish or Cynthia Murdoch. quote:Jazz has a very interesting history in Britain, and occupies a frankly bizarre cultural space compared to America; it came over with the doughboys in 1917 and 1918, then Musicians Union regulations made it very difficult for American jazzmen to come to the country to play. Without much of a native black community to sustain it (there were definitely more black people in the country than pop history would have us believe, but they're far more of a minority than would be the case post-Windrush) and without any way to push dance bands out of the way in its early days, it's always struggled to gain much attention in popular culture and has mostly been a very rebellious-upper-middle/upper-class form of music enjoyed by a relative minority. This leads us to the archetypal English jazzman: Humphrey Lyttleton, who was educated at Eton, and was a close relative of Viscount Cobham. This is the deep history lore I crave. I was going all "surely not that Peter Sellers right up until you told me, yes, that Peter Sellers. quote:However, we're still in France, and she's specifically reading a French comic. This is potentially a great deal more interesting; the Francophone bande dessinee tradition has often aimed itself at a far more mature audience closer to what in English we call the graphic novel. Here we're still six years away from the first appearance of Tintin, and French-speaking creators are only just starting to adopt Anglo-American innovations like speech balloons instead of captions and publishing in dedicated magazines. This could be a hint that she's got more about her than Hastings sees; or it could be that Christie intended her to be reading a French girls' magazine such as La Semaine de Suzette, which printed Becassine and others; or (and I suspect most likely) it could be Christie thinking her intended audience won't know any of this and just wants them to think of something like Comic Cuts but smelling faintly of garlic and onions. My familiarity with French comics begins and ends with a bit of Asterix a read a few years back, but I do have at least a passing familiarity with Tintin (the only other fictional Belgian I know besides Poirot), so my assumption of comics in that part of the world did lean toward more mature works. quote:Hastings does specifically now use the word "wounded". Of course, he could also be speaking in a general sense to cover up a non-physical infirmity that would have seen him invalided, as we brought up way back up-thread. Wouldn't want to mention being drummed out for shell shock when trying to impress a pretty girl with your war stories. My modern sensibilities keep wanting to go off on this 30-something guy hitting on a teenager, but I keep reminding myself that it's the style of the times. quote:Incidentally, British MPs had only been given salaries in 1911, and received no expenses to pay office staff until 1987. Either the MP is paying Hastings from private means, or his party is picking up the bill. My libertarian streak appreciates the thrift of tax money not being used to pay for their staff. Christie very wisely made no mention of which party Hastings' employer is with, or even who they represent, so I suppose the reader can make whatever assumptions they like. Hastings even specifically mentions only having a couple hours of work to do per day, there's no mention if he's working full days doing nothing, or just knocking off early after he finishes. I don't know if he's drawing a pension from his time in service, but he certainly seems to have no issues taking time off work to jet around with Poirot later in this book. I suppose he could be Poirot's kept bro, but that seems unlikely.
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Oct 5, 2022 01:45
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Chapter 2 – An Appeal for Help Our story properly begins the day after Hastings’ return trip, when he sits down to breakfast with Poirot. There’s no mention of Poirot’s manservent (alternately named George or Georges in various appearances), I’m not sure if he’s with Poirot yet or if he does his own cooking. Hastings takes the time to run us through Poirot’s physical description again. Arthur Hastings posted:Elsewhere, I have described Hercule Poirot. An extraordinary little man! Height, five feet four inches, egg-shaped head carried a little to one side, eyes that shone green when he was excited, stiff military moustache, air of dignity immense! He was neat and dandified in appearance. For neatness of any kind he had an absolute passion. To see an ornament set crookedly, or a speck of dust, or a slight disarray in one's attire, was torture to the little man until he could ease his feelings by remedying the matter. 'Order' and 'Method' were his gods. He had a certain disdain for tangible evidence, such as footprints and cigarette ash, and would maintain that taken by themselves, they would never enable a detective to solve a problem. Then he would tap his egg-shaped head with absurd complacency, and remark with great satisfaction: This is the first use of several key phrases that will frequently show up in descriptions of Hercule Poirot: his eyes that shine when he’s excited (though we don’t have the cat-like descriptor that will later be applied to them), his dandy appearance, his obsession with ‘order and method’ and casual disregard of physical evidence (contrary to the last book). Here Christie draws our attention to the stiffness of his mustache, and later books will verify that it’s waxed, but this description makes no mention of it being unusually large. I’ll also note here that we never get a physical description of Hastings, because he’s not important. Christie is still borrowing too much from Doyle; today, Poirot is in a melancholy due to a lack of intriguing cases, and he laments that there are no ‘criminals of method’ to make his life interesting. He must still be bringing in a tidy income from the cases he does take if he can be so choosy, and he remakrs while going through his mail (mostly bills) that he’s been living extravagantly in his old age. A far step from the poor refugee living off the good will of Emily Inglethorp in the last book. He’s received a letter from Japp, the Scotland Yard detective from the previous book, mentioning another case Poirot recently helped out with in Wales, “He merely thanks me (in his fashion) for a little point in the Aberystwyth Case on which I was able to set him right”. His other letters include a request for his services from a countess (which he dismisses as “another lap-dog”, which I take to mean he thinks she wants him to find her missing dog), but also a letter that gets his attention, and he hands over to Hastings to get his opinion. quote:Villa Geneviève Hastings agrees that this is out of the ordinary, and immediately assumes that Poirot will go. Poirot agrees, but wants Hastings to come with him. Because it’s not like he has a job or anything that would preclude a sudden trip out of the country with no warning. Not that Hastings is complaining, he clearly wants to go, and is only worried that this Mr. Renauld make not want some English interloper interfering in his private affair. Hastings recognizes the name as that of a millionaire from South America. Poirot tries to draw his attention to the letter’s postscript, noting that it wasn’t hurriedly written after the fact, as postscripts usually are. Arthur Hastings and Hercule Poirot posted:I considered. He very methodically and caluclatedly wrote something, the act of a desperate man! Of course! Hastings claims not to know much about Renauld, but he knows that he has houses in a swanky part of London and in Hertfordshire, in addition to the address in France he wrote from, and that he spent most of his life in Chile and Argentina. Oddly enough, Hastings’ bizarre knowledge of people from Soouth America may make more sense in later books. The two of them pack and get out the door, doing the exact same trip Hastings just came home from, train from London to Dover, ferry from Dover to Calais. Despite Poirto sending a telegram to Renauld informing him of their arrival time, the promised car to meet them hasn’t arrived, but Poirot isn’t discouraged, he just hires one to take them to Merlinville. Hercule Poirot and Arthur Hastings posted:My spirits were at their highest, but my little friend was observing me gravely. I share that feeling Poirot, but that’s probably because I’m holding a novel written about tis affair. And because I’ve read this book before. Nonsensical foreshadowing like this is another habit Christie will break with practice. Poirot’s driver has to stop several times to ask for directions once they get to Merlinville, and on one of those occasions, Hastings’ attention is caught up by the only thing more important to him than living vicariously through Poirot: another pretty girl. Hercule Poirot and Arthur Hastings posted:My eyes were fascinated by the girl who still stood, with one hand on the gate, watching us. I am an admirer of beauty, and here was one whom nobody could have passed without remark. Very tall, with the proportions of a young goddess, her uncovered golden head gleaming in the sunlight, I swore to myself that she was one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen. As we swung up the rough road, I turned my head to look after her. Their discussion about the girl is cut off when they arrive at Renauld’s house, only to be denied entry by the police sergeant standing outside. But why would the police be guarding the man’s house, denying people entry? quote:But at that moment we drew up at a big green gate, and, simultaneously, we both uttered an exclamation. Before it stood an imposing sergent de ville. He held up his hand to bar our way. Well that’s a downer. Oh well, no work for Poirot to do here, might as well go home.
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Oct 6, 2022 10:50
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Truthkeeper posted:Well that’s a downer. Oh well, no work for Poirot to do here, might as well go home.   
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Oct 6, 2022 11:15
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Chapter 3 – At the Villa Geneviève God save me from all of these loving diacritics and non-English letters. The man he traveled internationally to see is dead, and this is a big loving deal to Poirot, Hastings notes “his eyes blazing with excitement”. Of course, the sergeant on duty isn’t going to answer the questions of some random Belgian with a silly mustache. And Poirot doesn’t even try convincing him, instead going immediately over his head by asking if the police commissary is present; upon learning he is, Poirot asks for a note, written on his calling card, to be delivered to him. This works out even better than Poirot had hoped for, he clearly intended to just trade on the guy recognizing his name, but instead the commissary turned out to be an old friend of his. Lucien Bex and Hercule Poirot posted:'Mon vieux, I have not seen you since 1909, that time in Ostend. You have information to give which may assist us?' I am not so mature as to not crack a smile when I see a perfectly innocuous line about a Frenchman ejaculating. Not the last time Poirot will get his foot into an investigation by virtue of who he knows. As they walk, Bex explains the current state of the investigation to Poirot and Hastings. Hautet, the examining magistrate (from context, I’m assuming a form of forensic specialist, but ‘magistrate’ makes it sound like he works in some judicial capacity) is looking over the crime scene, they’re expecting a detective from Paris (from the French national police agency, the Sûreté) to take over soon. Renauld’s letter to Poirot has invalidated their current theories, but doesn’t give enough information to build a new one. Since Poirot is here, Bex wants him to help with the witness interrogations, and expects that he’ll be a great help to the Sûreté detective. Because that’s exactly what big city fancy cops like, right? Jurisdictional friction with foreign retired cops turned private detectives? According to the information they have, one of the servants, Françoise, found the front door open when she came down that morning. After checking that nothing was stolen, she assumed her boss had gone for an early walk and forgotten to close it. He’s never done that before, but he’s English, and she assumes that means he’s an unpredictable lunatic who might do anything at any time. Meanwhile, another servant, Léonie, went to wake up Renauld’s wife, only to find her bound and gagged in her bedroom. That’s when somebody brought word to the house that Renauld was found dead, stabbed in the back, lying in an open grave on the next property over. The book won’t tell us until later that that property is an in-progress golf course, hence our title. The medical examiner places the death seven to ten hours before he examined the body at 10AM, placing the death between 12 and 3, and Bex explains that Mrs. Renauld’s words place it at at just after 2. Lucien Bex posted:'Madame Renauld was hastily freed from the cords that bound her by the horrified servants. She was in a terrible condition of weakness, almost unconscious from the pain of her bonds. It appears that two masked men entered the bed-room, gagged and bound her, while forcibly abducting her husband. This we know at second hand from the servants. On hearing the tragic news she fell at once into an alarming state of agitation. On arrival, Dr Durand immediately prescribed a sedative, and we have not yet been able to question her. But without doubt she will awake more calm, and be equal to bearing the strain of the interrogation.' Poirot makes sure to get a cast list for us. Hercule Poirot and Lucien Bex posted:'And the inmates of the home, monsieur?' They start their questioning with Françoise, who explains that she was employed by the house’s previous owner and stayed on when Renauld bought the place the previous spring (she refers to Renauld here as “the English tailor”, and I feel like I’m missing something). She swears that the door was closed and locked the previous night, because she did it. She also notes that Renauld had a visitor that evening, a lady she doesn’t want to name until Hautet browbeats it out of her. Françoise Arrichet and M. Hautet posted:'How should I know who it was?' she grumbled. 'I did not let her in last night.' Françoise Arrichet posted:'How should I know? But what will you? Monsieur, he was milord anglais - très riche - and Madame Daubreuil, she was poor, that one - and très chic, for all that she lives so quietly with her daughter. Not a doubt of it, she has had her history! She is no longer young, but ma foi! I who speak to you have seen the men's heads turn after her as she goes down the street. Besides lately, she has had more money to spend - all the town knows it. The little economies, they are at an end.' And Françoise shook her head with an air of unalterable certainty. Hastings jumps to defend the honor of jolly olde England against the base slander of these damned dirty frogs (and in doing so reminds the reader that he and Poirot are present in the room), but everybody ignores him. Françoise continues explaining that after Madame Daubreuil, Renauld went to bed, and she heard no more disturbances that night, explaining that the stairs creak loudly enough that everybody in the house knows when somebody goes up or down. She ends her testimony with one more comment about Daubreuil. Françoise Arrichet posted:'I will tell you one thing, monsieur. That Madame Daubreuil she is a bad one! Oh, yes, one woman knows about another. She is a bad one, remember that.' And, shaking her head sagely, Françoise left the room. A reader could be forgiven for assuming that Christie’s trying to set up another Arthur Inglethorp here, a character so disliked by everybody else that she’s the prime suspect. Léonie comes in next, and gives so useless a testimony that it takes up all of a paragraph, as opposed to Françoise’s four pages. quote:Léonie appeared dissolved in tears, and inclined to be hysterical. M. Hautet dealt with her adroitly. Her evidence was mainly concerned with the discovery of her mistress gagged and bound, of which she gave rather an exaggerated account. She, like Françoise, had heard nothing during the night. She’s followed by Denise, whose testimony is more interesting – because she immediately contradicts Françoise. M. Hautet and Denise Oulard posted:'It of course, possible,' said the magistrate smoothly. 'Now, my girl, was it you who admitted Madame Daubreuil to the house last night?' Is that supposed to be a French accent looks like spelled phonetically? If I didn’t know she was French, I would have assumed Scottish. After dismissing Denise, the magistrate questions Françoise again, who swears just as strongly as Denise that the woman was Madame Daubreuil, and claims Denise is just lying to make herself look more important, including hammering in her ability to speak English. Hautet takes the time to ask about the chauffeur here, learning that Renauld had just decided the previous day that he wouldn’t need the car for a while and told the man (finally named here as Masters) to take a holiday. This is where Poirot finally asks a question. Hercule Poirot, Lucien Bex, Françoise Arrichet, and Arthur Hastings posted:'Pardon, Monsieur Bex, but without doubt Monsieur Renauld could drive the car himself?' Yes Poirot, clearly that is the mystery, not who kidnapped and stabbed a man.
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Oct 7, 2022 10:24
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quote:Hautet, the examining magistrate (from context, I’m assuming a form of forensic specialist, but ‘magistrate’ makes it sound like he works in some judicial capacity) This is one of the defining differences between the English adversarial/common law tradition, and the European civil law tradition. The French system of the time is strongly inquisitorial, and many prosecutions are led by a juge d'instruction (a better translation is perhaps "investigating judge"). Crucially, he has the power to personally direct the investigations of the police and the prosecutor. He is not entirely unlike a combination of the modern English senior investigating officer (the detective in overall charge of an investigation) and an American grand jury, rolled into one person. It will fundamentally be his job to decide whether a crime has been committed, and whether there is enough evidence to commit a suspect for trial. A different panel of judges will then hear the trial. The powers of the investigating judge have always been strongest in France; it has been said that the office was the most powerful one in the country during the 19th century. Many European countries have abolished the investigating judge; those like France who retain them now restrict their use to the most serious cases. In France these reforms did not begin until the mid-1980s. Truthkeeper posted:Is that supposed to be a French accent looks like spelled phonetically? Good moaning... Trin Tragula fucked around with this message at 21:06 on Oct 7, 2022 |
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Oct 7, 2022 20:23
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Chapter 4 – The Letter Signed ‘Bella’ Poirot’s question gets put aside for now (but never forgotten, Poirot does not forget) in favor of the mystery of the woman who visited Renauld last night. Clearly one of the maids must be mistaken, and Besx determines immediately that it must be Françoise. Denise was the one who let the mystery woman in, so she was obviously in the best position to recognize her. This reminds him and Hautet that they forgot to share evidence with Poirot: they have a letter (in English, which sort of corroborates Denise’s claim) that indicates Renauld was cheating on his wife! Bella posted:My Dear, Poirot isn’t ready to make any assumptions, but he knows the police have. Bex sums up their ideas: Renauld was tied up with Bella, moved to France, got tied up with Madame Daubreuil, and threw Bella aside. Their original idea was that she was the one who killed him out of jealousy, open and shut case aside from the minor issue of identifying her. Because only a woman would ever stab a man in the back, after all. Poirot counters that however, pointing out that somebody dug the grave he was found in, which only a man could possibly do. Early 20th century casual sexism, folks! And of course, Hautet points out, the two masked men Mrs. Renauld mentioned, and the letter Poirot received, all point in a very different direction than their initial assumption. Just to be clear, they ask, but Poirot scoffs at the idea that Paul Renauld, gentleman adventurer, would ever think to request “protection against a woman”. Hautet and Bex agree, and assume that now they must look to Renauld’s history in Santiago, Chile. Lucien Bex posted:'I shall cable without delay to the police in that city, requesting full details of the murdered man's life out there, his love affairs, his business transactions, his friendships, and any enmities he may have incurred. It will be strange if, after that, we do not hold a clue to his mysterious murder.' Because naturally the local police would have all that information readily available. 1920s PRISM? Other than the one letter (found in the pocket of the coat Renauld was wearing when he died), the police found no other letters from Bella, or anything else of interest, except for his will, leaving a thousand pounds to his secretary and everything else to his wife. Simple, to the point, perfectly legal and ordinary, save for being fairly new, only written two weeks prior. Probably not the same kind of shenanigans as in the last book, but certainly an interesting detail. The only thing Poirot is willing to note from this is that it indicates Renauld probably did actually like his wife, no matter who he was schtupping on the side. Hautet is the one to point out that this will kind of screws over the son, Jack, who’s now dependent on his mother for the rest of his life, or else, horror of horrors, he might have to get a job! And if his mother remarries, he might never see that money at all! We saw this situation in the last book too, but the late Mr. Cavendish’s will had contained a provision that Emily had to leave his estate to his sons when she died, Jack doesn’t have any such protection. Poirot suggests that maybe Renauld was just a self-obsessed rear end in a top hat who assumed his wife would never remarry, and that his son couldn’t be trusted with the money, claiming that “the sons of rich men are proverbially wild”. From there, they intend to move on to see the body and the crime scene, intact, fully photographed, and preserved by the police, sans body. Poirot, however, gets distracted by Renauld’s study, so they pause there. Poirot takes in the quality of the housekeeping (no dust on the furniture!), but immediately notices a crooked rug Hercule Poirot, Arthur Hastings, and Lucien Bex posted:Suddenly he uttered an exclamation and rose. In his hand he held a small fragment of pink paper. quote:But M. Bex was already pulling impatiently at the bell. Françoise answered it. Yes, there had been a lot of pieces of paper on the floor. What had she done with them? Put them in the kitchen stove of course! What else? With a gesture of despair, Bex dismissed her. Then, his face lightening, he ran to the desk. In a minute he was hunting through the dead man's cheque book. Then he repeated his former gesture. The last counterfoil was blank. Poirot also found one other detail. He knows that Renauld met with the mysterious woman the previous night in that very study, because he found a long black hair on the back of a chair! This is… not the amazing detail Christie thinks it is, because they already knew that! Denise told them that Renauld and his unknown female visitor were in the study. It’s not like Christie to make basic errors like this. Moving on, Bex takes them to a shed behind the house where the dead man’s body is waiting. quote:He opened the door and we passed. The murdered man lay on the ground, with a sheet over him. M. Bex dexterously whipped off the covering. Renauld was a man of medium height, slender, and lithe figure. He looked about fifty years of age, and his dark hair was plentifully streaked with grey. He was clean shaven, with a long thin nose, and eyes set rather close together, and his skin was deeply bronzed, as that of a man who had spent most of his life beneath tropical skies. His lips were drawn back from his teeth and an expression of absolute amazement and terror was stamped on the livid features. I’m fairly certain that your face doesn’t freeze up when you die, but I can’t be 100% on that. Bex also provides the murder weapon, which they pulled out of his back when they moved him. quote:'It was left in the wound.' The commissary reached down a large glass jar. In it was a small object that looked to me more like a paper-knife than anything else. It had a black handle and a narrow shining blade. The whole thing was not more than ten inches long. Poirot tested the discoloured point gingerly with his finger-tip. Of course, everybody and their dog knows all about fingerprints by this time and knows to wear gloves when they go about stabbing dudes, so the police were thoroughly unsurprised that they didn’t find any on the knife. Hercule Poirot posted:'Of course he did,' said Poirot contemptuously. 'Even in Santiago they know enough for that. The veriest amateur of an English knows it - thanks to the publicity the Bertillon system has been given in the Press. All the same, it interests me very much that there were no fingerprints. It is so amazingly simple to leave the fingerprints of someone else! And then the police are happy.' He shook his head. 'I very much fear our criminal is not a man of method - either that or he was pressed for time. But we shall see.' Alphonse Bertillon was a French police officer in the late 19th century who first thought “Boy, wouldn’t it be great if we had some way of recording details about crooks?” The Bertillon System was a grouping of physical details (head length and width, middle finger length, left foot length, and length from elbow to middle finger), combined with mug shots. This was imperfect at best, and was later supplanted by the 16-point fingerprinting system, also developed by Bertillon, which is more likely to be what Poirot is referring to here. Poirot notes that Renauld died wearing only his underwear and overcoat, but doesn’t have time to discover more than that, since Françoise interrupts them with a message that Mrs. Renauld has awoken from her sedation and is ready to see them. Poirot has one last comment as he stares at the body. Not a dramatic pledge to see justice done, as Hastings expects. Hercule Poirot posted:Poirot fingered a moment looking back towards the body. I thought for a moment that he was going to apostrophize it, to declare aloud his determination never to rest till he had discovered the murderer. But when he spoke, it was tamely and awkwardly, and his comment was ludicrously inappropriate to the solemnity of the moment. Truly, Hercule Poirot is the greatest detective of these times.
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Oct 10, 2022 06:39
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Chapter 5 – Mrs. Renauld’s Story As Poirot and company make their way upstairs, Poirot confirms what the servants mentioned earlier; every single stair creaks loudly enough to be heard by anybody upstairs. They find Mrs. Renauld lying in bed, attended on by the medical examiner, but ready and willing to giver her testimony to the police. All told, she’s remarkably calm for a woman who was woken up in the middle of the night, tied up and gagged, had her husband kidnapped, and recently learned that he was killed afterward. They apparently had to sedate her earlier when they first told her. Mrs. Renauld explains that her husband went to bed about an hour after her, and they slept until a pair of men woke them up. Conveniently, she’s able to describe both men fairly well; despite claiming both wore masks and had hats pulled down over their eyes, she knows that one was tall and had a long black beard and the other was short with a short red beard, though Hautet assumes the beards were probably fake. After tying up and gagging his wife, they interrogated Renauld. Eloise Renauld posted:'They were speaking in too low a tone for me to hear what they said. But I recognized the language, a bastard Spanish such as is spoken in some parts of South America. They seemed to be demanding something from my husband, and presently they grew angry and their voices rose a little. I think the tall man was speaking. "You know what we want?" he said. "The secret! Where is it?" I do not know what my husband answered, but the other replied fiercely: "You lie! We know you have it. Where are your keys?" After tearing through his belonging and his safe, the thugs forced him to get dressed and marched him out at knifepoint, giving him just a moment to promise his wife that everything would be okay and he’d be back by morning. Then she passed out until Léonie came into wake her. When asked about her husband’s past, Mrs. Renauld claims to know nothing about his life in South America, or about the secret, whatever it is, but claims that he had been unusually afraid for the past ten days or so, but that he refused to confide in her about what was wrong. And she had no idea he’d contacted Poirot before his death. Conveniently, she can exactly pinpoint the time of the kidnapping, as she heard the clock on the mantle strike 2 while the invaders were there. And Bex, investigating the room, finds a watch that was knocked to the floor and stepped on by one of them, stopped and proving that the time of the kidnapping was… 7 o’clock! But Poirot, having the basic observational skills that ordinary police lack, notes that the watch, althgouh the glass is broken, is still running. Although it is two hours fast, reading 7 when it’s just after 5. Back to establishing events, Mrs. Renauld has no idea why the door would be open at night, but puts forth the same idea as Françoise, that he must have gone for a walk before going to bed, and that he was forgetful enough to unlock the door if he did. Bex and Hautet determine that, whatever the hell ‘the secret’ is, it must be located far enough away if the kidnappers insisted on Renauld getting dressed before taking them to it, but close enough that Renauld could promise to be back by morning. Poirot brings up the idea that they could have taken a train somewhere, but Bex thinks it’s more likely they had a car. Hautet brings up that, if so, a car driven by two foreigners will have been noticed and therefore easy to track. Continuing the questioning, Mrs. Renauld is unfamiliar with the names ‘Bella’ or ‘Duveen’, and was unaware of her husband’s visitor the night before. When they show her the murder weapon, she recognizes it as her very own knife! Eloise Renauld posted:'Oh, yes. It was a present from my son. He was in the Air Force during the War. He gave his age as older than it was.' There was a touch of the proud mother in her voice. 'This was made from a streamline aeroplane wire, and was given to me by my son as a souvenir of the War.' Was it… common to turn airplane parts into knives as war mementos? Were there not enough actual German weapons to keep? Or was that more of a thing in WW2? Apparently young Jack Renauld is en route to Buenos Aires (Christie spells it Ayres here), having been sent there from Paris by his father just the previous day, with the instruction make his way overland from there to Santiago. Bex and Hautet are the ones to verbally notice that Santiago has come up yet again, but that doesn’t mean Poirot missed it. But he’s more curious in examining the woman’s wrists, with her permission. quote:Though slightly surprised at the request, Mrs Renauld held them out to him. Round each of them was a cruel red mark where the cords had bitten into the flesh. As he examined them, I fancied that a momentary flicker of excitement I had seen in his eyes disappeared. Presumably he was expecting the old “she wasn’t really tied up, it was all faked!” routine. You should know it’s never that easy, Poirot. Hautet intends to get in touch with Jack and get whatever information he can provide about his father’s business in Santiago and why he was sent there. And it sure would be nice if he was present, because without him, only Mrs. Renauld can identify the body for them. He’s willing to give her a day to gather herself, but she’d rather get it over with. Her soul of ice and spine of steel last exactly as long as it takes to get down to the shed and see the body. Eloise Renauld and Hercule Poirot posted:'Paul!' she cried. 'Husband! Oh, God!' And pitching forward she fell unconscious to the ground. You can’t be right all the time Poirot, especially not this early in the book.
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Oct 13, 2022 07:30
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Chapter 6 – The Scene of the Crime As Hautet and the doctor carry Mrs. Renauld back inside, just Poirot, Hastings, and Bex are left to continue the trip to the crime scene we were promised at the beginning of the last chapter, going back through the house to exit out the front door. As they do, Poirot points out how absurd it is that two men could have gone up the loud, creaky stairs, kidnapped Renauld, and then three men came down those loud, creaky stairs, and nobody heard them at all. And sure, the front door was unlocked, but they had no way of knowing that, why did they bother trying it? There’s even an easy to climb tree parked right next to Mrs. Renauld’s bedroom window, it would have been perfect! But obviously they didn’t get in that way, because there’s fresh mould (I’m assuming something like topsoil or potting mix) in the flower bed around the tree that would show footprints if anybody had gone through it. And Poirot notes that there are footprints!... in a completely different flower bed nowhere near the tree. I know I was ragging on Hastings last book for thinking Poirot was going senile, but there are times… At any rate, Poirot insists that this is clearly important. "'I do not agree with you. I have a little idea that these footprints are the most important things we have seen yet." Bex leads Poirot and Hastings across the property, rather than out to the street, past a different toolshed than the one the body was stored in, and through the shrubs marking the property boundary, where the neighboring property is revealed to them. Hastings is shocked to realize that the Villa’s land backs up to an under-construction golf course. And when they approach the open grave that Renauld’s body was found in, they’re all shocked to realize that there’s another inside! Arthur Hastings, Lucian Bex, and M. Giraud posted:I gave a gasp. A little to my left, where for the moment I had overlooked it, was a long narrow pit and by it, face downwards, was the body of a man! For a moment, my heart gave a terrible leap, and I had a wild fancy that the tragedy had been duplicated. But the commissary dispelled my illusion by moving forward with a sharp exclamation of annoyance: The man taking five next to the grave turns out to be M. Giraud, the detective from the Sûreté that the local police were awaiting to take over the case. Arthur Hastings, M. Giraud, and Hercule Poirot posted:As he spoke, I was scanning the newcomer with the keenest curiosity. The famous detective from the Paris Sûreté was familiar to me by name and I was extremely interested to see him in the flesh. He was very tall, perhaps about thirty years of age, with auburn hair and moustache, and a military carriage. There was a trace of arrogance in his manner which showed that he was fully alive to his own importance. I can’t help but note that the only details the TV series kept from this description are his arrogance and mustache. Giraud immediately blows off the idea of proper procedure, he doesn’t care about meeting with the examining magistrate who’s been waiting for him, the light is running out and he wants to finish examining the crime scene before it does! He immediately establishes his difference from Poirot in that he is obsessed with physical evidence, complaining about the crime scene being contaminated by the workers who found the body and pointing out what evidence he’s already discovered. M. Giraud and Hercule Poirot posted:‘I can see the tracks where the three of them came through the hedge - but they were cunning. You can just recognize the centre foot-marks as those of Monsieur Renauld, but those on either side have been carefully obliterated. Not that there would really be much to see anyway on this hard ground, but they weren't taking any chances.' Not to be outdone, Poirot points out a piece of evidence as well: a short piece of lead pipe nearby!... nobody cares because they can’t see how it’s possibly related. Poirot is confused about the white line making an irregular shape around the murder scene and wonders if the police did it, but Bex explains to him that it’s part of the construction, denoting the future location of a bunker (Christie spells it ‘bunkair’, not sure if Britishism or just French). They also establish that Renauld was an avid golfer who even helped design the course, in exchange for paying for a substantial portion of it. Poirot notes that it was a poor choice of location to bury the body. Hercule Poirot and M. Giraud posted:'It was not a very good choice they made - for a spot to bury the body? When the men began to dig up the ground, all would have been discovered.' Poor Poirot. He’s doing so poorly, and now Hastings immediately has a detective-crush on this new arrogant buffoon. He’s just like the arrogant buffoon he already had a detective-crush on, but thirty years younger and thinks just like Hastings does!
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Oct 15, 2022 07:22
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Chapter 7 – The Mysterious Madame Daubreuil With the body positively identified, Bex goes off to tell Hautet that Giraud has arrived, while the detective himself goes back to his search for clues, getting down on all fours to look for any tiny traces. Poirot thinks he looks ridiculous, calling him “the human foxhound!”, but Hastings loves the idea of a detective who’s just as obsessed with evidence as him, and blasts Poirot for not doing anything, discounting the lead pipe Poirot pointed out as obviously unimportant. Hercule Poirot and Arthur Hastings posted:'Mon ami, a clue of two feet long is every bit as valuable as one measuring two millimeters! But it is the romantic idea that all important clues must be infinitesimal. As to the piece of lead-piping having nothing to do with the crime, you say that because Giraud told you so. No -' as I was about to interpose a question - 'we will say no more. Leave Giraud to his search, and me to my ideas. The case seems straightforward enough - and yet - and yet, mon ami, I am not satisfied! And do you know why? Because of the wrist-watch that is two hours fast. And then there are several curious little points that do not seem to fit in. For instance, if the object of the murderers was revenge, why did they not stab Renauld in his sleep and have done with it?' Arthur Hastings and Hercule Poirot posted:'I did not realize -' Bex lays out the basic details of the woman they’re going to meet, but Hastings has other concerns. Arthur Hastings and Lucien Bex posted:During this conversation we were walking down the lane towards the fork in the road where our car had halted earlier in the afternoon, and in another moment I realized that the Villa Marguerite, the home of the mysterious Madame Daubreuil, was the small house from which the beautiful girl had emerged. The younger Daubreuil is caught off guard, seemingly frozen in fear, when she opens the door to find a cop, a magistrate, and a pair of Englishmen, but she regains her senses and lets them in, soon taking them to meet with her mother. Madame Daubreuil denies everything, starting with denying their right to ask her if she was frequently visiting Renauld at his home. She denies knowing anything about his life in Santiago or his enemies. She starts to make a presumably catty comment about Mrs. Renauld. Mme. Daubreuil and M. Hautet posted:'I fear not. I really do not see why you should come to me. Cannot his wife tell you what you want to know?' Her voice held a slender inflection of irony. Marthe Daubreuil and Hercule Poirot posted:A figure was running hatless down the road after us. It was Marthe Daubreuil. Marthe Daubreuil and Hercule Poirot posted:'Two?' Hercule Poirot and Arthur Hastings posted:'But yes - it is as I tell you. It was a long time ago, when I was still with the Police in Belgium. I have never actually seen the woman before, but I have seen her picture - and in connection with some case. I rather fancy -"
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Oct 17, 2022 07:08
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Chapter 8 – An Unexpected Meeting The next morning, Poirot and Hastings are back at the villa, where they learn that Mrs. Renauld has completely broken since identifying her husband’s body, pale and unwilling to eat anything. Or so Léonie tells them, who thinks that she’s being awfully charitable toward the husband who was so obviously cheating on her. Poirot uses the opportunity to glean more information about his not-quite client’s situation. Hercule Poirot and Léonie Oulard posted:‘What you say is very just, but what will you? The heart of a woman who loves will forgive many blows. Still undoubtedly there must have been many scenes of recrimination between them in the last few months?' They learn that Bex and Hautet are out examining Renauld’s car, thinking that the kidnappers might have used it, and Hastings expects that Poirot will go out to join them. Instead, he intends to wait inside, where it’s nice and cool. Hastings is displeased, and asks if it’s okay to go off without him. Poirot thinks he wants to investigate a bit on his own, but no, Hastings wants to go watch Giraud work and hope sempai will notice him. Poirot calls Giraud “the human foxhound” again, but waves Hastings off to go do as he will. However, Hastings does start by going off to the murder scene again, thinking that maybe he will do a bit of investigation. But as he fights his way through the bushes near the property line, he runs into somebody. Not Giraud-sempai, but a woman! Not just a woman, but Cinderella! They socially dance around each other a bit. She and her sister are in town “resting” (Christie’s quotation marks, not mine, I’m not sure if this is supposed to be a euphemism that I’m missing), and she’s curious as to why the Englishman she met on the train who was going home from France two days ago is suddenly back, and here. Cinderella is immediately impressed when he explains why. Arthur Hastings and Cinderella posted:‘And perhaps you've heard about this crime - at the Villa Geneviève?' He hems and haws and tries to be very proper about how ghastly it all is, but he was never going to not give in. Cinderella wants all the grisly details, murder scene and weapon and what the body was like and interesting evidence like fingerprints. Hastings is too busy being freaked out at how excited she is about the murder and how unladylike that is to comprehend how stupidly suspicious it is. Cinderella and Arthur Hastings posted:I turned away, sickened. What were women coming to nowadays? The girl's ghoulish excitement nauseated me. In his heart of hearts, he wants to be a better version of Poirot-sempai, we’ve known that since the beginning of the last book. I’m surprised he doesn’t have his own mustache, but huge and curly, like Branagh’s. I finally got around to watching the two Branagh movies while doing this, they weren’t spectacular, but they were solidly enjoyable. Still like Finney better though, and Suchet better than him. Suppose I’ll have to hunt down the ‘78 version of Death on the Nile so I can see how Ustinov compares, then I can do an effortpost about the four most well known Poirot actors (I don’t think anybody will miss Austin Trevor or Tony Randall, or any of the TV Poirots other than Suchet). Credit where it’s due, even without Poirot, Hastings has no trouble getting himself and his new lady friend past the policeman guarding the murder scene. He explains the details of how the body was found, Cinderella keeps him talking through a combination of attention and asking questions. Then he leads the way toward the villa, hoping to avoid running into anybody, because that might lead to uncomfortable questions, and he might be revealed to not be as powerfully connected as Cinderalla believes him to be. He manages to obtain the key to the shed from Françoise, who explains that Hautet had ordered that everything was to be made available to him (I think Hautet probably meant Poirot, rather than Hastings, and Françoise is just seeing Hastings as an extension of his friend). Despite his best efforts to dissuade her, Cinderella really wants to say the body, so he takes her into the shed, showing her the dead dude and the murder weapon, stored in a jar nearby. Unlike her previous excitement, she’s gone suddenly quiet and uptight, and nearly faints when he points out the dagger, leading to Hastings rushing back to the house to get her a glass of water, spiked with a dash of brandy from his pocket flask, because of course he carries a pocket flask of brandy. Cinderella and Arthur Hastings posted:
When they reach the outskirts, she tries to say goodbye again, but he twists it into au revoir (until we meet again), because after all, if she’s staying in town, they probably will meet again. At his prompting, she tells him the hotel she’s staying at, and even invites him to visit her the next day. It doesn’t occur to him until he’s back at the villa, locking up the shed, that she still hasn’t told him her name.
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Oct 21, 2022 22:55
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Thanks for posting these, I haven't read Christie in a long time.
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Nov 7, 2022 21:00
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Analytic Engine fucked around with this message at 22:41 on Nov 14, 2022 |
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Nov 14, 2022 22:36
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Chapter 9 – M. Giraud Finds Some Clues Having been thoroughly played by a teenage girl, Hastings sneaks back into both the ongoing plot and the house, slipping into the salon where Hautet is interrogating the Auguste the gardener. The gloves and shovel used by the murderers came from his shed. Yes, of course it was locked, yes, of course the key was in the lock, it’s a drat garden shed, there’s nothing worth stealing. At the end of the interview, Hastings tries to help; remembering Poirot’s insistence on the importance of the footprints in the flowerbeds, he asks the gardener where he keeps his boots when he’s not wearing them (next to his bed) and who cleans them (nobody, he’s a working man with nobody he needs to impress with shiny boots). After Auguste leaves, Hautet starts complaining about how rude Giraud is, only to be interrupted by the detective himself. ”M. Hautet and M. Giraud” posted:'Well, well,' said the magistrate, 'we do not advance very much. Undoubtedly we are held up until we get the return cable from Santiago. Has anyone seen Giraud? In verity that one lacks politeness! I have a very good mind to send for him and -' Hautet tries to get his own back by claiming that Giraud, such a masterful detective, must already have the identities and location of the murderers. He obviously doesn’t, but he’s found evidence! A cigarette butt and an unlit match, surely this will a critically important detail that will solve the entire case! Giraud identifies both as South American make, supporting the theory that the murderers came from Chile. He purports that one of them was smoking a cigarette, tossed the butt, and lit another, dropping one of his matches in the process. Poirot asks where the other match that the man did use to light his cigarette is, but Giraud didn’t find a used match. But he refuses to be drawn away from his theory, although he refuses to explain what his theory is. Silly Giraud thinks that just because his name is in the chapter title means that he can get away with stealing Poirot’s schtick. Giraud acknowledges that it’s remarkably convenient that the murderers’ plan required a murder weapon, gloves, and a shovel, and that having not brought any of those things, they were able to easily find them all on-site, but he refuses the established fact that the door was left unlocked, swearing that there was an accomplice, either somebody inside the house who opened it for them, or outside the house who had a key. Poirot wonders out loud why they left the door open after they left; Giraud identifies it as a simple mistake, but Poirot himself is certain that it was intentional, “the result of either design or necessity, and any theory that does not admit that fact is bound to prove vain”. Poirot also takes this chance to bring up with Giraud the similarity of this case to an earlier half-forgotten one that he mentioned to Hastings earlier, hoping Giraud’s memory will prove better than his own, but to no success. ”Hercule Poirot and M. Giraud” posted:Giraud snorted incredulously. Poirot also brings up the points he’s found interesting that Giraud is ignoring. Madame Renauld’s watch, smashed but still functioning, two hours fast. The footprints in the flower bed, which Giraud claims there aren’t any where he’s standing, and Poirot confirms as if this is a critically important detail that will solve the entire case! However, the great detective dick measuring contest is put on hold when Renauld’s secretary arrives, having been called in from England for questioning.
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Nov 21, 2022 23:40
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I've been a poor host to you readers, anybody reading along with me has probably gone and finished the book without me. However, please take this double length two chapter special update to make up for it. Chapter 10 – Gabriel Stonor Christie does an annoying thing here. Having nothing interesting to say in describing Stonor, she has Hastings bring up details about him he’ll learn at some later point in his description. It’s a lazy pile of telling instead of showing and adds nothing to the story. Knowing that the dead man’s secretary is a seasoned traveler on 6 out of 7 continents would be fascinating for an actual character developed over time, not a barely extant piece of set dressing. Thankfully, it’s not something she makes a habit of. Stonor was unaware that Renauld had asked Poirot for help, but not surprised, given that his late employer had been “rattled” for some time prior to his death. He’s able add little new information, such as Renauld being Canadian by birth, and to confirm some of the facts, such as Renauld’s history in Santiago, but is unfamiliar with the secret that the man was apparently killed over, nor is he able to identify the names that came up in the investigation, “Duveen” and “Bella”; he assumes that they’re the name of a single person, “Bella Duveen”, which he claims sounds familiar, but he can’t place it. And he immediately laughs off the going theory of Renauld cheating on his wife as impossible, even when told about the letter signed by Bella, the late night visits by Madame Daubreuil, and the money he was paying her, which he was aware of, as he was the one who transferred the money at Renauld’s request. Instead, his theory is that Daubreuil was blackmailing Renauld, an idea that excites Bex, who apparently never even thought of it. The new will does surprise him though. ”M. Hautet and Gabriel Stonor” posted:'Did Monsieur Renauld take you into his confidence at all as to the dispositions of his will?' Poirot, speaking up for the first time, interjects to question Stonor about Renauld’s chauffeur, confirming that he had never been to South America, had a good history with easily checked references, and was basically above suspicion, leaving him looking down. The party intend to move upstairs to talk to Eloise, but upon being told they have more questions, she instead insists on coming down to meet them. Having learned from Stonor that Renauld was from Canada, Hautet asks if she can shed any additional light on his early life and upbringing, but no dice. She describes her late husband as “reticent”, claiming that she only knew he was from the northwest (Stonor described him as French-Canadian, which I usually associate with Quebec, anybody know if there was a larger French identity in western Canada at this time period?) and had an unhappy childhood he didn’t like to talk about. Hautet tries to delicately address the idea that Renauld was cheating on her, only for Stonor to break in, still laughing at the idea. ”Gabriel Stonor, Lucien Bex, and Eloise Renauld posted:'They've got an extraordinary idea into their head, Mrs Renauld. They actually fancy that Mr Renauld was carrying on an intrigue with a Madame Daubreuil who it seems, lives next door.' Poor guy wasn’t expecting to hear that. Chapter 11 – Jack Renauld A new player enters the scene, which would be a lot more mysterious if Christie hadn’t literally told us who he was already with that chapter title. quote:What the next development of the conversation would have been I cannot say, for at that moment the door was thrown open violently and a tall young man strode into the room. Indeed, the new arrival is Jack Renauld, the murdered man’s son who was meant to be en route to South America. His ship was delayed by engine trouble, and he found out about his father’s death in the paper before he could board the next day. Renauld’s an eccentric rich guy, I’m not going to call it impossible for his death to make the paper, at least it’s not the front page, which I would scoff at. His mother’s decidedly shocked at seeing him. ”Eloise Renauld” posted:'So you did not sail?' And then, with a gesture of infinite weariness, she murmured as though to herself: 'After all, it does not matter - now.' That strong resemblance to his father that Hastings noted is probably loving with her, she has been bedridden from the shock of his death up to this point. Jack is unfortunately not able to tell the investigators much more about his mysterious trip to Santaigo. He got a telegram from his dad. quote:Proceed immediately Cherbourg embark Anzora sailing tonight Buenos Ayres. Ultimate destination Santiago. Further instructions will await you Buenos Ayres. Do not fail. Matter is of utmost importance. Renauld. And that was it, no word on the matter previously, and obviously none after. While he often traveled on business for his father, this was the first time he’d ever sent his son to South America on business, he previously hadn’t been there since childhood. Like everybody else, Jack knows nothing about the secret, or about his father having dastardly South American banditos after him, nor to any change in his disposition prior to his murder. Giraud, who wasn’t present when the other investigators learned about Jack’s argument with his father, still learned about it somewhere, and in much greater detail, and puts the screws to the kid. ”M. Giraud and Jack Renauld” posted:'Quite so, quite so. But, if anyone were to assert that you had a violent quarrel with your father on the eve of your departure for Paris, that person, without doubt would be lying?' However, Jack refuses to specify what he and his father were arguing about, even when Hautet puffs up and starts bellowing about “trifling with the law!” However, it’s unneeded, because Giraud is not the only one who knows everything. Poirot pipes up, having pieced together that they argued about Marthe Daubreuil. Jack confirms that he wanted to marry Marthe, his father flew into a rage when he said so, jack flew into a rage at the insult to his lady love, and they shouted it out. Eloise confirms that she suspected her son’s intent, and while not as emotional about it, still finds the idea distasteful, given her mother’s “doubtful antecedants”. At Hautet’s request, Jack finally elaborates on the argument. ”M. Hautet and Jack Renauld” posted:'When you informed your father of your intentions towards Mademoiselle Daubreuil,' he resumed, 'he was surprised?' You know, there’s this school of thought that, once you reach adulthood, you should get a loving job and move out of your parents’ house so they don’t have this kind of power over you. Poirot cuts him off, homing in on the fact that Jack must have been aware of the terms of his father’s earlier will and prompts Jack to confirm such, and then the story continues. ”Jack Renauld” posted:'After that we shouted at each other in sheer rage, until I suddenly realized that I was in danger of missing my train to Paris. I had to run for the station, still in a white heat of fury. However, once well away, I calmed down. I wrote to Marthe telling her what had happened, and her reply soothed me still further. She pointed out to me that we had only to be steadfast, and any opposition was bound to give way at last. Our affection for each other must be tried and proved and when my parents realized that it was no light infatuation on my part they would doubtless relent towards us. Of course, to her, I had not dwelt on my father's principal objection to the match. I soon saw that I should do my cause no good by violence.' They move from there to asking him about the names. ”M. Hautet and Jack Renauld posted:'To pass to another matter, are you acquainted with the name of Duveen, Monsieur Renauld?' When told that the murder weapon was the souvenir knife he had given his mother, Jack is horrified and asks if he can see it. Giraud suggests they make him to out to the shed where the knife and body are being kept, but Hautet is feeling contrary and sends Bex to get it. They break for a moment to wait for his return, Hautet looking through the Bella letter again, Poirot adjusting candlesticks that aren’t perfectly straight. Then Bex runs back in. Lucien Bex, M. Hautet, and Arthur Hastings posted:'Monsieur le juge! Monsieur le juge!' Having accidentally spilled some beans, Hastings does the honorable thing and admits to his stupidity in sneaking a cute girl past police security to see the body and evidence. Hautet tries to be severe, but he understands that Hastings is young and stupid, and the girl was probably very pretty, it can’t be helped. Bex, less romantic than the magistrate, takes questioning Hastings, and he admits that, on top of the previous stupid action, he also forgot to lock the shed until he got back from escorting Cinderella to town, leaving a twenty minute gap where anybody could have gotten into the shed. Hautet tries to build up a head of steam to start raking Hastings over the coals, only to be interrupted by Giraud. ”M. Hautet and M. Giraud” posted:'It is deplorable,' said M. Hautet, his sternness of manner returning. 'Without precedent.' Poirot, for once, is the one to point out the obvious, that the killer knew he hadn’t left fingerprints, because he wore gloves, but Giraud ignores that, claiming that obviously the dagger was stolen by an accomplice who didn’t realize that. They break for lunch, everybody but Poirot forgetting all about Hastings’ minor indiscretion, but Poirot wants a full retelling. But over lunch, which they head off to just as soon as Poirot takes a moment to measure a coat hanging near the front door that Hastings notices wasn’t there earlier, and assumes must belong to Stonor or Jack Renauld. Truthkeeper fucked around with this message at 12:37 on Dec 28, 2022 |
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Dec 7, 2022 12:01
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My favorite way of watching the Suchet Poirots was to headcanon that it was actually Hastings being a serial killer, and Poirot gaslighting people to cover for Hastings.
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Dec 10, 2022 07:46
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Kemper Boyd posted:My favorite way of watching the Suchet Poirots was to headcanon that it was actually Hastings being a serial killer, and Poirot gaslighting people to cover for Hastings. I've seen it theorized that Poirot himself committed all the murders he solved, but Hastings is a new one.
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Dec 11, 2022 05:39
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I'm mainlining the thread, and loving it. A couple mangled quote tags from the first book: Chapter 4: Truthkeeper posted:[quote-John Cavendish and Hercule Poirot] Last chapter: Truthkeeper posted:
More recently in the current text, Truthkeeper posted:Poirot fingered a moment Discendo Vox fucked around with this message at 04:22 on Dec 12, 2022 |
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Dec 11, 2022 23:29
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Poirot would never conceal a crime without order or method, such as Hastings would commit.
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Dec 12, 2022 00:01
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Discendo Vox posted:I'm mainlining the thread, and loving it. A couple mangled quote tags from the first book: All fixed now, thanks for the heads up. In my defense, that typo in the third one was the ebook, not me.
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Dec 12, 2022 09:01
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This just reminds me how much I want a Poirot/Columbo crossover. It wouldn't work in the slightest, but I still want it. It's very interesting how clearly, in these early texts, you can see Christie working backward from her solution, and in the initial story, how much the design is reflective of the conditions of the bet.
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Dec 13, 2022 01:24
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https://twitter.com/CethanLeahy/status/1603336852949245953?s=20&t=GQhRjLjBnA8SEvBbvnNtFQ
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Dec 21, 2022 13:38
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"...and I call it The Case Of Why The Heck Are Not All Eggs The Same Size And Shape."
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Dec 21, 2022 18:37
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I like both… at least if we’re talking about Poirot the TV series. I find Christie’s writing to be poor. David Suchet kills it as Poirot, however there are quite a few excellent actors who have portrayed Holmes.
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Dec 22, 2022 13:00
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Chapter 12 – Poirot Elucidates Certain Points Christie, did you get a word-a-day calendar while writing this book? Hastings opens this chapter reacting to things from last chapter, asking Poirot why he stopped to measure that overcoat (“Parbleu! to see how long it was”), and reflecting on Eloise’s odd statement when Jack arrived and told them he never made his boat (“So you did not sail?' she had said, and then had added: 'After all, it does not matter – now.) As usual, Hastings has no idea what Poirot is up to, because he’s not allowed to know things unless Christie thinks the reader has them figured out, but he has at least cottoned onto the fact that Elioise Renauld is keeping something close to her chest regarding her son’s mysterious business trip, perhaps even knows more about the details of her husband’s death. And when he mentions his thoughts to Poirot, he doesn’t get shot down for once! Hercule Poirot and Arthur Hastings posted:
I suppose by this point in mystery writing the old chestnut of tying yourself up with loose rope without anybody noticing was a horrible cliché. After eliciting a promise from Hastings not to tell Giraud (who has thoroughly annoyed Poirot with his disrespect), Poirot finally goes into some detail about what’s so special about the watch. According to Eloise, her husband was kidnapped at precisely 2:00, based on a clock striking while the kidnappers were in the room. The medical examiner, having checked the body at 10:00, placed the time of death between 7 and 10 hours before examination (between midnght and 3:00). Eveybody took Eloise’s statement as to the time as gospel. The smashed watch was still running, and was noted as saying 7:00 when it was actually 5:00. The idea was suggested that it might be running fast, although it hadn’t… but Poirot puts forth the far more likely assertion that the watch was purposefully changed before being smashed so that it would show an earlier time of death than actually happened, and Eloise was lying. Somebody wanted everybody to think the crime had happened two hours earlier than it actually had. He then connects the dots from there to the last train leaving Merlinville shortly after midnight. If Renauld was believed to have been killed at 2, anybody on that train would have an airtight alibi. Having struck out the timing bullshit from the witness account, Poirot moves on to the rest of bullshit – the entire story. Poirot doubts that there were two men from Santiago, or that Santiago is relevant at all, just a convenient red herring to keep the police busy, along with the ‘secret’. And Giraud’s precious physical evidence, the match and cigarette butt? Hercule Poirot posted:'Planted! Deliberately planted there for Giraud or one of his tribe to find! Ah, he is smart, Giraud, he can do his tricks! So can a good retriever dog. He comes in so pleased with himself. For hours he has crawled on his stomach. "See what I have found," he says. And then again to me: "What do you see here?" Me, I answer with profound and deep truth, "Nothing." And Giraud, the great Giraud, he laughs, he thinks to himself "Oh, he is imbecile, this old one!" But we shall see...' While Poirot gloats about getting one over on Giraud, Hastings finally pieces together that Poirot is calling bullshit on the entire story thus far, leaving them with no knowledge of what actually occurred. Madame Renauld knows, but won’t tell. Poirot is still certain that this is somehow related to an earlier case, but still can’t recall the particulars. Oddly enough though, he outright discounts the possibility of Elioise actually being involved in her husband’s death, believing her grief when she identified the body entirely real (not because of her actions, which a reasonably good actress could fake, but because she actually fainted, and he took the oppurtunity to confirm that). Poirot also explains his interest in the flowerbed earlier. There were fresh flowers planted outside Renauld’s window. The gardener’s bootprints should have been in that flowerbed, but they weren’t… because whoever it was that was in Renauld’s room, Chilean or otherwise, left through the window, and raked the dirt afterward to hide their method of exit. Hastings finally realizes, again, that Poirot has been detectiving circles around him this whole time while he was too busy making googly eyes at Giraud. While he was being snide about the old man loosing his marbles, Poirot had accomplished… basically nothing actually. They know that the story they had was bullshit, so now they’re actually even further away from the answer than the previously believed. Arthur Hastings and Hercule Poirot posted:'In the meantime,' I said, considering, 'although we know a great deal more than we did we are no nearer to solving the mystery of who killed Mr Renauld.'
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Dec 26, 2022 13:09
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Chapter 13 – The Girl With the Anxious Eyes So there Poirot and Hastings are, enjoying a perfectly good lunch in comfortable silence, as friends are able to do without filling the meal with needless chatter. And then Poirot goes and opens his mouth to needle Hastings about his fuckup vis a vis sneaking Cinderella into the evidence shed. He claims that not knowing her actual name makes the whole thing very romantic, I’m not sure if that’s just him needling Hastings some more. Which Hastings believes (and calls Poirot an rear end for it) or if he actually thinks so, Poirot does have strange romantic notions at times, and he’s a foeign man from a bygone era. When Poirot asks if Hastings intends to meet Cinderella again, Hastings puts far too much emphasis into his denial. And then he falls for the old “What did you say was the hotel she was staying at again?” trick, which is not the oldest trick in the book, but is certainly in the book of old tricks, though it thankfully takes Hastings only a moment to realize he’d been played, but he then loses that point because Poirot drops the subject and goes back to his food, cutting his bread into perfect squares, so obviously the crazy senile old man was just being senile and crazy. Then Poirot casually mentions that he’s going to Paris and refuses to say why, beyond that he’s looking for the murderer, even though he’s certain the murderer isn’t in Paris. It’s one of those things that makes sense if you know what he’s talking about, and sounds like nonsense if you don’t, Christie is annoyingly good at that. He leaves Hastings in charge of keeping an eye on Giraud and getting in with Jack Renauld. Hastings brings up Poirot somehow magically knowing that Jack’s argument with his father was over Marthe Daubreuil, and Poirot admits that it was a guess, “It was money, or a woman, and, remembering Léonie's description of the lad's anger, I decided on the latter.” He also calls Marthe ‘the girl with the anxious eyes’ again, probably just to give us a chapter title. After being forbidden from going to the train station to see Poirot off, Hastings wanders off with no idea what he’s doing, his natural state in life. … You know, when I say things like that, it makes it sound like I don’t like Hastings. And it’s true that I hate him as a literary device, but he’s a perfectly decent character, and there are several books I feel would be better if he was in them (the TV series tendency to shove Hasting, Japp, and Lemon into as many episodes as they can get away with sometimes proves this out). Hastings wanders to the beach on the absurd thought that Cinderella might be there and he can see her in her bathing suit (it’s 1923 Hastings, you’re not going to see much), before convincing himself that not only is it perfectly okay for him to visit her at her hotel, but that he has a moral obligation to do so. He ends up learning two things, one unsurprising (she lied to him about where she was staying), the other also unsurprising (Poirot got there before him). Hastings builds up a good head of steam about not needing Poirot to meddle in his love life, but gets distracted thinking aout Cinderella and how she could have accidentally given him the wrong hotel, before he finally realizes that nope, she just lied to him! Having thoroughly worked himself into a bad mood, he sits down on a bench near Renauld’s house to sulk, only to accidentally eavesdrop on a conversation on the other side of the hedge. Jack and Marthe, having realized that Renauld’s death means there’s nothing keeping them apart. Marthe Daubreuil and Jack Renauld posted:A girl's voice was speaking, a voice that I recognized as that of the beautiful Marthe. In his attempt to gallantly stop eavesdropping, Hastings nearly trips over Giraud (who seems to be disguised as a bush for some reason), who is also eavesdropping, but less accidentally. Giraud drags Hastings away so he can complain about Hastings ruining his chance to overhear something incriminating (even though there was nothing stopping him from just staying and continuing to listen), before asking where Poirot is. Arthur Hastings and M. Giraud posted:'What were you doing there?' I asked. It’s obvious that Christie doesn’t want us to like Giraud, but I’m still not clear on if we’re supposed to think that he’s competent but Poirot is out of his league, or if he’s just an incompetent moron. I lean toward the former, but this is just stupid. Unable to follow Poirot’s instructions regarding either Jack (busy with his girl) or Giraud (being an rear end in a top hat), Hastings wanders back to the beach to enjoy a nice swim before going back to his hotel for the night. The next morning, he’s saved from having to do anymore wandering or actually having to figure out a course of action when a waiter, aware that he’s somehow connected to the murder investigation in some capacity, interrupts his breakfast to inform him that there’s been another murder! Hastings rushes back to the villa to confirm and get details from the chatty maids (interrupting their cries that the house is cursed and someody needs to bring some holy water and get to work before they’ll spend another night there). Arthur Hastings and Françoise Arrichet posted:'Yes,' I cried, 'but who has been killed?' Hastings, this might actually be your fault.
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Dec 28, 2022 14:03
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Chapter 14 – The Second Body Hastings wastes no more time talking to the maids, instead rushing to the shed to see the new body. There he finds Giraud hard at work on his knees (are we still doing “phrasing”?), who is at first startled to hear somebody come in, but calms down when he sees it’s just “c’est l’Anglaise”, and invites Hastings to take a look. Arthur Hastings posted:The dead man was on his back. He was of medium height, dark skin, possibly in his fifties. He was impeccably dressed in a dark-blue well-cut suit. The face was terribly convulsed. On the left side, a little over the heart, there was the black shiny handle of a paper-knife. I recognised it immediately. It was the same knife I had seen in the jar the morning before! Well there’s no sense being surprised about it Arthur, you already knew that! Giraud points out that, given the dagger is still in his heart, they don’t exactly need the doctor to determine cause of death, and gives his own guess at time to death to not long after Hastings had last left the shed, 10AM the previous day. He also has to point out to Hastings that, no, the man was not killed in the shed, that would be stupid. M. Giraud and Arthur Hastings posted:Giraud gave an unpleasant laugh. He knows one of them was a woman because he found a long blak hair, much the same as Poirot found in the library some chapters back, stuck to the knife handle. And as we all know, there’s no such thing as a long-haired man. Giraud, much like Poirot, is enjoying using Hastings to show off how clever he his, establishing that Hastings doesn’t see anything of importance, then throwing him a freebie clue. M. Giraud and Arthur Hastings posted:'Look at his hands.' Giraud also notes that there are still no fingerprints on the knife, so the killer wore gloves again, but gsuddenly hushes up when Hastings asks if he thinks this guy was killed by the same person who killed Renauld. He then checks with the on-duty officer if Eloise and Jack are being brought to question about the body as he requested, and instructs that they be brought in one at a time. Eloise quite calmly (too calmly, says Hastings) claims him to be a complete stranger, then hems and haws when Giraud asks if he could be one of the kidnappers, before finally coming down on the side of no. Jack doesn’t even get to speak on-page, with just a single sentence establishing that he doesn’t know the man either. Unexpectedly, they’re followed up by Madame Daubreuil, who pitches a fit about being questioned in connection with a murder investigation. She and Giraud trade verbal blows for a bit, her outraged, him trying to go full Phoenix Wright as he presents the hair from the knife, a match for hers in color and length, which is enough to shake her into answering his questions. Unlike the “too calm” Madame Renauld, Madame Daubreuil looks at the dead man with “interest and curiosity”, before stating that she doesn’t recognize him. Giraud lets her go, to Hastings’ surprise, certain that the hair must be hers, but Giraud tells him off for trying to tell him how to do his job, with a very Poirot-like “I have no wish to arrest her yet”. Giraud and Hastings engage in a bit of 1920s casual psuedoscience, pretending to be able to tell where a man is from by his face, not only identifying him as not South American (or rather, not a “Spanish type), but agreeing that he’s very obviously French, before Giraud goes back to bloodhound mode. Arthur Hastings posted:He stood there for a moment, then with an imperative gesture he waved me aside and once more, on hands and knees he continued his search of the floor of the shed. He was marvellous. Nothing escaped him. Inch by inch he went over the floor, turning over pots, examining old sacks. He pounced on a bundle by the door, but it proved to be only a ragged coat and trousers, and he flung it down again with a snarl. Two pairs of old gloves interested him, but in the end he shook his head and laid them aside. Then he went back to the pots, methodically turning them over one by one. In the end he rose to his feet, and shook his head thoughtfully. He seemed baffled and perplexed. I think he had forgotten my presence. After that, Hautet, Bex, and the doctor show up. Hautet brings up the same theory Giraud was toying with about the man being one of Renauld’s murderers, but Giraud has thoroughly decided that the man must be French because he looks like a Frenchman. Presumably Hasting’s description of his investigation neglected to mention his beret, cigarette, and paper bag with a baguette sticking out. Giraud does turn out to be wrong in one detail though. Rather than having died after the dagger was stolen, as he stated earlier, the doctor tells them that the man has been dead for at least two days, “and probably longer”. Well, I guess this corpse isn't Hastings' fault after all!
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Feb 2, 2023 12:46
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Chapter 15: A Photograph Hastings is confused (as is everybody else in the room) about the man is found dead, stabbed with a dagger stolen only the previous day, except he died at least a day before that, but his confusion is interrupted by a telegram, which turns out to be from Poirot, informing Hastings of his return to Merlinville by train that afternoon, conveniently arriving shortly. Poirot’s train is delayed, enough for Hastings to wander aimlessly around the station, with no brilliant detectives available to latch onto, he’s forced to come up with is own brilliant ideas, like asking the chief porter if any suspicious South American banditos had left by the midnight train the night of the murder, or if Jack Renauld had happened to have done so. The porter saw no Chileans, and exposits that it would be strange for Jack to have left on that train, given that he had arrived by train less than half an hour before that. Even Hastings can put two and two together and realize this clashes with Jack’s story. He was in town the night of the murder, rather than in Cherbourg waiting on a boat. But Hastings’ attempts to put the facts together are interrupted by Poirot arriving in good spirits, desperate for somebody to humble brag to. I kid, I kid. He’s not humble about it. Hercule Poirot and Arthur Hastings posted:“Mon cher ami! I have succeeded - but succeeded to a marvel!' Poirot’s bragging is interrupted (so many interruptions in this chapter!) by Hastings telling him about the second murder, which thoroughly ruins whatever theory he had. Hercule Poirot and Arthur Hastings posted:'What is that you say? Another murder? Ah, then, but I am all wrong. I have failed. Giraud may mock himself at me - he will have reason!' I mean, he’s the detective protagonist, so we know he’s almost always eventually right, but I feel like Christie’s still playing around with his characterization before settling. Later Poirot would be aghast at how openly egotistical early Poirot is. On the other hand, the very next thing out of his mouth is pretty impressive. Having previously known nothing about the murder and still knowing no details, Poirot instantly deduces the age of the deceased, the location of the murder, the time of death, and that he was found stabbed with the dagger. Hastings is certain his friend is loving with him and heard the details from somebody else, but no, Poirot just really is exactly is good as he believes himself to be. He ponders if the dagger is actually the same as the one that went missing, or if there are two identical aggers in play. The weapon used to kill Renauld was comissioned by Jack as a war souvenier, he proposes it’s not impossible he might have gotten more than one. They arrive back at the shed, where everybody is still hanging about (Hastings describes them as “all our friends”, I’m not sure Giraud would enjoy that description), and Poirot gets to work on his own investigation of the body, though ignores the crime scene, save for investigating the same bundle of dirty ragged clothes Giraud had previously looked at, and asks, and Giraud confirms, that they’re just the gardener’s dirty spare clothes. He pays more attention to the body, particularly the dead man’s clothes and especially his boots, as well as his fingernails, asking Giraud if he “saw them”, and Giraud confirms that he did. Poirot questions the doctor if he had noticed the dried foam on the man’s lips, which he had not, before examining the dagger wound. He notes the obvious thing that should have jumped out to everybody first thing - where’s the blood? There’s no blood on the ground, none on the clothes, barely even any on the dagger. The doctor calls it abnormal, but Poirot points out the obvious: the man was stabbed postmortem. When prompted for his opinion, Giraud agrees. Poirot goes a step further, suggesting that the man was in fact not murdered, but died of natural causes, specifically an epileptic fit. The doctor eamines him again and immediately concurs, he’d missed the signs because he figured the dagger in the chest was the obvious cause. Becuase people are stabbed to death without bleeding all the time, you see. Giraud tries to one-up Poirot by showing him the strand of hair previously found on the dagger, taunting him by refusing to discuss whose it might be before he saunters off, and Poirot accuses Giraud of trying to mislead him. Poirot and Hastings saunter off themselves to get lunch, and then return to their hotel, where Poirot finally gets to brag about his great accomplishment in Paris. Arthur Hastings and Hercule Poirot posted:Afterwards we went up to our sitting-room and there I begged him to tell me something of his mysterious journey to Paris.
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Feb 8, 2023 12:38
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https://twitter.com/SketchesbyBoze/status/1661163827335946241?s=20
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May 25, 2023 12:07
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how regrettable that le bon chat does not make all mice exactly the same size
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May 25, 2023 17:25
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Chapter 16: The Beroldy Case As the end of last chapter suggested, the entirety of this chapter is three pages of Hastings going full recap mode, summarizing the events of the titular murder case from 20+ years ago. The story features a partner in a wine company, Arnold Beroldy and his wife Jeanne. The two lived a happy married life, moving from Lyon to Paris shortly before the flashback takes place with their unnamed baby daughter. Jeanne has a mysterious rumored past where she might be the legitimate or illegitimate daughter of a Russian or Austrian nobleman, but more relevant to events is that, although she didn’t cheat on her husband, she did encourage the attentions of other men, including a wealthy American named Hiram P. Trapp and a young lawyer named Georges Conneau. In later stories, Poirot has a butler named Georges. They’re absolutely not the same person, it just amused me to consider the idea for a moment. Three months after the Beroldys moved to Paris, Jeanne started confiding in her friends her fears for her husband: Arthur Hastings posted:To several friends, she declared herself greatly worried on her husband's behalf. She explained that he had been drawn into several schemes of a political nature, and also referred to some important papers that had been entrusted to him for safe-keeping and which concerned a 'secret' of far-reaching European importance. They had been entrusted to his custody to throw pursuers off the track, but Madame Beroldy was nervous, having recognized several important members of the Revolutionary Circle in Paris. Countless hours scouring impeccable academic sources (or five minutes of Google and Wikipedia, basically the same thing) have not made it clear to me what this Revolutionary Circle is, assuming that it’s a real thing at all. Back to the story at hand, one late November day, the Beroldys’ cleaning woman arrived at their apartment to find the door open and Jeanne Beroldy bound and formerly gagged, moaning in pain, while Arnold Beroldy was in bed, stabbed through the heart with a knife. When questioned, Madame Beroldy explained that she and her husband had been woken in the middle of the night by masked men who tied her up and then tried to force him to tell them about “the secret”, only to become enraged and stab him to death when he refused, before using his keys to empty the safe and taking off. Although both men were masked (and bearded), Madame Beroldy confidently identified them as Russians. Careful readers may note that some of these details sound a little familiar. Eventually, the bottom fell out of the whole story; Jeanne Beroldy was arrested and charged with her husband’s murder. All the stories, from the noble parentage (her parents were fruit merchants from Lyon) to the secret political dealings (nonexistent), were all made up by her, all to support the story she would eventually tell about how her husband had been murdered by Russians. Her goal was simply that she wanted to hook up with the rich American Trapp, but he was a good and honorable man who refused to engage in adultery. Arthur Hastings posted:Throughout, Madame Beroldy confronted her accusers with complete sang-froid and self-possession. Her story never varied. She continued to declare strenuously that she was of royal birth and that she had been substituted for the daughter of the fruit-seller at an early age. Absurd and completely unsubstantiated as these statements were, a great number of people believed implicitly in their truth. That didn’t stop the prosecution, of course. There was no evidence that the “Russians” existed at all; instead, they accused Jeanne of working with the man she was cheating on Arnold, Georges Conneau, and the evidence showed that she had been tied up so loosely she could have easily freed herself at any time. And then the big evidence arrived, a letter sent to the prosecutor by Conneau. He’d been paying attention to the trial, and finding out that Jeanne had wanted to kill her husband to marry Trapp, rather than him, enraged Conneau, and so he sent a letter in confessing to everything and naming Jeanne as the mastermind of the whole deed. And so Jeanne changed her story. Of course the Russians were made up! In fact, she never even woke up until Arnold was killed, whereupon she woke to see Conneau standing over her with the bloody knife, and she was forced to keep silence by Conneau, who had threatened her if she revealed the truth! Arthur Hastings posted:It was a touch-and-go affair. Madame Beroldy's story was hardly credible. But her address to the jury was a masterpiece. The tears streaming down her face, she spoke of her child - of her woman's honour - of her desire to keep her reputation untarnished for the child's sake. She admitted that, Georges Conneau having been her lover, she might perhaps be held morally responsible for the crime - but, before God, nothing more! She knew that she had committed a grave fault in not denouncing Conneau to the law but she declared in a broken voice that that was a thing no woman could have done. She had loved him! Could she let her hand be the one to send him to the guillotine? She had been guilty of much, but she was innocent of the terrible crime imputed to her. Jeanne Beroldy was acquitted. Even in Christie’s day, the legal system is a loving joke. Georges Conneau was never found, and Jeanne and her daughter left Paris to begin a new life… I feel the need to channel the spirit of the CinemaSins guy here. This works *DING* .
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May 26, 2023 12:52
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