Poirot and Hastings, who evidently plays a lot of hooky from his Argentinian ranch, are taking in a show one afternoon when they become embroiled in a divorce case that turns into a murder with plenty of plausible suspects. Was Lord Edgware killed for his terrible secrets, for his money, or simply because he had become an inconvenience?
This one really kept me guessing, and it was great fun trying to figure out which clues were the important ones. This novel, as many Poirots are, is elevated through the narrative voice of Hastings, who, with his gentleman’s biases, can be an unreliable narrator with regards to presenting the facts. I particularly found Dame Christie’s suggestion of Lord Edgware’s unusual proclivities rather bold for the times, although certainly tame by modern standards.