You know, I'm starting to think that "the literal best-selling author of all time" Agatha Christie might be a pretty good writer.

If I were to map out all of the characters and relations and motives and events that happen in this book I'd look like Charlie looking for Pepe Silvia. Not to say that I had trouble keeping on top of what was happening, but this was definitely a more complicated story than The Mysterious Affair at Styles, which was my first go-around with Poirot.

Speaking of, I still find it interesting that the detective that the book series is named after isn't even the protagonist. Or at least, everything is conveyed to us in first person by a close personal friend of his that just happens to be present for most of the pivotal moments. In the first half of the book I was wondering why this story was being told from someone else's perspective until it finally became plot-relevant in the latter half.

There's a second in-fiction detective that Poirot got to bounce off of in this one which was a fun dynamic. And barring one out-of-left-field love confession that had my literally rolling my eyes (I'm assuming it landed better with the target audience when this book came out eighty-nine years ago), this still held up. Just an all-around fun murder mystery with more twists and turns that I would trust the average writer to pull off successfully.