The Mysterious Affair at Styles: A Hercule Poirot Mystery (Warbler Classics)

By Agatha Christie

One morning at Styles Court, an Essex country manor, the elderly owner is found dead of strychnine poisoning. Arthur Hastings, a soldier staying there on sick leave from the Western Front, ventures out to the nearby village of Styles St. Mary to ask help from his friend Hercule Poirot, an eccentric Belgian inspector. Thus, in this classic whodun

• Language: English
• Publisher: Warbler Classics
• Release date: Jan 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781734452518

Agatha Christie

Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She died in 1976, after a prolific career spanning six decades.

Book preview

Christie_STYLES_front-rev.jpg

The Mysterious Affair

at Styles

The Mysterious Affair

at Styles

Agatha Christie

First Warbler Classics Edition 2020

First published by The Bodley Head in 1920

www.warblerpress.com

isbn

978-1-7344525-0-1 (paperback)

isbn

978-1-7344525-1-8 (e-book)

To my Mother.

Contents

CHAPTER I.

I GO TO STYLES

CHAPTER II.

THE 16

th

AND 17

th

OF JULY

CHAPTER III.

THE NIGHT OF THE TRAGEDY

CHAPTER IV.

POIROT INVESTIGATES

CHAPTER V.

IT ISN’T STRYCHNINE, IS IT?

CHAPTER VI.

THE INQUEST

CHAPTER VII.

POIROT PAYS HIS DEBTS

CHAPTER VIII.

FRESH SUSPICIONS

CHAPTER IX.

DR. BAUERSTEIN

CHAPTER X.

THE ARREST

CHAPTER XI.

THE CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION

CHAPTER XII.

THE LAST LINK

CHAPTER XIII.

POIROT EXPLAINS

About the Author

CHAPTER I.

I GO TO STYLES

The intense interest aroused in the public by what was known at the time as The Styles Case has now somewhat subsided. Nevertheless, in view of the world-wide notoriety which attended it, I have been asked, both by my friend Poirot and the family themselves, to write an account of the whole story. This, we trust, will effectually silence the sensational rumours which still persist.

I will therefore briefly set down the circumstances which led to my being connected with the affair.

I had been invalided home from the Front; and, after spending some months in a rather depressing Convalescent Home, was given a month’s sick leave. Having no near relations or friends, I was trying to make up my mind what to do, when I ran across John Cavendish. I had seen very little of him for some years. Indeed, I had never known him particularly well. He was a good fifteen years my senior, for one thing, though he hardly looked his forty-five years. As a boy, though, I had often stayed at Styles, his mother’s place in Essex.

We had a good yarn about old times, and it ended in his inviting me down to Styles to spend my leave there.

The mater will be delighted to see you again—after all those years, he added.

Your mother keeps well? I asked.

Oh, yes. I suppose you know that she has married again?

I am afraid I showed my surprise rather plainly. Mrs. Cavendish, who had married John’s father when he was a widower with two sons, had been a handsome woman of middle-age as I remembered her. She certainly could not be a day less than seventy now. I recalled her as an energetic, autocratic personality, somewhat inclined to charitable and social notoriety, with a fondness for opening bazaars and playing the Lady Bountiful. She was a most generous woman, and possessed a considerable fortune of her own.

Their country-place, Styles Court, had been purchased by Mr. Cavendish early in their married life. He had been completely under his wife’s ascendancy, so much so that, on dying, he left the place to her for her lifetime, as well as the larger part of his income; an arrangement that was distinctly unfair to his two sons. Their step-mother, however, had always been most generous to them; indeed, they were so young at the time of their father’s remarriage that they always thought of her as their own mother.

Lawrence, the younger, had been a delicate youth. He had qualified as a doctor but early relinquished the profession of medicine, and lived at home while pursuing literary ambitions; though his verses never had any marked success.

John practised for some time as a barrister, but had finally settled down to the more congenial life of a country squire. He had married two years ago, and had taken his wife to live at Styles, though I entertained a shrewd suspicion that he would have preferred his mother to increase his allowance, which would have enabled him to have a home of his own. Mrs. Cavendish, however, was a lady who liked to make her own plans, and expected other people to fall in with them, and in this case she certainly had the whip hand, namely: the purse strings.

John noticed my surprise at the news of his mother’s remarriage and smiled rather ruefully.

Rotten little bounder too! he said savagely. I can tell you, Hastings, it’s making life jolly difficult for us. As for Evie—you remember Evie?

No.

Oh, I suppose she was after your time. She’s the mater’s factotum, companion, Jack of all trades! A great sport—old Evie! Not precisely young and beautiful, but as game as they make them.

You were going to say——?

Oh, this fellow! He turned up from nowhere, on the pretext of being a second cousin or something of Evie’s, though she didn’t seem particularly keen to acknowledge the relationship. The fellow is an absolute outsider, anyone can see that. He’s got a great black beard, and wears patent leather boots in all weathers! But the mater cottoned to him at once, took him on as secretary—you know how she’s always running a hundred societies?

I nodded.

Well, of course the war has turned the hundreds into thousands. No doubt the fellow was very useful to her. But you could have knocked us all down with a feather when, three months ago, she suddenly announced that she and Alfred were engaged! The fellow must be at least twenty years younger than she is! It’s simply bare-faced fortune hunting; but there you are—she is her own mistress, and she’s married him.

It must be a difficult situation for you all.

Difficult! It’s damnable!

Thus it came about that, three days later, I descended from the train at Styles St. Mary, an absurd little station, with no apparent reason for existence, perched up in the midst of green fields and country lanes. John Cavendish was waiting on the platform, and piloted me out to the car.

Got a drop or two of petrol still, you see, he remarked. Mainly owing to the mater’s activities.

The village of Styles St. Mary was situated about two miles from the little station, and Styles Court lay a mile the other side of it. It was a still, warm day in early July. As one looked out over the flat Essex country, lying so green and peaceful under the afternoon sun, it seemed almost impossible to believe that, not so very far away, a great war was running its appointed course. I felt I had suddenly strayed into another world. As we turned in at the lodge gates, John said:

I’m afraid you’ll find it very quiet down here, Hastings.

My dear fellow, that’s just what I want.

Oh, it’s pleasant enough if you want to lead the idle life. I drill with the volunteers twice a week, and lend a hand at the farms. My wife works regularly ‘on the land’. She is up at five every morning to milk, and keeps at it steadily until lunchtime. It’s a jolly good life taking it all round—if it weren’t for that fellow Alfred Inglethorp! He checked the car suddenly, and glanced at his watch. I wonder if we’ve time to pick up Cynthia. No, she’ll have started from the hospital by now.

Cynthia! That’s not your wife?

No, Cynthia is a protégée of my mother’s, the daughter of an old schoolfellow of hers, who married a rascally solicitor. He came a cropper, and the girl was left an orphan and penniless. My mother came to the rescue, and Cynthia has been with us nearly two years now. She works in the Red Cross Hospital at Tadminster, seven miles away.

As he spoke the last words, we drew up in front of the fine old house. A lady in a stout tweed skirt, who was bending over a flower bed, straightened herself at our approach.

Hullo, Evie, here’s our wounded hero! Mr. Hastings—Miss Howard.

Miss Howard shook hands with a hearty, almost painful, grip. I had an impression of very blue eyes in a sunburnt face. She was a pleasant-looking woman of about forty, with a deep voice, almost manly in its stentorian tones, and had a large sensible square body, with feet to match—these last encased in good thick boots. Her conversation, I soon found, was couched in the telegraphic style.

Weeds grow like house afire. Can’t keep even with ’em. Shall press you in. Better be careful.

I’m sure I shall be only too delighted to make myself useful, I responded.

Don’t say it. Never does. Wish you hadn’t later.

You’re a cynic, Evie, said John, laughing. Where’s tea to-day—inside or out?

Out. Too fine a day to be cooped up in the house.

Come on then, you’ve done enough gardening for to-day. ‘The labourer is worthy of his hire’, you know. Come and be refreshed.

Well, said Miss Howard, drawing off her gardening gloves, I’m inclined to agree with you.

She led the way round the house to where tea was spread under the shade of a large sycamore.

A figure rose from one of the basket chairs, and came a few steps to meet us.

My wife, Hastings, said John.

I shall never forget my first sight of Mary Cavendish. Her tall, slender form, outlined against the bright light; the vivid sense of slumbering fire that seemed to find expression only in those wonderful tawny eyes of hers, remarkable eyes, different from any other woman’s that I have ever known; the intense power of stillness she possessed, which nevertheless conveyed the impression of a wild untamed spirit in an exquisitely civilised body—all these things are burnt into my memory. I shall never forget them.

She greeted me with a few words of pleasant welcome in a low clear voice, and I sank into a basket chair feeling distinctly glad that I had accepted John’s invitation. Mrs. Cavendish gave me some tea, and her few quiet remarks heightened my first impression of her as a thoroughly fascinating woman. An appreciative listener is always stimulating, and I described, in a humorous manner, certain incidents of my Convalescent Home, in a way which, I flatter myself, greatly amused my hostess. John, of course, good fellow though he is, could hardly be called a brilliant conversationalist.

At that moment a well remembered voice floated through the open French window near at hand:

Then you’ll write to the Princess after tea, Alfred? I’ll write to Lady Tadminster for the second day, myself. Or shall we wait until we hear from the Princess? In case of a refusal, Lady Tadminster might open it the first day, and Mrs. Crosbie the second. Then there’s the Duchess—about the school fête.

There was the murmur of a man’s voice, and then Mrs. Inglethorp’s rose in reply:

Yes, certainly. After tea will do quite well. You are so thoughtful, Alfred dear.

The French window swung open a little wider, and a handsome white-haired old lady, with a somewhat masterful cast of features, stepped out of it on to the lawn. A man followed her, a suggestion of deference in his manner.

Mrs. Inglethorp greeted me with effusion.

Why, if it isn’t too delightful to see you again, Mr. Hastings, after all these years. Alfred, darling, Mr. Hastings—my husband.

I looked with some curiosity at Alfred darling. He certainly struck a rather alien note. I did not wonder at John objecting to his beard. It was one of the longest and blackest I have ever seen. He wore gold-rimmed pince-nez, and had a curious impassivity of feature. It struck me that he might look natural on a stage, but was strangely out of place in real life. His voice was rather deep and unctuous. He placed a wooden hand in mine and said:

This is a pleasure, Mr. Hastings. Then, turning to his wife: Emily dearest, I think that cushion is a little damp.

She beamed fondly on him, as he substituted another with every demonstration of the tenderest care. Strange infatuation of an otherwise sensible woman!

With the presence of Mr. Inglethorp, a sense of constraint and veiled hostility seemed to settle down upon the company. Miss Howard, in particular, took no pains to conceal her feelings. Mrs. Inglethorp, however, seemed to notice nothing unusual. Her volubility, which I remembered of old, had lost nothing in the intervening years, and she poured out a steady flood of conversation, mainly on the subject of the forthcoming bazaar which she was organizing and which was to take place shortly. Occasionally she referred to her husband over a question of days or dates. His watchful and attentive manner never varied. From the very first I took a firm and rooted dislike to him, and I flatter myself that my first judgments are usually fairly shrewd.

Presently Mrs. Inglethorp turned to give some instructions about letters to Evelyn Howard, and her husband addressed me in his painstaking voice:

Is soldiering your regular profession, Mr. Hastings?

No, before the war I was in Lloyd’s.

And you will return there after it is over?

Perhaps. Either that or a fresh start altogether.

Mary Cavendish leant forward.

What would you really choose as a profession, if you could just consult your inclination?

Well, that depends.

No secret hobby? she asked. Tell me—you’re drawn to something? Everyone is—usually something absurd.

You’ll laugh at me.

She smiled.

Perhaps.

Well, I’ve always had a secret hankering to be a detective!

The real thing—Scotland Yard? Or Sherlock Holmes?

Oh, Sherlock Holmes by all means. But really, seriously, I am awfully drawn to it. I came across a man in Belgium once, a very famous detective, and he quite inflamed me. He was a marvellous little fellow. He used to say that all good detective work was a mere matter of method. My system is based on his—though of course I have progressed rather further. He was a funny little man, a great dandy, but wonderfully clever.

Like a good detective story myself, remarked Miss Howard. Lots of nonsense written, though. Criminal discovered in last chapter. Everyone dumbfounded. Real crime—you’d know at once.

There have been a great number of undiscovered crimes, I argued.

Don’t mean the police, but the people that are right in it. The family. You couldn’t really hoodwink them. They’d know.

Then, I said, much amused, you think that if you were mixed up in a crime, say a murder, you’d be able to spot the murderer right off?

Of course I should. Mightn’t be able to prove it to a pack of lawyers. But I’m certain I’d know. I’d feel it in my fingertips if he came near me.

It might be a ‘she’, I suggested.

Might. But murder’s a violent crime. Associate it more with a man.

Not in a case of poisoning. Mrs. Cavendish’s clear voice startled me. Dr. Bauerstein was saying yesterday that, owing to the general ignorance of the more uncommon poisons among the medical profession, there were probably countless cases of poisoning quite unsuspected.

Why, Mary, what a gruesome conversation! cried Mrs. Inglethorp. It makes me feel as if a goose were walking over my grave. Oh, there’s Cynthia!

A young girl in V.A.D. uniform ran lightly across the lawn.

Why, Cynthia, you are late to-day. This is Mr. Hastings—Miss Murdoch.

Cynthia Murdoch was a fresh-looking young creature, full of life and vigour. She tossed off her little V.A.D. cap, and I admired the great loose waves of her auburn hair, and the smallness and whiteness of the hand she held out to claim her tea. With dark eyes and eyelashes she would have been a beauty.

She flung herself down on the ground beside John, and as I handed her a plate of sandwiches she smiled up at me.

Sit down here on the grass, do. It’s ever so much nicer.

I dropped down obediently.

You work at Tadminster, don’t you, Miss Murdoch?

She nodded.

For my sins.

Do they bully you, then? I asked, smiling.

I should like to see them! cried Cynthia with dignity.

I have got a cousin who is nursing, I remarked. And she is terrified of ‘Sisters’.

"I don’t wonder. Sisters are, you know, Mr. Hastings. They simp-ly are! You’ve no idea! But I’m not a nurse, thank heaven, I work in the dispensary."

How many people do you poison? I asked, smiling.

Cynthia smiled too.

Oh, hundreds! she said.

Cynthia, called Mrs. Inglethorp, do you think you could write a few notes for me?

Certainly, Aunt Emily.

She jumped up promptly, and something in her manner reminded me that her position was a dependent one, and that Mrs. Inglethorp, kind as she might be in the main, did not allow her to forget it.

My hostess turned to me.

John will show you your room. Supper is at half-past seven. We have given up late dinner for some time now. Lady Tadminster, our Member’s wife—she was the late Lord Abbotsbury’s daughter—does the same. She agrees with me that one must set an example of economy. We are quite a war household; nothing is wasted here—every scrap of waste paper, even, is saved and sent away in sacks.

I expressed my appreciation, and John took me into the

Reviews for The Mysterious Affair at Styles

[rebeccaann_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The Mysterious Affair at Styles is the first of Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot series. It's not the best, but that doesn't mean it isn't good. Here the reader is introduced to Poirot and his quirkiness for the first time when he must solve the murder of rich woman. The clues kept coming in and the entire time, I was trying to guess who the culprit was. Of course, I was wrong, but that's not unusual with Christie's works. If you like mysteries, you'll like this book.

[mrtall_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Poirot and Hastings visit Styles St Mary, where Emily Inglethorpe has died horribly by poison. Although this is the very first of Agatha Christie's Poirot novels, it really isn't the place to start on this delightful series. Styles is charming and well-written, and Poirot and Hastings appear in the genesis of their glory, but the story itself is quite fussy, with many convoluted timelines and clues. This gives the novel a dated feel that Christie's later works don't suffer from.I would highly recommend every Christie fan read this book, but if you're new to reading her, start with a later work, i.e. from at least the 1930s.

[balthazar0lawson · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is the first Agatha Christie book I've read and what better place to start than her first published book and the first Hercule Poirot book.

I never knew what to expect from her books but I've been pleasantly surprised. Many would say that the writing style is very old fashioned but what is one to expect from a novel that is almost 100 years old.

This is an easy read, told in the first person from the point of view of Hastings and is a nice introduction to the author and characters.

[miyurose_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Another book that I can’t really review because really? What can you say about a master like Christie? I think what I like best about Poirot is not just that so much of what he detects is based on observation, but that he has a real soft spot for love. Someday, I will make it through all of these!

[lycomayflower · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Husbeast and I have been watching a lot of the David Suchet Poirot movies lately, and it occurred to me that I've read very little Agatha Christie (And Then There Were None as part of an assignment in eighth grade, which, honestly, is probably one of the reasons I've read so little Christie since then, and one or two others here and there, mostly, if I remember right, when I've been sick). So, picked up the first Poirot from the library the other day. Enjoyed this one quite a bit, much more than I've ever enjoyed reading Christie before, and I'm going to chalk that up to having been "introduced" to the characters (Hastings, as well as Poirot) in such a delightful way through the television programs. Looking forward to reading more--I already have Peril at End House in the short queue, as I didn't fully understand the solution as presented in the movie we watched (a rarity, that), and I'm hoping the book will tell me something that I missed or that was left out of the film.

[martensgirl · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This was a passable mystery; it seems so very similar to Christie's other books, except that it has a very convoluted plot.

[condorena · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This is the first of the famed Agatha Christie's book written in 1920. It takes place during The Great War and Hastings the narrator has just been invalided out as he called it. He goes to stay with a friend at a old estate known as Styles. It is here that Hastings first takes on his role as the famed ex- Belgian policeman Hercule Poirot's Watson.

After Hastings spent a few weeks the estate the matriarch of the Cavendish family succumbs to poisoning. Fortunately Poirot is living near the estate as part of an exiled group of Belgians that had been aided by the murder victim and he begins to become the caricature he later exemplifies. A mustache twirling, little grey cell using Sherlock.

The tale twists and flips with Poirot putting the small puzzle pieces together all the while a Perry Mason style court case has already begun. It is an illustrious beginning to a long career until his final adventure written in 1975 named CURTAIN

[tjsjohanna_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Agatha Christie is one of the masters of the "cozy" mystery. What was most amusing about this novel was the way the narrator of the story vacillated between admiration for Poirot and condescension for what the narrator assumed were the failings of age - and of course all the wrong turns he took trying to figure things out ahead of Poirot.

[olegalca · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I own every single Agatha Christie book ever written - every play, every book under Mary W... and I'm going to reread every single one interspersed with Anne Perry's two series. My mother and I worked hard to scour used bookstores for my collection and they deserve to be honoured.

[sriddle_13 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

First Agatha Christie in which a device she is to use frequently is introduced into the novel of unusual complexity for her usual plotting. See _Evil Under the Sun_, _Death on the Nile_, for other examples.

[bridgetmarkwood · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Christie's first! A star is born.

[madamejeanie · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Mr. Hastings, our narrator, is visiting his old friend John Cavendish at his country estate called Styles when John's recently remarried step-mother, Mrs. Emily Inglethorpe, dies of strychnine poisoning inside a bedroom locked from the inside. Was the murderer her new husband, Alfred, who is greatly disliked and distrusted by the household? Or could it have been one of her step-sons, John or his lazy brother Lawrence? Perhaps John's wife Mary, or Emily's protogee, Cynthia? Hastings calls in another old friend, recently retired Belgian detective Hercule Poirot, to investigate.This is the first Hercule Poirot mystery and was elegantly plotted, masterfully written, and quite logical in method. A very entertaining book and a quick read. I do see, however, that I will likely need to keep pen and pad handy to take notes when reading Ms. Christie!

[dirtpriest_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

There isn't much to say that hasn't been said about Christie or monsieur Poirot. Again, at Styles, the chance meeting of Poirot and a friend from the continent in England is a bit contrived, but there wouldn't be much of a story if he hadn't been invited to investigate the murder of Mrs. Inglethorp.

[figgles_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Introducing Poirot! Captain Hastings, invalided out of the army during the first World War, is visiting acquaintances at Styles Court, when his hostess is poisoned. Fortunately he finds a friend staying in the village who can help - a Belgian, ex-police, refugee... and Poirot makes his debut! Very enjoyable!

[riverwillow · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is the first book Agatha Christie published and the one that introduced Hercule Poirot to the world. The story was inspired by her experiences working at the Torbay Dispensary during WWI and of all the criticisms that could be thrown at her stories, no one could accuse her of not knowing her poisons. This is especially true of this book where an understanding of how two chemical compounds interact is key to solving the murder. But this book uses two of Christie's key devices, misdirection and the assembling of all the suspects for the denouement. Wonderful

[chellebearss · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is the first time I have picked up an Agatha Christie novel and I'm wondering what took me so long?!This was her debut novel introducing Hercule Poirot and it was a great read. It had all the characteristics of a good murder mystery and I especially enjoyed that Hercule gave the reader all the same clues that he had and left it up to the reader to figure out, if they can. I thought I had it figured out and then they threw me for a loop! I will check out more from this series!

[aliceanna-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Very enjoyable debut of both Christie and Poirot.

[kathy89_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This was an audio book read by David Suchet, the wonderful actor who portrays Hercule Poirot in the PBS mysteries. He reads the book in a very proper English accent except when he is reading Poirot's dialog and then he does his wonderful Belgium accent. The story is who killed Mrs. Inglethorpe with a huge house full of suspencts. Poirot is there to solve the murder for Inspector Japp with a great plot twist at the end.

[abiray-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

In this book, Christie introduces us to who is her arguably most memorable character - Hercule Poirot. Those familiar with Christie's books and their television and movie adaptations should be interested in reading the establishment of Poirot, Hastings, and Japp and discovering how their relationships evolved from their beginnings in this book to the much warmer friendships, especially between Poirot and Hastings, depicted in later books. The mystery itself is typical Christie, complete with red herrings and twists and turns.

[michigantrumpet_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

How have I managed to get this far in life without reading ANY Agatha Christie? Came across this lovely audiobook quite by chance at the library and set about to rectify the omission. So glad that I did. The first of the Hercule Poirot novels, we meet the fastidious Belgian detective and his upright friend, Arthur Hastings. Hastings is visiting his good friend John Cavendish and his lovely wife Mary. Of course, nothing is ever as it seems. In typical country house mystery fashion, the doyenne of the manor is apparently poisoned, right before the appalled family's eyes leaving a house full of suspects. The Cavendish family quickly enlists Arthur's little foreign detective friend to investigate. Charmingly narrated by Penelope Dellaporta, the mystery rips right along. Her clipped English tones helped keep David Suchet's voice out of my head.

[gttexas · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The very first Hercule Poirot book I believe, and quite good!

[weisser4 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

As usual, Hercule solves the crime! I adore all things Agatha and Hercule is my favorite sleuth.

[sasham-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

While I am not a huge fan of the character Poirot this is still an excellent little crime caper and more impressive that it was Christie's First published book. While I did think the plot was overly clever / complicated that is what you want in a who-dun-it, isn't it?

[philsyphe · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Although I liked the brisk narrative pace and quality of the author's writing, the actual story did little to enthrall me. The plotting was clever in its way but it didn't leave me in any great suspense like you'd expect from such a book.This was my first sample of Poirot. He reminds me of Mason's French Inspector Hanuad, though Hanuad is a much more absorbing character. That's not to say I dislike Poirot, however, as he was the best actor in this tale.

[katie_h_11 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Christie introduces her most famous character and one of literature's most loved detectives, Hercule Poirot, in classic Christie fashion. The murder mystery takes place in an upper class hosehold known as Styles Court. The mistress of the manor is Emily Inglethorpe, an elderly woman who has just married a much younger man. The many family members occupying the home become suspects when Mrs. Inglethorpe is murdered, and Poirot gets to work in what is later learned to be his typical quirky style. It is a fun adventure full of clues, suspicious characters, and theories, and it will keep you guessing until the very end.

[ssimon2000-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Classic closed-room murder mystery with a large number of suspects, twists to the narrative of each, and, of course, Belgian master-detective Hercule Poirot bring the mystery to a grand conclusion with all of the suspects in attendance, revealing all of the clues, however miniscule, that were in the story all along.

I listened to the Audible version of this book, narrated by David Thorn. Normally, I listen to Audible books at 2x speed, but Mr. Thorn's accents made it nearly impossible to follow, especially his Belgian accent when reading the lines of the detective, so I had to slow down the recording. Not sure I'll look for any other books narrated by him.

[usuallee · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Enjoyable puzzle.

[kristelh_15 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This is the debut novel for Ms Christie and the first appearance of Hercule Poirot, the Belgian detective. Arthur Hastings is recovering from a war wound and travels to Styles to see his friend, John. During this visit, John’s step mother is killed. Poirot uses his skills as a detective to solve the mystery. Hastings who likens himself a detective is an annoying character but against his dullness, Poirot is able to shine in his craft. The list of characters and twists and turns does make this a mystery that is not easy to guess the villain. The story was good, not her best but a debut novel and often the first in the series is a character building story. The reader did a good job. Not the best nor the worst.

[auntieknickers · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I reread The Mysterious Affair at Styles, Poirot's first case, a year or so ago. As usual with Christie's books, I could not remember who the murderer was even though I had probably read it at least twice before. (Subsequently I watched the David Suchet film,) Having read a great many first novels, I was surprised at how polished Christie's first effort was.

[addunn3 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A poisoning at Styles brings in the clueless Cpt. Hastings and HP to solve the murder.