Detective Methods and Inner Lives Theme Analysis

Hercule Poirot is a recurring character in Agatha Christie’s mysteries, appearing in thirty-three novels and more than fifty short stories over the course of her career. Recurring detectives are a tradition in mystery stories, one which includes Edgar Allan Poe’s C. Auguste Dupin and, of course, Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes. These detectives are often eccentric or solitary, but despite that, they often appear dashing or imposing, even if only for their considerable intelligence. Within the first pages of Christie’s novel, it’s clear that Hercule Poirot is not that sort of detective, as he’s described as “a small man muffled up to the ears of whom nothing was visible but a pink-tipped nose and the two points of an upward-curled moustache.” Yet, as becomes clear, Poirot’s disarming, even ridiculous personal appearance lends itself perfectly to his particular method of investigation, which involves extended personal engagement with suspects and witnesses rather than connecting many minute details of appearance or setting. Poirot does follow what are traditionally called “clues,” or material evidence, but he, and the novel, suggest that more effective crime-solving requires diving into the psychology and experiences of the subjects of the investigation.

Hercule Poirot is a short, rotund man with a waxed mustache and elegant clothes, which is what few would expect in a detective. He’s able to hear, observe, and extract details of the passengers’ private lives partially because he appears unthreatening or unserious. His eccentricities, rather than alienating suspects and witnesses as Sherlock Holmes would, end up drawing information out of them. On first observing Poirot, “In spite of her preoccupations Mary Debenham smiled. A ridiculous-looking little man. The sort of little man one could never take seriously.” His appearance even soothes her anxiety over the murder she’s contemplating. A little later, Mary Debenham “seemed suddenly to come to herself, to realise that she was talking to a stranger and foreigner, with whom, until this morning, she had exchanged only half a dozen sentences.” Fellow detective Mr. Hardman even issues Poirot a backhanded compliment: “but no one would believe it to look at you. I take off my hat to you. I do indeed." The fact that “no one would believe it” is a cornerstone of Poirot’s effectiveness as a detective.

The setting of the novel also highlights Poirot’s personal touch. After conducting all his interviews, Poirot remarks, “We are cut off from all the normal routes of procedure. Are these people whose evidence we have taken speaking the truth, or lying?” The novel’s primary setting—a stranded train in Yugoslavia—precludes the kind of deep research and cross-referencing of crime-scene information that mysteries often call for. Poirot’s method instead seeks and finds “clues” by pushing small emotional levers in his suspects and observing them keenly for any changes in behavior.  For instance, when interviewing the Countess Andrenyi, Poirot surprises her by saying, “‘I work mainly in London. You speak English?’ he added in that language.” She responds, “‘I speak a leetle, yes.’ Her accent was charming.” The novel reveals later that the Countess is, in fact, American, and it’s not clear whether Poirot finds the accent “charming” for its authenticity or its clumsiness. But he acquires information by requiring that she deny her reflex to speak perfectly in her native language, and instead speak in a Russian misunderstanding of it.

Similarly, he’s attentive to and willing to exploit pain or nostalgia in suspects. Speaking with Mr. Hardman, Poirot rhapsodizes about European women in what seems like a non-sequitur: “The French or the Belgian girl, coquettish, charming—I think there is no one to touch her.” But Hardman’s wistful glance out the window is how Poirot confirms that he was the lover of the young French nursemaid employed by the Armstrongs.

Poirot’s subtle nudges might be less dramatic than a reader would expect in detective fiction. However, the style of a Sherlock Holmes, in which minute details are connected and arcane expertise comes into play, may not be effective in a situation where the details of the crime scene are irrelevant, as they’ve been intentionally planted. Instead, Christie privileges smaller details: moments where Poirot induces a suspect to act against or in accordance with their instincts. In the process, she creates a distinctive niche for her detective and holds up the inner lives of victims and perpetrators as the most compelling aspects of murder.