I ordered this book from the library several weeks ago. There was a waiting list, so I waited. I was really looking forward to reading this book and I started reading it with an open mind, however, I am sorry to say, I am disappointed. I wanted to enjoy this story and there were a couple of things about the book I did like, but overall . . . In my opinion, the author missed the mark.
Poirot is sitting in a coffee shop in London when a woman enters clearly distressed about something. Poirot wants to help, so he approaches her. She tells him, she is a dead or soon will be and leaves. Later, Poirot learns that two women and one man have been murdered at a London Hotel. Is there a connection?
The man in this story who calls himself Poirot, was not Poirot. I don’t know who he was, but he wasn’t Poirot. I thought he was such a poor likeness to Agatha Christie’s Poirot, if I had not been reading his name throughout the story, I would not have known it was the famous detective.
The story rambled on and on. Towards the end of the book, it blathered on so much, I lost interest in the story, but I do know the identity of the killer.
On a more positive note, I did like Catchpool and Fee Spring, the waitress with the flyaway hair. I thought both of these characters were comical at times and a nice addition to the story.
It begs the question, should we even attempt to do another person’s work?