We began with gentlemen detectives, the amateur C. August Dupin and the professional “consulting detective” Sherlock Holmes, who was a proto-CSI. Both were men of leisure from the upper class, hankering for intellectual challenge. Then came Father Brown, perhaps the first "psychological investigator." Although neither a man of leisure nor rich, he too was from the upper strata of society as was our fourth detective, the hard-boiled man of action Bulldog Drummond.


Now we turn to a detective who was decidedly not a man of action, the "arm chair sleuth" par excellence. Who does not know the famous Belgian ex-pat, Hercule Poirot?





A policeman in his native land, he was Chief of Police in Brussels. Forced to flee Belgium for Britain by The Great War, he never returns.

Many of his cases involve members of the high society among whom he moves. He is a globe-trotting investigator, solving murders in Europe, the Middle East, Africa and South America.






He first appears in Agatha Christie’s “The Mysterious Affair at Styles” in 1920.







Christie makes Poirot the antithesis of both the meticulous CSI Holmes and the rough and tumble P.I. Drummond. He does, however, share the psychological approach of Father Brown. Most intriguing to me is Poirot's tendency to keep secrets—both from his associates and clients and from the reader.










CO-INVESTIGATOR, SIDEKICK, and CONFIDANT

It seems de rigueur for fictional detectives to have sidekicks. Dupin had the narrator, Holmes had Doctor Watson, Father Brown had the reformed criminal Flambeau, and Drummond had a group of war buddies. Poirot has his friend Captain Arthur Hastings who is a confidant a la Holmes’ Watson.

Captain Hastings supplies the muscle when necessary, but he is a good investigator in his own right—although a lesser light than his friend.

Poirot's true foil is the plodding, Lestrade-type Scotland Yard detective, Inspector Japp. (This is formulistic, but if the official investigators were bright and competent, there would be no need for a private sleuth.)

HERCULE POIROT AS DESCRIBED BY CHRISTIE

Poirot is persnickety in dress, manners, and taste. Already in middle age, his attire, tastes, and manners are becoming antiquated. This mental giant is physically small (5’4”) but of noble carriage and great dignity. He has a neat military mustache (of Great War vintage), and is always impeccably dressed. Any untidiness is almost painful to him. The word “prissy” comes to mind.

The dandified detective fights time by dying his hair and refusing to adapt to changing style. Late in his career, his dress is described as hopelessly out of fashion.

Many actors have portrayed him. Perhaps the best movie or TV portrayal of his appearance was Albert Finney’s in the 1974 movie, Murder on the Orient Express.




















His habits are as impeccable as his appearance. He wants predictability and order in his life. Poirot is extremely punctual, frequently consulting his old-fashioned pocket watch.





Time zones were necessitated by rail travel, and the “turnip watch” he carries was common for train travelers.

Poirot loves trains and eschews autos, again revealing his clinging attachment to the world that was when he was young.

We love him for it.





THE POIROT METHOD

The Belgian detective is no hands-on CSI. In fact, he ridicules detectives (like Holmes) who dive into the fine details of physical evidence. He pays careful attention to them, but does so with an eye to WHO would leave such clues and WHY.

Modern investigators develop suspects by establishing motive, means, and opportunity, and then finding physical evidence linking suspect to crime. Interrogating suspects and acquaintances of the victim, they seek court-worthy facts to prove guilt.

Poirot follows a similar process. But he develops his suspects by letting the clues from the crime scene tell him about the killer and the victim, anticipating the procedure of criminal profiling developed by the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit. He examines the murderer-victim dynamic, trying to understand the intimate relationship leading to homicide.

Despite his growing reputation, Poirot is able to make people underestimate him by his appearance, manner, and history. He seems the alien, not so much from his ex-pat status as from his being “stuck” in a previous era. He seems prissy, antiquated—an odd duck, hopelessly out of touch with the modern world.

It is more appearance than fact. He is a genius at eliciting information when people have no idea they are giving it.

He is also old enough to seem harmless. Physically unthreatening, he often hides his brilliance until it is too late for the over-confident criminal to appreciate.

Poirot is the “master interrogator.” He knows that when a liar talks at length, he often gives himself away, either by revealing a hitherto hidden truth, or by becoming entangled in the details of his lie. As Mark Twain said of the truth: “it’s easier to remember.”



Poirot examines the “what,” “where” and “when” to discover the “why” which reveals the “who.” It is a matter of using “the little gray cells” to orchestrate the revelation of the solution to the mystery.

In the end, it is not the clues, but the guilty temselves that (with Poirot's help) give up the game.