Alright, hop aboard the world’s most famous train for a murder mystery that’s as thrilling as it is mind-bending. Welcome to Murder on the Orient Express, where Hercule Poirot’s mustache is as sharp as his detective skills, and everyone’s got a secret.
The story kicks off with Hercule Poirot, the Belgian detective with an ego bigger than his mustache, wrapping up a case in Istanbul. He’s looking forward to a nice, quiet ride back to London aboard the luxurious Orient Express. But, as fate (and Agatha Christie) would have it, there’s no rest for the wicked – or the world’s greatest detective.
The train is packed, and among the passengers is a motley crew of characters straight out of central casting: there’s a rich American named Samuel Ratchett who looks like he stepped off the set of a gangster movie; his secretary, Hector MacQueen, who’s as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs; and a parade of aristocrats, governesses, missionaries, and other assorted eccentrics.
Ratchett, being the charming fellow he is, asks Poirot for protection, claiming his life is in danger. Poirot, sensing that Ratchett has the moral compass of a Disney villain, declines the job. Sure enough, that night, Ratchett is found dead in his compartment, stabbed a dozen times. It’s a murder so brutal it makes Psycho look like a bedtime story.
The train, conveniently snowed in, becomes the world’s fanciest crime scene. Poirot, ever the professional, takes charge and starts interrogating the passengers. What follows is a series of interviews that reveal everyone had a motive to off Ratchett, who, it turns out, was actually a gangster named Cassetti, responsible for a heinous kidnapping and murder years earlier.
We’ve got Princess Dragomiroff, who looks like she might keel over at any second but has the steeliness of a Bond villain; Count and Countess Andrenyi, who are too glamorous to be innocent; Colonel Arbuthnot, who’s got a stiff upper lip and a secret softer side; Mary Debenham, the British governess with nerves of steel; and a Swedish missionary who’s so sweet she could give you diabetes just by looking at her.
Each passenger’s story is like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle that Poirot has to fit together. As he digs deeper, he uncovers a web of lies, alibis, and hidden connections. The interviews reveal that the passengers aren’t just random strangers but are all connected to the Armstrong family – the victims of Cassetti’s earlier crime.
Poirot’s little grey cells work overtime as he pieces together the shocking truth: everyone on the train had a hand in the murder. It’s a collective act of justice, a courtroom drama on wheels. Ratchett/Cassetti’s murder was a group effort, each person delivering a stab to ensure he’d pay for his past crimes.
The climax of the book is Poirot laying out his findings with the flair of a magician revealing the final trick. He presents two solutions to the Yugoslavian police: one where an unknown outsider snuck onto the train and killed Ratchett, and the other, the real solution, where the passengers all acted as judge, jury, and executioner. The police, realizing the scales of justice have balanced in an unconventional way, decide to go with the first solution and let the passengers go.
So, what’s Agatha Christie saying with this tale of snowbound justice and elaborate revenge? Murder on the Orient Express isn’t just a whodunit – it’s a meditation on morality, justice, and the lengths people will go to right a wrong. Christie expertly weaves a narrative that keeps you guessing until the end, reminding us that sometimes, justice isn’t black and white but a complicated shade of grey.
And remember, next time you’re on a train, maybe keep an eye on your fellow passengers – and always pack a spare mustache just in case you need to channel your inner Poirot.
Author :- Agatha Christie
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