Published in 1934, Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express is a classic example of the locked room mystery—a trope of suspense fiction in which a crime is committed under seemingly impossible conditions. Here, as in all of Christie’s novels, the crime is murder, the victim an unknown passenger named Mr. Ratchett, stabbed twelve times, and the scene of the crime the claustrophobic sleeping berths of the Orient Express.
Fortunately, or unfortunately as the case may be, one of the passengers happens to be Hercule Poirot, the Belgian detective bestowed with astounding intellect and even more astounding mustaches. Even more fortunately, the train has been caught in a snowstorm and will be unable to continue to its destination for some time. The murderer is effectively trapped. Poirot quickly sets his “little gray cells” to work and begins the investigation, which includes extensive interviews of the other passengers. These passengers are a strange mix of nationalities and social standing: a Russian princess, a Hungarian count and countess, a missionary from Sweden, businessmen from Italy and America, an American tourist, a British Colonel and a British valet, as well as a secretary, a governess, a German maid, and the French train conductor. They seem to have no connection, either with each other or the murdered man. But Poirot does not jump to conclusions. He quickly discovers Mr. Ratchett’s true identity and hypothesizes that at least one person on the train may have had good reason to want him dead.
The clues are as eclectic as the passengers and include a red kimono, a burned letter, a pipe cleaner, and a monogrammed handkerchief. Some of these are red herrings, false clues, which the murderer uses to lead Poirot astray. Of course, the Belgian detective discovers the culprit and, in classic style, gathers all the suspects together to reveal the murderer’s identity.
One of Christie’s most popular novels, Murder on the Orient Express referenced a real-life mystery: the kidnapping and murder of Charles Lindbergh’s child in 1932. As a testament to its continued popularity, the story has been adapted into a movie, television miniseries, comic book, and video game. Unfortunately, the real Orient Express did not share the same popularity; in 2009 the train route stopped operation.
Hercule Poirot finds himself the uninvited guest at the scene of an elaborately planned murder on wheels. The Belgian detective is making his way from Istanbul, Turkey, to London, and he is looking forward to a leisurely trip and a chance to clear his head, a chance to rest his “little grey cells,” as Poirot refers to his brain.
A good friend of Poirot, M. Bouc, is an administrator with Wagon Lit, the train company that operates the Orient Express. Poirot prefers to travel first class. Because it is winter, off season for tourists, the detective is assured by Bouc that finding a first-class cabin on the train will be easy. To their surprise, the car leaving Istanbul, the Calais Coach, is nearly full. There is, however, one no-show, and Poirot finds himself sharing a compartment with Hector MacQueen, the private secretary to a wealthy American, Mr. Ratchett.
Poirot is introduced by Bouc to Dr. Constantine, a Greek physician, traveling in the next car. On the first night of the journey, as they sit in the dining car, Bouc points out to Poirot the variety of travelers in the dining car: the rich and the poor. Some are English, some American, some French, some Italian, some Russian, some Hungarian—an array of passengers from differing socioeconomic backgrounds and different cultures. Where else in the world, Bouc wonders aloud, could one find such an assortment of people beneath one roof? Yes, Poirot thinks to himself, perhaps only in America.
The first night passes peacefully, and Bouc moves Poirot from his shared cabin with MacQueen to a private one next door to Ratchett. During the second night of the trip, Poirot has trouble sleeping,...
(The entire section is 1,777 words.)