A Poirot parody for Captain Hastings fans everywhere
“I am very sorry but you have to understand – I just don’t trust the police!”
A fresh wave of sobbing preceded this querulous outburst from the rather plain young woman sprawled in an armchair, dabbing ineffectually at her eyes with an already sodden handkerchief.
“Please calm yourself, mademoiselle, I can assure you that I am very much not the police.”
Hercule Poirot leant towards the woman, offering her his own embroidered silk handkerchief with a flourish of a gloved hand, a kindly smile glinting beneath his immaculately presented moustache. The portly Belgian had the most disarming manner about him that rendered displays of hysteria useless in his presence – but the particular thing that the woman would always remember about the time she met the famous Hercule Poirot, was how utterly wonderful he smelt.
The woman was the assistant of…
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