I knew I oughtn’t to say vulgar things, but it made me feel better somehow. If Poirot had been English, I probably would have made a greater effort to keep myself in check.

“And did it occur to Monsieur Lazzari that one of his still-living guests might be a murderer? Non. It did not. Any person who chooses to stay at the Bloxham Hotel must have a character of the utmost virtue and integrity!”

I coughed and inclined my head toward the door. Poirot turned. Lazzari had let himself into the room and was standing in the doorway. He could hardly have looked happier. “So true, so true, Monsieur Poirot,” he said.

“Every single person who was in this hotel on Thursday must speak to Mr. Catchpool and account for their movements,” Poirot told him sternly. “Every guest, everyone who was here to work. All of them.”

“With the greatest pleasure, you may speak to whomsoever you wish, Mr. Catchpool.” Lazzari bowed in deference. “And our dining room will soon be at your disposal, once we have cleared away the breakfast—ah, how do you say?—paraphernalia, and gathered everybody together.”

“Merci. Meanwhile, I will conduct a thorough examination of the three rooms,” said Poirot. This came as a surprise to me. I thought that was what we had just done. “Catchpool, find out the addresses of Harriet Sippel, Ida Gransbury and Richard Negus. Find out who in the hotel took their reservations, what food and drinks they each requested to be delivered to their rooms, and when. And from whom.”

I started to edge toward the door, fearing that Poirot would never stop dreaming up more tasks to add to the list.

He called after me, “Find out if anyone by the name of Jennie is staying in the hotel, or working here.”

“There is not a Jennie employed at the Bloxham, Monsieur Poirot,” said Lazzari. “Instead of asking Mr. Catchpool you should ask me. Everybody here is well known to me. We are a very large happy family here at the Bloxham Hotel!”

4. The Frame Widens

The Frame Widens

SOMETIMES, REMEMBERING SOMETHING A person said months or even years ago still makes you chuckle, and this, for me, is true of what Poirot said to me at some point later on that day: “It is hard for even the most ingenious detective to know what to do if his desire is to be free of Signor Lazzari. If one’s praise of his hotel is insufficient, he stays by one’s side and supplements it with his own; if one’s praise is fulsome and lengthy, he stays to listen.”

Poirot’s efforts were eventually successful, and he finally managed to persuade Lazzari to leave him to his own devices in Room 238. He walked over to the door that the hotel manager had left open, closed it, and sighed with relief. How much easier it was to think clearly when there was no babble of voices.