(NB: If I was a village police inspector, and this nosy parker thrust her umbrella in my face and demanded I listen while she explained the curious behavior of her fishmonger’s niece, I would have her escorted out of town and head to the movies.) (A few others start there and quickly move away.) Miss Marple is lucky to have anyone pay attention to her, even if she does have a letter from Sir Henry Clithering stuffed in her reticule. Yet only two of the dozen Miss Marple novels take place fully in St. Mary Mead, it might make sense for the police, long familiar with the efficacy of her homespun sleuthing methods, to accept her benevolent assistance in the cause of justice. If all her cases took place in her home village of St. Put purely and simply, she is a buttinsky.

Thankfully, fictional murderers never think like that!) (NB: If I wanted to commit a murder and discovered that Poirot was in the house, I would burn the blowgun in the fireplace and head to the movies. Sometimes a murder occurs while he is on vacation or (briefly) retired, and then he is consulted – again, a turn of events that makes some sense, even if the concept of a character attracting murder wherever he goes is purely fictional.

Once a policeman himself, his relationship with the local gendarmes is usually an affable one. (They never change.) Poirot is a professional, so it makes sense for him to be on the scene. As a character, Poirot is the more clear cut of the two: a consulting detective through and through, the skills of his trades shaded with specific quirks and foibles – his vanity, his OCD, his love of food – that never change. The thirty-three books and fifty short stories featuring Hercule Poirot are more tightly plotted and conform to the established patterns of “fair play” detective fiction: present your case, strew it with clues, misdirect to your heart’s content, and unveil your solution. a Miss Marple story is appealing in different ways. Live with it!) Similarly, in the raging competition between Poirot and Marple, I exercise my right not to choose. The mystery equivalent of the question, “Are you a dog person or a cat person?” is “Do you fancy Poirot or Miss Marple?” (Well, actually, it’s “Classic detection or hardboiled?” but that’s not where we’re going today.) I’m a cat person because I live with cats and love the ones I live with, but I’d hook up with a dog in a second if circumstances allowed! (That’s right: I am a pet slut.

Nemesis by Agatha Christie