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Sad Cypress: A Hercule Poirot Mystery: The Official Authorized Edition
Sad Cypress: A Hercule Poirot Mystery: The Official Authorized Edition
Sad Cypress: A Hercule Poirot Mystery: The Official Authorized Edition
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Sad Cypress: A Hercule Poirot Mystery: The Official Authorized Edition

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

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In Agatha Christie’s classic murder mystery Sad Cypress, a woman damned by overwhelming evidence stands accused of murdering her romantic rival, and only Hercule Poirot stands between her and the gallows.

Beautiful young Elinor Carlisle stood serenely in the dock, accused of the murder of Mary Gerrard, her rival in love. The evidence was damning: only Elinor had the motive, the opportunity, and the means to administer the fatal poison.

Yet, inside the hostile courtroom, only one man still presumed Elinor was innocent until proven guilty. Hercule Poirot was all that stood between Elinor and the gallows.…

LanguageEnglish
PublisherHarperCollins
Release dateMar 17, 2009
ISBN9780061753459
Author

Agatha Christie

Agatha Christie is known throughout the world as the Queen of Crime. Her books have sold over a billion copies in English with another billion in over 70 foreign languages. She is the most widely published author of all time and in any language, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. She is the author of 80 crime novels and short story collections, 20 plays, and six novels written under the name of Mary Westmacott.

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Rating: 3.6928470605890604 out of 5 stars
3.5/5

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  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Sad Cypress opens in a court scene at the trial of Elinor Carlisle for the murder of Mary Gerrard. In the dock Elinor starts to reflect on events which have led up to this moment and readers are taken back to when she received an anonymous letter suggesting that a young lady is ingratiating herself with Elinor’s bedridden Aunt Laura with the aim of being left the considerable fortune that Aunt Laura possesses. Elinor and her Aunt’s nephew by marriage, Roddy, to whom she has just become engaged leave London for Maidensford and find that Aunt Laura has become very fond of Mary Gerrard, the lodgekeeper’s daughter. Although they leave things unresolved for the moment a further stroke leads to another visit during which Aunt Laura dies. Activities involving the subsequent winding up of her estate ultimately lead to Mary Gerrard’s death and the arrest of Elinor for her murder. Hercule Poirot is called in by the village doctor, Peter Lord, who is somewhat smitten with Elinor and wants her acquitted.

    As usual with the best Christie tales the intricate plot is the standout feature of Sad Cypress. Although one always knows that the obvious answer cannot be the real solution everything points to Elinor’s guilt and I did wonder how Ms Christie (or M. Poirot) would work their way out of this particular corner. The resolution is clever and, at least by me, unexpected. The final portion of the book took readers back to the courtroom where the case for the defense is laid out and we see what Poirot made of all the odd little facts he has accumulated with his seemingly random conversations with all the players in the drama. I did find the ending a bit drawn out with several unnecessary repetitions of key information.

    I’m struck once again by the themes that recur in Christie’s work including her observations of how different classes of English society rub along together and her depiction of the damage that old family secrets can do. Although I sometimes find her characterisations a bit dated and stereotypical here she does an above average job of depicting interesting and believable people and Poirot seemed to be at his best: egotistical but not over the top.

    Finally, I’ll admit that though I alone think Peter Ustinov as the best Poirot (but only in Death on the Nile) I am myself smitten with David Suchet’s narration of Christie books. He makes reading them a delight (rating is 3.5)
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    The clues in this one are hidden well. A woman standing trial for murder seems to be the obvious, indeed the only possible killer. Maybe xer motives, mysterious pasts, and red herrings abound. Not the best Poirot, but certainly not the worst.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Isn't it Romantic?Apart from the novels she wrote under the pen name Mary Westmacott, Agatha Christie's 1940 mystery Sad Cypress may just be her most romantic book. It's the most unapologetically love-gushy of the 27 Christie mysteries I've read so far (which amounts to about one-third of her canon).Being the prim and proper product of the Victorian era that she was, Agatha usually kept her romantic subplots bound tighter than a laced-up corset. Yes, there was often a love interest in her mysteries, but she did her best to keep the hearts-and-roses stuff suppressed until the last chapter. Agatha once said, "I myself always found the love interest a terrible bore in detective stories. Love, I felt, belong to romantic stories. To force a love motif into what should be a scientific process went much against the grain."That may be true in most cases, but Sad Cypress finds the Grand Dame of Mysteries chafing against the grain throughout the book.Not that the romance trumps the mystery. Not by a long-shot. Those who are looking for murder, deceit and intrigue will find it in spades here in Sad Cypress. The plot revolves around an elderly dowager, Mrs. Welman who, contrary to her name, is not in the pink of health and suffers two strokes in the course of the book's early chapters.When they get an anonymous letter warning them that a girl in the household is "sucking up" to the widowed invalid and might prevent their chances of an inheritance, niece Elinor Carlisle and nephew Roddy Welman make a quick trip to the woman's estate. They have plans for the old lady's money and it involves their eventual marriage. You see, Elinor and Roddy are literally kissing cousins, having maintained a cool, detached love affair for quite some time. They're lovers, but their feelings for each other run deep under a cool surface.As always when she saw Roddy, Elinor was conscious of a slightly giddy feeling, a throb of sudden pleasure, a feeling that it was incumbent upon her to be very matter-of-fact and unemotional. Because it was so very obvious that Roddy, although he loved her, didn't feel about her the way she felt about him. The first sight of him did something to her, twisted her heart round so that it almost hurt. Absurd that a man—an ordinary, yes, a perfectly ordinary young man—should be able to do that to one! That the mere look of him should set the world spinning, that his voice should make you want—just a little—to cry…Love surely should be a pleasurable emotion—not something that hurt you by its intensity…This passage comes from Chapter One. Normally, Agatha would save something like this for Chapter Twenty-Eight—if, indeed, she included such heart-throbbing, light-headed language at all. This is the stuff of Norah Lofts or Barbara Cartland, not Agatha Christie. The mere presence of passages like that stands in sharp contrast to Hercule Poirot, who enters the scene after two of the characters have died (at the risk of spoiling your enjoyment of Sad Cypress, I won't reveal the victims).Romantic complications ensue after Elinor and Roddy arrive at Mrs. Welman's estate. We already know that Roddy is clinically detached in how he views their relationship:Elinor, he thought judicially, was really quite perfect. Nothing about her ever jarred or offended. She was delightful to look at, witty to talk to—altogether the most charming of companions.But then Mary comes into view.She is the young girl who is allegedly "sucking up" to old Mrs. Welman. Mary is the lodgekeeper's daughter and has gotten quite close to the ailing woman and, yes, there is the chance she could be written into the will.After receiving the anonymous letter and rushing to Mrs. Welman's bedside, Roddy is out wandering through the woods, thinking about the pleasant way in which Elinor never jars nor offends, when…suddenly…she appears:A girl came through the trees toward him—a girl with pale, gleaming hair and a rose-flushed skin.He thought, "How beautiful—how unutterably beautiful."Something gripped him; he stood quite still, as though frozen into immobility. The world, he felt, was spinning, was topsy-turvy, was suddenly and impossibly and gloriously crazy!And so, Agatha sets up a deliciously tense love triangle which eventually proves to be central to the novel's mystery plot. Here, she integrates and intertwines love and murder as she rarely has before.I notice that I've given scant mention to Monsieur Hercule Poirot. He's part of the love story, too. He's in love with himself—and supremely confident in his abilities to sort out all the pieces of the puzzle. Never fear—everything is easy to Hercule Poirot. This comes from the mouth of the Belgian himself. He will find the killer and the true lovers will eventually find each other by the close of the book.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This was the first Agatha Christie I’ve listened to with a courtroom portion. I thought it was quite good, and kept me guessing until the end. At the beginning, it’s really hard to believe that Elinor didn’t do it.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    AUTHOR: Christie, AgathaTITLE: Sad CypressDATE READ: 04/05/14RATING: 5/AGENRE/PUB DATE/PUBLISHER/# OF PGS: Mystery/1939/Putnam/271 pgs SERIES/STAND-ALONE: SATIME/PLACE: 1930's/UKCHARACTERS: Elinor Carlisle; Roderick Welman; Mary GerrardFIRST LINES: An anonymous letter! Elinor Carlisle stood looking down at it as it lay open in her hand. She'd never had such a thing before. It gave one an unpleasant sensation. Ill-written, badly spelled, on cheap pink paper. COMMENTS: Is there anyone better at the puzzle in mysteries? I have read Agatha Christie over the years. I think I read most years ago when I was in my 20's and still pick one up on occasion -- usually so many books so little time, I don't go back for re-reads-- I only get to one when chosen as a group read. And I am always glad to read a mystery by Agatha Christie -- they always hold my attention & I am always wondering who dunnit & usually have to wait until the final hour to be told who it is. I picked Sad Cypress because I had a copy I had gotten from library sale last year. Debated about giving it away/trading it but held on to it. At first I thought I had read this one recently because it had some similarities to The Crooked House I read 2+ years ago (in 2012) but then as I kept reading it became clear this was a different book. Not that I really remember all the details of Crooked House. In this book Elinor, Roderick & Mary knew each other as children. They have in common Aunt Laura -- Elinor's aunt, Roderick's aunt by marriage & Mary lived at the lodge nearby. Aunt Laura didn't have children & took a special interest in Mary so they grew up knowing each other. Now they are in their 20's. Elinor & Roddy are engaged and live in London. Mary has received an education thanks to Aunt Laura, altho' her father believes she is "moving beyond her station", and altho' is currently around to see to Aunt Laura while she is ill she is pondering what she shall do to support herself. Elinor & Roddy travel to the estate to visit Aunt Laura who takes a turn for the worse & dies rather suddenly. She died w/o leaving a will and since Elinor is the closest relative, she inherits. At the same time Roddy is fascinated w/ Mary and decides to break his engagment w/ Elinor. When Mary dies a month later, after having tea w/ Elinor -- almost everyone has presumed Elinor is accountable for the murder. However, there is one person who believes in Elinor, even if he is doubtful of her innocence & he calls in Hercule Poirot to ferret the facts from the lies.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This is a wonderful mystery by one of the greats. Elinor Carlisle is accused of killing Mary Gerrard because she will have to share an inheritance with her; or maybe because they are both in love with the same man. All evidence clearly indicates she is guilty and even when Hercule Poirot can see no hope based on what he sees, it takes some convincing by a doctor to have him look at the case.Slowly, he finds little lies being told by everyone including one about the real identity of the victim. Then there is the missing tube of morphine carelessly left unguarded by a nurse.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Usually Christie's books rate higher for me but Sad Cypress just didn't pull me in to the mystery as so many of her other ones have. I found myself having to reread passages and often looking for other books to read instead. The lengthy exposition of the crime which takes half of the book breaks the usual pacing of a Christie mystery and the book never seems to recover from it.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Here we have two Christie mysteries (Sad Cypress & Why Didn't They Ask Evans?), both written around the same time, both make use of telephones and license plates and both have similar poison by morphia murders. I thought both were, as expected, fine mysteries with interesting twists and turns. Neither are the absolute best of Agatha Christie but the contrast between the two highlights just how great of a character Hercule Poirot is. Why Didn't They Ask Evans? comes across as an afternoon movie plot with its cast of Bobby Jones and Lady Frances doing the solving (barely) and Sad Cypress has the magisterial air of Poirot to give it a fine luster.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    A somewhat atypical Poirot in that half the story happens before he is ever involved. The rest is quite typical - upper class central characters, village supporting cast, inheritance, mysterious personal stories. David Suchet's reading made this a very enjoyable listen.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Elinor Carlisle and her fiancé Roderick Welman travel to see their aunt, who is recovering from a stroke, after receiving an anonymous letter alerting them that their inheritance may be in danger. They meet with Mary Gerrard, a young woman and Aunt Laura's companion, and Roderick becomes infatuated with her, causing Elinor to call off the engagement. When Laura Welman dies intestate after suffering a second stroke, Elinor inherits her aunt's fortune. But then Mary dies suddenly and suspicion immediately falls on Elinor, and she is arrested and faces trial for murder. Hercule Poirot, at the request of Dr Lord, the family doctor, starts asking questions and soon discovers that several people have not been telling the truth about what has happened ...This book is unusual in several aspects: Poirot doesn't get involved until nearly halfway through the book, Elinor Carlisle is one of Agatha Christie's most complex heroines, and several clues are deliberately repressed by the author, even if the rest of the novel is pure Christie, and the mystery quite ingenious, though as ever quite unlikely. The reason I enjoy reading Agatha Christie's books is because I enjoy picking up on the clues left by the author and trying to guess the identity of the culprit before the big reveal; if clues aren't revealed then half the joy is gone. An entertaining read but one I'll probably not re-read.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Poirot tackles a courtroom battle.

    "Sad Cypress" is a fascinating Poirot story, combining the weight of Christie’s most mature works with her more ‘classic’ mystery structure.

    "Sad Cypress" is a complex but believable mystery, not quite as flashy as Poirot’s most famous works, but very skillfully put together. Coming off of her most prolific decade, Christie was an unstoppable force. Like the carefree, decadent characters who pervaded films in spite of the Depression, the War really did nothing to quash the appeal of Christie’s cruel worlds. Here, Poirot gets to be a champion for justice – always one of his strongest suits – with some convincing courtroom drama (practically unique to Christie’s oeuvre). Perhaps a classic.

    Poirot ranking: 13th out of 38.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    This is one of my favourite Christie's and in it she explores one of her favoourite plots, as some one. who might just be innocent is tried for murder. Elinor Carlisle is an interesting character, not necessarily likeable, but complex. The revelation of the murderer is a shock and is not revealed in Poirot's usual grandstanding manner.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    "Come away, come away, death,And in sad cypress let me be laid;Fly away, fly away, breath!I am slain by a fair cruel maid.My shroud of white, stuck all with yewO prepare it;My part of death no one so true;Did share it."Wm ShakespeareAnother innocent young lady charged with murder.Another crime solved by the magnificent Hercule Poirot.I am coming to love the Agatha Christies.I recommend this one as well and gave it 3 1/2 stars out of 5.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Poirot investigates the murder of a young woman. Another woman, the only person with the opportunity and motive to commit the crime, stands accused. This is one of the more complicated Christie plots with a lot of misdirection and twists - almost impossible to guess who did it.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Really good story but it wasn't really a Poirot novel, it opens and closes with the characters involved in the murder and Poirot makes but a passing appearance. The end revelation is rather spectacular I must say and I don't think anyone would guess at the method used. I liked Elinor a lot in this.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    One of Christie's best with a trial scene ending no less.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5

    I really enjoyed the differences in this book, as Poirot was blessedly absent for the most part. No matter how much I enjoy the mystery, sometimes I get tired of his pomposity...

    Elinor Carlisle stands accused of poisoning, Mary, a younger woman she had every reason to hate & be jealous of..... Mary, a working class girl, had been sent to Germany to be educated by Elinor's Aunt Laura. As Aunt Laura has had a stroke, Elinor receives an anonymous letter saying that Mary is buttering up Aunt Laura in hopes of gleaning her estate.

    Elinor & her fiance, Roddy Welman (Elinor's distant cousin) immediately visit Aunt Laura.... When Roddy sets eyes upon Mary, he is smitten and Elinor promptly calls off the engagement....

    Aunt Laura suffers a second stroke & begs Elinor to call for her solicitor so that she may make a will..... At this point: Elinor promises her Aunt that Mary shall be taken care of; a vial of Morphine goes missing; and Aunt Laura dies in her sleep intestate....

    Later, as Elinor cleans out her Aunt's mansion in preparation to sell it, she invites Mary (whom she has promised a goodly sum of 2,000 GBP) & Nurse Hopkins (Aunt Laura's nurse & Mary's mentor) to lunch..... While Elinor & Nurse are out of the room Mary succumbs to a deadly dose of morphine.....

    Elinor is arrested (as she was the one who made lunch), Aunt Laura is exhumed, and the good doctor Peter Lord (which I kept reading as "Lord Peter") call on M. Poirot to prove Elinor's innocence.

    There are several more lesser mysteries involved which come together nicely with the main story..... For Once I Figured out who the murderer was!
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Old Mrs. Welman doesn't have long to live, but she's surrounded by people who care for her- two nurses, a niece and nephew, a housekeeper and the young woman Mrs Welman put through school. When Mrs. Welman dies without having made a will, someone takes steps to ensure the money is theirs.This has much more emphasis on romantic relationships than most Christies, and Poirot doesn't pop his egg-shaped head in for nearly one hundred pages. Other than that, this one sits right in the middle for me.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away breath;I am slain by a fair cruel maid.My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,O, prepare it!My part of death, no one so trueDid share it.(Act II, Scene IV of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night)No. 21 in the Hercule Poirot series. Distant cousins Elinor Carlisle and Roddy Welman are engaged to be married when they receive an anonymous letter claiming that someone is 'sucking up' to their wealthy aunt, Laura Welman, putting their inheritance in jeopardy. Mary Gerrard, the lodgekeeper's daughter, has a close relationship with their aunt and is poisoned after Roddy in infatuated with her and calls off his engagement to Elinor. Poirot is persuaded to investigate the case, even though Elinor has already been arrested.
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    I read this instead of a contemporary mystery for book group. I think the culture has changed enough, as well as the literary expectations, that this book seemed very black and white and flat. I missed description as well as little subplots. I appreciate her skill with the plot, but I think if it was presented to an editor today, it wouldn't pass muster.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    England, ca 1960Ellinor Katharine Carlisle er anklaget for mord på Mary Gerrard. Baggrunden er at Ellinors tante, fru Welman, er død og har efterladt Ellinor alt. Uheldigvis har Ellinors forlovede, Roderick Welman, ved samme lejlighed fået øjne for Mary Gerrard, som er datter af portneren men er blevet taget under fru Welmans vinger og har fået en god opdragelse. Forlovelsen bliver ophævet, men Ellinor er ved at gå til over det. Huset bliver sat til salg og Mary dukker op for at tømme portnerboligen efter at hendes far er død. Under oprydningen opdager hun at portneren nok var hendes mors mand men ikke hendes far. Samme dag dør hun af forgiftning og Ellinor er den oplagte at mistænke. En sygeplejerske Søster Hopkins mistede en flaske morfin lige inden fru Welman døde og som følge af Marys død, bliver fru Welman også obduceret og hun viser sig også at være myrdet med morfin.Huslægen Peter Lord er forelsket i Ellinor og kontakter Hercule Poirot. Poirot snakker med alle involverede og opdager at de næsten allesammen lyver eller skjuler noget.Ellinor viser sig at være uskyldig, og Poirot får hende frikendt ved at finde den virkelige morder. Det viser sig at være Søster Hopkins, der i virkeligheden er søster til Marys mor, der faktisk blot er hendes adoptivmor. Mary var datter af fru Welman og motivet til begge mord var at få fingre i fru Welmans penge. Søster Hopkins viser sig at hedde Mary Riley og være fra New Zealand og formentlig har hun også stået bag nogle mistænkelig dødsfald der.Undervejs er der nogle sjove overvejelser om det at elske en anden for meget.Vældig spændende krimi
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I liked it, it's a nice easy read, and kept me guessing til the end.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    an unconventional telling of a poirot story, a fiendishly clever puzzle, and a master class in red herrings!
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This is a somewhat typical country house murder with a typical cast of characters – a wealthy invalid with stylish young relatives who live a bit above their means, a beautiful but penniless neighbor, a handsome young doctor, a couple of private duty nurses. There's also a love triangle (or is it a rectangle)? What's atypical for this series is that Poirot isn't called in until a trial is imminent. Since he wasn't at the scene of the crime, he has to rely more than ever on his little gray cells to sort out truth from falsehood as he interviews witnesses.I don't think this structure suits Poirot very well. There's too much distance between Poirot, the evidence, and the suspects. Since a lot of the evidence is presented in the courtroom, the reader doesn't get the benefit of Poirot's cryptic comments on the significance of some apparently trivial clue or bit of information. He has to save it all for his summing up. While this doesn't rank among Christie's best, in my opinion, it's still better than the best of many other mystery authors. Readers who already have a few Poirot novels under their belts might enjoy the change of pace.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Another great Poirot read with everything hanging on a scrap of paper and seemingly meaningless lie. A heroine falsely accused but apathetic because she has condemned herself morally. Clever and tragic.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    An Agatha Christie courtroom drama - this is the first book of hers I've read that takes place mainly in a courtroom. And there is NOT the usual dramatic scene where Poirot speaks to all the suspects and reveals the killer. That was a surprise. This is one of my favorites so far. Poirot is his usual self. There is a damsel in distress of course. But the plot has dramatic twists and complexities. I did have a hunch as to who the killer was, but did not know how or why. The love story is more developed than in other works, which I liked. The depth and complexity made me enjoy the story more and I could not put it down.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Until Poirot's late first appearance in the book, the latter played like a different story. I pretended that it was so. There were none of Poirot's "beloved" eccentricities. Not once did he talk in french. The entire story was a well imagined mystery with a somewhat nebulous solution. Since the denouement was not as explicit as the usual showdown, I didn't fully understand the details, but on the whole I've read what I believe to be a very satisfactory murder mystery. But why Sad Cypress?
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This wasn't great. Poirot didn't appear for ages and then a lot of the ground had to be covered over again for his benefit. Elinor was a hard heroine to root for - I don't think Christie made her 'love' for Roddy very believable, or any of her emotions actually. Still, the misdirection was excellent - I kept changing my mind about the identity of the murderer.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    I have only ever read a couple of Christie novels - although I used to watch the Poirot series with David Suchet and Miss Marple with Joan Hickson - and thought that the Read Christie 2023 challenge would be a good way to discover some more of her work. The 'official' choice for January is Sad Cypress, a Poirot murder mystery with good reviews, so I took the plunge.Now, I know that Agatha Christie wrote detective novels, obviously, but I didn't expect her characters - or the ones in this book, at least - to be paper thin clichés! I couldn't find an ounce of sympathy or interest for 'good girl' Mary, the victim, or stoic Elinor, the accused. And the writing has not aged well, either - Christie was certainly a fan of dragging the humble 'said' down with adverbs and then repeating herself to get the point across. For the first few chapters, before Poirot makes an appearance, I thought I was reading one of Christie's early novels because the phrasing was so clumsy.I agree. It’s the only civilized thing to do. You put animals out of their pain. I suppose you don’t do it with human beings simply because, human nature being what it is, people would get shoved off for their money by their fond relations—perhaps when they weren’t really bad at all.’The mystery, however, was very well done, which I suppose is the point! I thought more was going to be made of the euthanasia angle, which would have been interesting, but instead there's a rather Victorian case of 'natural' children and inheritance fraud (make sure to write a will, kids!) I picked up on the love child almost straight away but didn't identify the killer (apparently the least likely suspect in Christie's stories is usually whodunit). On a tangent, the characters brought to mind a negative version of Jane Austen's Emma, with Elinor as Emma, Roddy as Mr Knightley (apologies, Mr K) and insipid Mary as a mash-up of Jane Fairfax and Harriet Smith. I think my imagination needed a distraction to get through the 'dear old' middle class wartime narrative!A quick, fairly painless read, possibly not worth £3.99 on Kindle. Onto the next Christie mystery!
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    A return to Agatha Christie, that is always a delight. The title of the book emerges from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. Two deaths enter into Hercule Poirot’s investigating. An rich, elderly lady dies and no thought of murder enters the picture. But a second death which involves a young woman and foul play creeps into the picture. The young niece of Mrs. Welman, Elinor Carlisle, falls under the suspicion of murder. And frankly, Elinor appears to gain from the two deaths. Elinor narrates the first and last part of the novel, while Poirot plods through his narrative to Dr. Lord. The presentation of the story provides intrigue and vivid characters. From the first page, Elinor becomes my favorite character and I hope she will not fall prey to being chosen as the killer.

Book preview

Sad Cypress - Agatha Christie

Prologue

"Elinor Katharine Carlisle. You stand charged upon this indictment with the murder of Mary Gerrard upon the 27th of July last. Are you guilty or not guilty?"

Elinor Carlisle stood very straight, her head raised. It was a graceful head, the modelling of the bones sharp and well-defined. The eyes were a deep vivid blue, the hair black. The brows had been plucked to a faint thin line.

There was a silence—quite a noticeable silence.

Sir Edwin Bulmer, Counsel for the Defence, felt a thrill of dismay.

He thought:

My God, she’s going to plead guilty… She’s lost her nerve….

Elinor Carlisle’s lips parted. She said:

Not guilty.

Counsel for the Defence sank back. He passed a handkerchief over his brow, realizing that it had been a near shave.

Sir Samuel Attenbury was on his feet, outlining the case for the Crown.

May it please your lordship, gentlemen of the jury, on the 27th of July, at half past three in the afternoon, Mary Gerrard died at Hunterbury, Maidensford….

His voice ran on, sonorous and pleasing to the ear. It lulled Elinor almost into unconsciousness. From the simple and concise narrative, only an occasional phrase seeped through to her conscious mind.

"…case a peculiarly simple and straightforward one…

"…It is the duty of the Crown…prove motive and opportunity…

…No one, as far as can be seen, had any motive to kill this unfortunate girl, Mary Gerrard, except the accused. A young girl of a charming disposition—liked by everybody—without, one would have said, an enemy in the world….

Mary, Mary Gerrard! How far away it all seemed now. Not real any longer….

"…Your attention will be particularly directed to the following considerations:

1. What opportunities and means had the accused for administering poison?

2. What motive had she for so doing?

"It will be my duty to call before you witnesses who can help you to form a true conclusion on these matters….

"…As regards the poisoning of Mary Gerrard, I shall endeavour to show you that no one had any opportunity to commit this crime except the accused…."

Elinor felt as though imprisoned in a thick mist. Detached words came drifting through the fog.

"…Sandwiches…

"…Fish paste…

…Empty house…

The words stabbed through the thick enveloping blanket of Elinor’s thoughts—pin-pricks through a heavy muffling veil….

The court. Faces. Rows and rows of faces! One particular face with a big black moustache and shrewd eyes. Hercule Poirot, his head a little on one side, his eyes thoughtful, was watching her.

She thought: He’s trying to see just exactly why I did it… He’s trying to get inside my head to see what I thought—what I felt….

Felt…? A little blur—a slight sense of shock… Roddy’s face—his dear, dear face with its long nose, its sensitive mouth… Roddy! Always Roddy—always, ever since she could remember…since those days at Hunterbury amongst the raspberries and up in the warren and down by the brook. Roddy—Roddy—Roddy…

Other faces! Nurse O’Brien, her mouth slightly open, her freckled fresh face thrust forward. Nurse Hopkins looking smug—smug and implacable. Peter Lord’s face—Peter Lord—so kind, so sensible, so—so comforting! But looking now—what was it—lost? Yes—lost! Minding—minding all this frightfully! While she herself, the star performer, didn’t mind at all!

Here she was, quite calm and cold, standing in the dock, accused of murder. She was in court.

Something stirred; the folds of blanket round her brain lightened—became mere wraiths. In court!People

People leaning forward, their lips parted a little, their eyes agog, staring at her, Elinor, with a horrible ghoulish enjoyment—listening with a kind of slow, cruel relish to what that tall man with the Jewish nose was saying about her.

The facts in this case are extremely easy to follow and are not in dispute. I shall put them before you quite simply. From the very beginning…

Elinor thought:

"The beginning… The beginning? The day that horrible anonymous letter came! That was the beginning of it…."

PART I

One

An anonymous letter!

Elinor Carlisle stood looking down at it as it lay open in her hand. She’d never had such a thing before. It gave one an unpleasant sensation. Ill-written, badly spelt, on cheap pink paper.

This is to Warn You (it ran),

I’m naming no Names but there’s Someone sucking up to your Aunt and if you’re not kareful you’ll get Cut Out of Everything. Girls Are very Artful and Old Ladies is Soft when Young Ones suck up to Them and Flatter them What I say is You’d best come down and see for Yourself whats Going On its not right you and the Young Gentleman should be Done Out of What’s yours—and She’s Very Artful and the Old Lady might Pop off at any time.

Well-Wisher

Elinor was still staring at this missive, her plucked brows drawn together in distaste, when the door opened. The maid announced, Mr. Welman, and Roddy came in.

Roddy! As always when she saw Roddy, Elinor was conscious of a slightly giddy feeling, a throb of sudden pleasure, a feeling that it was incumbent upon her to be very matter-of-fact and unemotional. Because it was so very obvious that Roddy, although he loved her, didn’t feel about her the way she felt about him. The first sight of him did something to her, twisted her heart round so that it almost hurt. Absurd that a man—an ordinary, yes, a perfectly ordinary young man—should be able to do that to one! That the mere look of him should set the world spinning, that his voice should make you want—just a little—to cry… Love surely should be a pleasurable emotion—not something that hurt you by its intensity….

One thing was clear: one must be very, very careful to be offhand and casual about it all. Men didn’t like devotion and adoration. Certainly Roddy didn’t.

She said lightly:

Hallo, Roddy!

Roddy said:

Hallo, darling. You’re looking very tragic. Is it a bill?

Elinor shook her head.

Roddy said:

I thought it might be—midsummer, you know—when the fairies dance, and the accounts rendered come tripping along!

Elinor said:

It’s rather horrid. It’s an anonymous letter.

Roddy’s brows went up. His keen fastidious face stiffened and changed. He said—a sharp, disgusted exclamation:

No!

Elinor said again:

It’s rather horrid….

She moved a step towards her desk.

I’d better tear it up, I suppose.

She could have done that—she almost did—for Roddy and anonymous letters were two things that ought not to come together. She might have thrown it away and thought no more about it. He would not have stopped her. His fastidiousness was far more strongly developed than his curiosity.

But on impulse Elinor decided differently. She said:

Perhaps, though, you’d better read it first. Then we’ll burn it. It’s about Aunt Laura.

Roddy’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

Aunt Laura?

He took the letter, read it, gave a frown of distaste, and handed it back.

Yes, he said. Definitely to be burnt! How extraordinary people are!

Elinor said:

One of the servants, do you think?

I suppose so. He hesitated. I wonder who—who the person is—the one they mention?

Elinor said thoughtfully:

It must be Mary Gerrard, I think.

Roddy frowned in an effort of remembrance.

Mary Gerrard? Who’s she?

The daughter of the people at the lodge. You must remember her as a child? Aunt Laura was always fond of the girl, and took an interest in her. She paid for her schooling and for various extras—piano lessons and French and things.

Roddy said:

Oh, yes, I remember her now: scrawny kid, all legs and arms, with a lot of messy fair hair.

Elinor nodded.

"Yes, you probably haven’t seen her since those summer holidays when Mum and Dad were abroad. You’ve not been down at Hunterbury as often as I have, of course, and she’s been abroad au pair in Germany lately, but we used to rout her out and play with her when we were all kids."

What’s she like now? asked Roddy.

Elinor said:

She’s turned out very nice looking. Good manners and all that. As a result of her education, you’d never take her for old Gerrard’s daughter.

Gone all ladylike, has she?

Yes. I think, as a result of that, she doesn’t get on very well at the lodge. Mrs. Gerrard died some years ago, you know, and Mary and her father don’t get on. He jeers at her schooling and her ‘fine ways.’

Roddy said irritably:

People never dream what harm they may do by ‘educating’ someone! Often it’s cruelty, not kindness!

Elinor said:

"I suppose she is up at the house a good deal… She reads aloud to Aunt Laura, I know, since she had her stroke."

Roddy said:

Why can’t the nurse read to her?

Elinor said with a smile:

Nurse O’Brien’s got a brogue you can cut with a knife! I don’t wonder Aunt Laura prefers Mary.

Roddy walked rapidly and nervously up and down the room for a minute or two. Then he said:

You know, Elinor, I believe we ought to go down.

Elinor said with a slight recoil:

Because of this—?

"No, no—not at all. Oh, damn it all, one must be honest, yes! Foul as that communication is, there may be some truth behind it. I mean, the old girl is pretty ill—"

Yes, Roddy.

He looked at her with his charming smile—admitting the fallibility of human nature. He said:

"And the money does matter—to you and me, Elinor."

She admitted it quickly.

Oh, it does.

He said seriously:

It’s not that I’m mercenary. But, after all, Aunt Laura herself has said over and over again that you and I are her only family ties. You’re her own niece, her brother’s child, and I’m her husband’s nephew. She’s always given us to understand that at her death all she’s got would come to one or other—or more probably both—of us. And—and it’s a pretty large sum, Elinor.

Yes, said Elinor thoughtfully. It must be.

It’s no joke keeping up Hunterbury. He paused. Uncle Henry was what you’d call, I suppose, comfortably off when he met your Aunt Laura. But she was an heiress. She and your father were both left very wealthy. Pity your father speculated and lost most of his.

Elinor sighed.

Poor Father never had much business sense. He got very worried over things before he died.

Yes, your Aunt Laura had a much better head than he had. She married Uncle Henry and they bought Hunterbury, and she told me the other day that she’d been exceedingly lucky always in her investments. Practically nothing had slumped.

Uncle Henry left all he had to her when he died, didn’t he?

Roddy nodded.

"Yes, tragic his dying so soon. And she’s never married again. Faithful old bean. And she’s always been very good to us. She’s treated me as if I was her nephew by blood. If I’ve been in a hole she’s helped me out; luckily I haven’t done that too often!"

She’s been awfully generous to me, too, said Elinor gratefully.

Roddy nodded.

Aunt Laura, he said, is a brick. But, you know, Elinor, perhaps without meaning to do so, you and I live pretty extravagantly, considering what our means really are!

She said ruefully:

I suppose we do… Everything costs so much—clothes and one’s face—and just silly things like cinemas and cocktails—and even gramophone records!

Roddy said:

"Darling, you are one of the lilies of the field, aren’t you? You toil not, neither do you spin!"

Elinor said:

Do you think I ought to, Roddy?

He shook his head.

I like you as you are: delicate and aloof and ironical. I’d hate you to go all earnest. I’m only saying that if it weren’t for Aunt Laura you probably would be working at some grim job.

He went on:

The same with me. I’ve got a job, of sorts. Being with Lewis & Hume is not too arduous. It suits me. I preserve my self-respect by having a job; but—mark this—but I don’t worry about the future because of my expectations—from Aunt Laura.

Elinor said:

We sound rather like human leeches!

Nonsense! We’ve been given to understand that some day we shall have money—that’s all. Naturally, that fact influences our conduct.

Elinor said thoughtfully:

"Aunt Laura has never told us definitely just how she has left her money?"

Roddy said:

"That doesn’t matter! In all probability she’s divided it between us; but if that isn’t so—if she’s left all of it or most of it to you as her own flesh and blood—why, then, darling, I shall share in it, because I’m going to marry you—and if the old pet thinks the majority should go to me as the male representative of the Welmans, that’s still all right, because you’re marrying me."

He grinned at her affectionately. He said:

Lucky we happen to love each other. You do love me, don’t you, Elinor?

Yes.

She said it coldly, almost primly.

Yes! Roddy mimicked her. "You’re adorable, Elinor. That little air of yours—aloof—untouchable—la Princesse Lointaine. It’s that quality of yours that made me love you, I believe."

Elinor caught her breath. She said, Is it?

Yes. He frowned. "Some women are so—oh, I don’t know—so damned possessive—so—so doglike and devoted—their emotions slopping all over the place! I’d hate that. With you I never know—I’m never sure—any minute you might turn round in that cool, detached way of yours and say you’d changed your mind—quite coolly, like that—without batting an eyelash! You’re a fascinating creature, Elinor. You’re like a work of art—so—so—finished!"

He went on:

"You know, I think ours will be the perfect marriage… We both love each other enough and not too much. We’re good friends. We’ve got a lot of tastes in common. We know each other through and through. We’ve all the advantages of cousinship without the disadvantages of blood relationship. I shall never get tired of you, because you’re such an elusive creature. You may get tired of me, though. I’m such an ordinary sort of chap—"

Elinor shook her head. She said:

I shan’t get tired of you, Roddy—never.

My sweet!

He kissed her.

He said:

Aunt Laura has a pretty shrewd idea of how it is with us, I think, although we haven’t been down since we finally fixed it up. It rather gives us an excuse, doesn’t it, for going down?

Yes. I was thinking the other day—

Roddy finished the sentence for her:

—That we hadn’t been down as often as we might. I thought that, too. When she first had her stroke we went down almost every other weekend. And now it must be almost two months since we were there.

Elinor said:

We’d have gone if she’d asked for us—at once.

"Yes, of course. And we know that she likes Nurse O’Brien and is well looked after. All the same, perhaps we have been a bit slack. I’m talking now not from the money point of view—but the sheer human one."

Elinor nodded.

I know.

"So that filthy letter has done some good, after all! We’ll go down to protect our interests and because we’re fond of the old dear!"

He lit a match and set fire to the letter which he took from Elinor’s hand.

Wonder who wrote it? he said. Not that it matters… Someone who was ‘on our side,’ as we used to say when we were kids. Perhaps they’ve done us a good turn, too. Jim Partington’s mother went out to the Riviera to live, had a handsome young Italian doctor to attend her, became quite crazy about him and left him every penny she had. Jim and his sisters tried to upset the will, but couldn’t.

Elinor said:

Aunt Laura likes the new doctor who’s taken over Dr. Ransome’s practice—but not to that extent! Anyway, that horrid letter mentioned a girl. It must be Mary.

Roddy said:

We’ll go down and see for ourselves….

II

Nurse O’Brien rustled out of Mrs. Welman’s bedroom and into the bathroom. She said over her shoulder:

I’ll just pop the kettle on. You could do with a cup of tea before you go on, I’m sure, Nurse.

Nurse Hopkins said comfortably:

"Well, dear, I can always do with a cup of tea. I always say there’s nothing like a nice cup of tea—a strong cup!"

Nurse O’Brien said as she filled the kettle and lit the gas ring:

I’ve got everything here in this cupboard—teapot and cups and sugar—and Edna brings me up fresh milk twice a day. No need to be forever ringing bells. ’Tis a fine gas ring, this; boils a kettle in a flash.

Nurse O’Brien was a tall red-haired woman of thirty with flashing white teeth, a freckled face and an engaging smile. Her cheerfulness and vitality made her a favourite with her patients. Nurse Hopkins, the District Nurse who came every

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