The ABC Murders

A former Army officer of noble background, Hastings accompanies Poirot on several of his cases. As he is less intellectually adept than Poirot and serves as the archivist and author of their investigative narratives, Hastings bears some resemblance to Dr. John Watson, the faithful biographer of Sherlock Holmes. Hastings is middle aged at the time of the ABC murders, as he is increasingly sensitive about his thinning hair. Hastings is a generally shallow and flat character, with three enduring characteristics: a lack of sophistication, loyalty to Poirot, and a consistent interest in pretty women.

Hastings takes an instant dislike to Inspector Crome because he disregards Poirot’s expertise, but his lack of intellectual sophistication makes him a sometimes-inadequate defender. When Poirot notes that Betty Barnard’s belt is a key piece of evidence both Crome and Hastings take this more literally: Hastings suggests this shows “particular beastliness” (64), when Poirot indicates later that it indicates Betty knew her killer. Hastings is frequently impatient with Poirot’s intellectual process, and even interprets his lack of action as Poirot being “sensitive to his failure” (55). In reality, Poirot is merely waiting for more data—the second letter to confirm that the murderer has a larger plan. Hastings serves as a kind of stand-in for the reader, who also must gather surface details and cannot know what Poirot knows.

Hastings’s interest in women has some bearing upon the plot; he is innately sympathetic to Thora Grey and struck by Megan Barnard’s manners and appearance. He notes Thora Grey’s courage in coming forward about Lady Clarke firing her, repeating that she is a “lovely girl” (147). Poirot considers him taken in by Thora’s looks and naive for missing her more mercenary motivations. Though he is married at this point in the series, neither Hastings nor Poirot regard this interest as troubling. Age and the passage of time are a key theme of the work, but Hastings is a static character, unaltered by his adventures and no wiser for his mistakes. This reinforces that his function is as an assistant to Poirot—the reader follows his journey only when the two characters interact.

Many of the third-person point of view sections of the novel are told from Cust’s perspective. He is a shy, awkward man of no social distinction, working as a door-to-door salesperson selling stockings. For some of the work, the reader does not know precisely why Cust’s activities are of interest—except, of course, that he is in the relevant cities and has the same initials the killer signs his notes with. Christie implies Cust is the killer by describing his attempts to conceal his travels, informing his landlady that he is going to Cheltenham rather than Doncaster.

Once he is apprehended, the police are confident that Cust is the killer, but Poirot is certain his personality does not fit the author of the letters—which Cust also denies writing. Cust reveals he feels deeply persecuted, as only a “gigantic conspiracy” can explain his arrest (236). He describes himself as “timid—afraid of people” and unable to live up to his mother’s grand expectations of him (236). While he is certain his sensation of having lost time—a symptom of his epilepsy—means he must have committed the murders, he cannot explain what his motivation could be (241). Poirot regards Cust as an innocent victim and soon proves that Franklin Clarke set up Cust’s job so that someone else could be arrested for his crimes. When the novel closes, Cust is free and contemplating a new start owing to his fame for his role in the case. Cust serves as a reminder that crimes can have many victims, particularly when ambitious men like Franklin Clarke seek to act with impunity.

The first victim in the case, Alice Ascher is an object of pity for Poirot and Hastings. An older woman who worked as a domestic servant before opening a tobacco shop, she is described as having a “wrinkled old face with the scanty grey hair drawn back tightly from the temples. It looked so peaceful, so incredibly remote from violence” (25). Her niece, Mary Drower, remembers her as kind and also spirited, unafraid to speak back to her alcoholic husband, as “he was afraid of her, if you like” (29). Investigating her lodgings sparks pity in Hastings and Poirot, as they are reminded of her past beauty and her current meager circumstances. Poirot and Hastings make note of “a pair of new stockings”—a clue for the reader to recall later as proof Cust was in Andover (37). Ascher’s death is soon eclipsed by the drama of the subsequent cases and Cust’s arrest—perhaps reflecting her position as a working-class victim.

The second victim in the case, Betty was a young waitress in the tourist town of Bexhill-on-Sea. Her sister Megan describes her as an “unmitigated little ass” (78), preoccupied with flirtations, entertainment, and clothing. She had a habit of lying to her fiancé about her relationships with other men, and did so about her relationship with Franklin Clarke, who pretended to be a “married man” (83). Poirot dwells in rather more detail on the manner of her death—her intimate relationship with her killer—and assures Donald Fraser he will be much happier with Megan than he would have been with Betty. Perhaps Christie intends her as a cautionary tale compared to the happier domestic arrangements of other couples in the novel.

Betty Barnard’s sister, Megan is unlike Betty in nearly every way. Dark haired, strong willed, and intellectually sophisticated, Poirot declares her “intelligent”—a compliment he does not bestow on anyone else in the case (79). Hastings describes her “queer, modern angularity that was not, somehow, unattractive”—her sister was blonde with more conventional looks (76). Megan is instantly surprised Poirot is on the case, and only tells him about Donald Fraser’s temper once he has explained that the killer was almost certainly the author of his anonymous letters.

Megan remains an astute observer. She interrupts Poirot’s monologue to note that it is “just words” (135), and Poirot remarks that “everyone else was taken in” (144). Megan, unlike almost anyone else in the narrative, sees Poirot’s strategies clearly. When he asks each of the family members a question, Megan informs him forthrightly that she does not want him to solve the case. This is because Cust has an alibi for Betty’s death, and Megan still fears for Donald, who she has feelings for. Donald returns her affections, and the two become a couple.

Betty Barnard’s romantic partner, Donald Fraser is described as a “well-made, fine looking young fellow […] with a pleasant, freckled face, high cheekbones and flaming red hair” (86). He is shy but immediately becomes “convulsed by sudden passion” when he remembers his jealousy over Betty seeing other men (87). He reports trying to follow Betty the night she died, and Hastings is struck by his “misery and anger” (89). Fraser, then, functions as an early suspect, and as proof to Poirot that the killer is taking credit for crimes that others might have been arrested for.

In torment, Fraser later turns to Poirot as he is haunted by dreams of strangling Megan on a beach. Poirot does not explain his dream at the time, but later he tells Fraser he dream arises from feelings of guilt over replacing one sister with another but that he should rejoice in his new opportunity for happiness with someone more suitable (264). Fraser functions as a player in what Poirot calls the “human drama” within the case (144).

The third victim in the case, and the most socially prominent, Sir Carmichael was a renowned doctor and a collector of Chinese art and artifacts. He is described as “very worried and upset” about the imminent loss of his wife, as they were happily married (149). He spoke warmly of his secretary, Thora Grey, who helped him manage his art collections. This relationship ultimately led to his death, as Franklin became “seriously alarmed for the future” when he realized his brother might remarry and have children. Carmichael Clarke’s wealth, not a persecution complex or an obsession with the alphabet, is what drives Franklin to his murderous plotting.

The widow of Sir Carmichael Clarke, who is dying of cancer. Though her mental state is somewhat altered by her pain medication, Lady Clarke remains a sharp observer of the social dynamics within her family. Though she is “painfully thin, and her face had the grey haggard look of one who suffers much pain” (151), she gives Poirot strong opinions about Thora Grey and her brother-in-law Franklin. She calls her brother-in-law foolish and notes that he is like most men who “remain boys” (152). Lady Clarke dismisses the idea that Thora Grey is brave and explains that she fired her to prevent Franklin “getting mixed up with her” (153). She further explains that she saw Thora talking to “a shabby sort of person” on the day of the murder (154). Thus, Lady Clarke provides the first clue to Cust and makes note of Thora Grey’s social ambitions toward her husband and Franklin. She, in effect, sees some of what Poirot will determine most important: his motive, and his use of a decoy. Poirot notes that he feels charitable towards Charlotte, which contrasts with Hastings’s innate sympathy for Thora.

Franklin is Carmichael Clarke’s younger brother. Hastings is immediately struck by his “resolute manner of a man accustomed to dealing with emergencies” (109). Franklin expresses skepticism about the police investigation, declaring, “M. Poirot’s the man for my money” (117). This, together with his decision to form a “special legion of the friends and relatives of the murdered people” reveals his mind for subterfuge and scheming: he gets close to the investigation and presents himself as an admirer of Poirot, showing none of the animus of the letters. He shows “sympathy” to Megan Barnard over their shared grief, pretending to feel what he does not (140). He does betray some of the triumph he feels when he indicates to Crome that the horse race will make some of the investigation at Doncaster more difficult, calling it “easy to see” Crome does not follow sports (162). He resembles a “shy schoolboy” when Thora Grey is mentioned, which arouses Poirot’s suspicions about her motives (133).

When he is unmasked as the killer, Franklin attempts to die by suicide and is enraged to discover Poirot has thwarted this plan by removing the bullets from his gun. This behavior, along with his anger, confirms Poirot’s fundamental analysis of his character: for all his calculation and strategy, he is impetuous and immature. Significantly, his motive winds up being simple and straightforward—he concocted an elaborate plan to disguise his own greed and resentment.

Sir Carmichael Clarke’s secretary, Thora Grey is also the first person Poirot learns about who came into contact with Cust while making his stocking sales. Hastings is struck by her “extraordinary Scandinavian fairness” (113), while Poirot is more attuned to her social ambitions. He notes to Hastings that Thora disclosed her estrangement with Lady Clarke less out of moral feeling and more as a strategy. Poirot’s sense that she may have romantic designs on Franklin is borne out at various points in the narrative, as when she speaks “sharply” at the idea he should flirt with one of Betty Barnard’s coworkers (141). She is irritated with Poirot for asking her if she would have married Carmichael Clarke and declares herself “insulted” when Poirot reminds her that Franklin’s arrest is the end of her social ambitions (265).

Alice Ascher’s niece, Mary Drower is a domestic servant at a country estate near her aunt. She calls her aunt’s husband an “old devil” (30),and she was deeply attached to her only living relative. She senses that her aunt’s death may be particularly out of the ordinary, asking Poirot if anything “queer” is behind it (31). She shows a similar intuition later, informing Poirot that she is in London and wishes to collaborate with the family members of the other victims. Her sincerity and emotion add depth to the narrative, though Christie spends more time on the plight of the Barnard family.

A psychiatrist in the police department, Thompson is brought in to consult on the case. He is generally more respectful of Poirot than Inspector Crome, and Hastings reports that he “contented himself with homely language” (57) rather than professional jargon. Thompson seeks out Poirot’s opinion and cites his long experience with killers (94). He and Poirot also discuss the larger problems of the case, such as how and why the victims were selected. Thompson, to a degree, serves as a sounding board for Poirot closer to his own level. At the same time, his psychological profiling of the killer—who he assumes to be Cust—is not what solves the crime.

Poirot’s longtime friend who frequently brings him cases, Japp is a working-class man who is ready to tease Poirot and Hastings. He upsets Hastings’s vanity by pointing out his possible baldness and suggests to Poirot that rather than retire he could “end by detecting your own death” (10). He also visits Poirot to keep him abreast of the case against Cust. A private detective sometimes needs allies and finds loyal supporters in the police force. Japp represents this archetype in this work and helps provides continuity with the rest of the Poirot novels.