GoodOldBaz

I reached Poirot’s cottage before I knew it and I went inside with a heavy heart. When I came through the door I heard Poirot calling out to me from the kitchen. I found him bustling about trying to teach the Countess how to cook one of his classic, and I regret to add, absolutely disgusting, Belgian dishes. He looked a bit flustered, but his fiancé seemed to be having a marvelous time. “Ah, mon ami Hastings!” he said with a smile. “You are just in time to assist us with the taste test!” I shied away immediately, not altogether eager to have to stomach something I knew would taste horrible and about which I

Part 1 There was a creaking sound and the door of the big blue box swung open. A tall, thin man in a brown suit came sauntering out, running his fingers through his ruffled brown hair. “Phew!” he sighed, turning round and giving the box a loving pat. “There you go, old girl, take a rest.” The man gave another sigh and swung around, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. He stopped suddenly, startled, at the sight of a man and his dog standing a few feet away – staring at him with wide eyes and open mouths. “Oh, hello,” he smiled. “You’re probably wondering –” “You&rsquo