Ok, I have issues with this. A lot of issues.
Poirot is not Poirot. Poirot is particular, a pedant, a bit pompous. Sure. But he's also full of warmth and humor. The Poirot in this book....is like a sad version with an added superiority complex. :(
Worse....some of the plot elements make no sense. Why would Poirot take up lodgings in a guest house from where he can see his own flat overlooking the park? And this for a holiday!?!?! It just makes no sense.
What is worse in this love child of Monk and The Silence of the Lambs is that idiotic, utterly incompetent wimp that we are supposed to believe is a detective of Scotland Yard.
I kind of hope my suspicions about Catchpool come true. That or that Poirot is going to shove him under a bus.
It really does not help that the book is basically told from Catchpool's POV.