From seat No. 9, Hercule Poirot was ideally placed to observe his fellow air
passengers. Over to his right sat a pretty young woman, clearly infatuated with the man opposite; ahead, in seat No. 13, sat a Countess with a poorly-concealed cocaine habit; across the gangway in seat No.8, a detective writer was being troubled by an aggressive wasp.

What Poirot did not yet realise was that behind him, in seat No. 2, sat the slumped,
lifeless body of a woman...

“It will be a very acute reader who does not receive a complete surprise at the end.” Times Literary Supplement