Enter Hercule Poirot (Eric Fletcher, jolly), who arrives planning to track down a thief, but quickly pivots to uncovering a murderer. Suspects abound: Amory’s sister Caroline (Patricia M. Lawrence), his niece Barbara (Lexie Showalter), his son Richard (Jack Wooton), Richard’s Italian wife Lucia (Andrea Woodbridge), his secretary Edward Raynor (Will Ernest Adams), and Lucia’s old friend Dr. Carelli (Gabe DeRose), who had arrived unexpectedly and isn’t much liked.
In classic locked-room fashion, Poirot questions each of them one by one with the help of the well-meaning but somewhat hapless Captain Hastings (Andrew Accardi), who often pushes clues forward unwittingly as Inspector Japp (Brenda Bell) maintains order. Everyone in the house had the opportunity to murder the victim in one way or another, and the clues — a medicine kit left over from the war, the sound of silk ripping, a threatening letter, and a duplicate key — are an intriguing collection to work through mentally. As expected, Poirot succeeds in ferreting out the guilty from the innocent.
Unlike the great Belgian detective, this production doesn’t always operate with the same precision. Director Shino Frances does a fine job managing the large cast, but the overall tone often feels indecisive, and the acting choices range from over-the-top, such as Fee channeling Truman Capote in Murder by Death, to smartly stolid, as seen in the work of Wooton and Sue-Ellen Mandell, as the able housekeeper, Mrs. Treadwell.
It’s when the play embraces the fun of its old-fashioned murder-mystery roots that it flourishes. If everyone were to commit to leaning in more deeply to their character types — think of Angela Lansbury in Death on the Nile, Nicholas Clay in Evil Under the Sun, or Ingrid Bergman in Murder on the Orient Express — other weaknesses, including the sometimes rickety script, could be more easily overlooked.