A 100-word, six-sentence mystery with apologies to Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot.

The Scales Fall

“That one, she has had too much happiness, mon ami,” Poirot said, “it is time for the other foot to drop, n’est-ce pas?!”
“Can one have too much?!” I cried.
“Mais non, Hastings, you see her there perched like a bird, but I ….”
Springing into a blur of action, Poirot tackled a passerby greeting her, extracting the poisoned dart between his fingers.
“I sense the balance of scales, the moment of the tipping,” Poirot said, panting, “and me, I was there to save her!”
But I always wondered, had the great Belgian detective planted evidence to make his case?

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