Murder by Mail: Science to the Rescue!

Chapter 4: Dr. Edmond Locard vs. Tiger’s Eye

Whilst an amateur such as Miss Marple can gather evidence from wherever she chooses, including the dreams of Jerry Burton, even she knows such hazy evidence won’t hold water in court. Hence she, along with Megan Hunter and the police, engineered a sting operation to catch Mrs. Symmington’s killer red-handed. 

Now if an amateur sleuth, albeit a gifted one, knows the musings of one’s subconscious won’t satisfy the court, then why on earth did Magistrate Richard think hiring a sorcerer, a hypnotist, and a medium was a good idea? Especially since, just ten years earlier, France’s first forensics laboratory was founded in Lyon. Needless to say, after the papers gleefully reported Magistrate Richard’s unorthodox investigative methods, he was summoned before his superiors to explain.

As this internal brouhaha played out in the press, a priest visited Angele Laval and her mother. At some point during his visit, he spied a half-finished letter sitting on a table. Familiar with Tiger’s Eye style, as he’d received at least one cankerous communique himself, he took this observation to the prefecture. Keen on ending the whole nasty affair, Commissioner Walter (who I think is the head of Tulle’s prefecture) confronted Angele with this information and attempted to cajole a confession from her — without success.

Meanwhile, as the case stalled due to Magistrate Richard’s absence, the great and the good of Tulle took matters into their own hands.

Contributing money to a fund, they hired the best forensics expert in France and the founder of the aforementioned forensics laboratory, Dr. Edmond Locard. (Whose principle is still used today — every contact leaves a trace.) Dr. Locard, at this point in his career, showed considerable enthusiasm for graphology — the study and interpretation of handwriting to build a psychological portrait of the writer. (Not to be confused with Questioned Document Examination, which focuses solely on the words on the page.) Interestingly, after his employment was secured, Dr. Locard found himself on the receiving end of about twenty anonymous letters accusing one person or another in Tulle of being Tiger’s Eye and one purportedly from Tiger’s Eye themselves asking if he could arrive in Tulle on any other day than Sunday, as they’d made plans. 

Dr. Locard

With Dr. Locard’s recruitment, things were about to go south for Angele.

As it happens, modern experts agree with their fictional counterpart in The Moving Finger, “I can tell you gentlemen, I’d like to see something new sometimes, instead of the same old treadmill.” (pg. 88) It seems poison pen writers invariably employ the same tired mechanisms to disguise their handwriting: using all capital letters, writing with their off-hand, changing the slant or size of words, misshaped or deformed letters, employing different writing instruments within the same letter, altering how they dot their ‘i’ and cross their ’t’, pretending to be illiterate, or using cut out letters from magazines/books.

These techniques can successfully camouflage one’s handwriting, provided the author keeps their malice tinged missives short and sweet — so to speak. However, as a poison pen writer sinks further and further into their addiction, brevity generally isn’t within their reach.

Examples of Tulle’s Poison Pen Letters

Just look at Angele’s letters, overflowing margins, cramped lines — even the postcards are covered on both sides with words. Clearly illustrating what experts already know: poison pen writers are their own worst enemy. The longer the letter, the more likely it is that a lifetime of handwriting habits will start creeping onto the page — and — the longer they remain unnamed, the more confident they become, the more letters they send. Substantially increasing the odds, they’ll leave telltale signs of themselves somewhere in the script for an expert (and occasionally a motivated amateur) to find.

And let me tell you, Dr. Locard was given more than enough material to work with.

On January 16, 1922, after analyzing all the known letters, Dr. Locard summoned eight women to Tulle’s courthouse. Amongst the octette, all of whom were related to men present at the prefecture’s secret meeting, were Marie-Antoinette, Angele Laval, Angele’s Mother, Auntie, and Sister-in-Law.

Dr. Locard’s plan was simple. 

First, he dictated select words and passages from Tiger’s Eyes letters while instructing the women to write them with both their dominant and off-hand. Then, after finishing these specimens, Dr. Locard asked the all female assembly to write four pages of capital letters. Although accounts vary slightly on how this writing exhibition went down, they all agree that during Dr. Locard’s initial short passage dictation, Angele didn’t falter. However, when asked to pen four pages of capital letters? Angele’s facade cracked, and it took her twelve minutes to write one line. Dr. Locard, a trained forensic scientist and keen observer, watched Angele repeatedly go over the string of letters, adjusting, augmenting, and adding little flourishes to her original hand. 

Needless to say, Dr. Locard found this behavior highly suspicious. 

Again it’s unclear if Dr. Locard let Angele go after finishing her lines and recalled her to the courthouse later that same day or whether he kept her behind at the end of the session — either way, the results are the same. Dr. Locard, determined to secure a genuine sample of Angele’s handwriting, relentlessly dictated the same passages at her over and over again. He purposely upset her by intermittently berating, shouting, and generally getting in her face. For hours he pushed her to write faster and faster, all the while ignoring her protestations of innocence, bouts of weeping, and occasional fainting spells. Eventually, by dint of sheer exhaustion, Dr. Locard procured several sheets of Angele’s genuine hand —thereby stripping her protective layer of anonymity away.

My 52 Weeks With Christie: A.Miner©2023

Murder by Mail: Catch Me if You Can

Chapter 2: Addiction & Expansion

Robbed of her rose-colored dreams and furious her rival managed to get Mouray to the alter, despite her best efforts, you’d think Angele would set aside her stationary. But here’s the thing: Poison Pen Letters can become addictive to the sender. Every close call, near miss, and narrow escape from someone catching them in the act and possibly unmasking their identity is an adrenaline rush. Then there’s the pure exhilaration of owning a secret. The thrill of saying all the mean-spirited, vindictive, and spiteful things to people who’ve, in your eyes, slighted you. Not to mention the pleasure of watching your victim/victims react to your words and knowing you hold the power to destroy their happiness — should you choose.

This explains why this type of malevolent missive rarely ends with only a single letter being sent.

Even worse, for both sender and receiver, this addiction (like any other) starts requiring bigger and bigger hits in order to recreate the same rush the writer felt upon delivering their very first venomous letter. And this is where The Moving Finger and Angele’s case diverge. Our fictional malefactor either never got hooked on sending poison pen letters in the first place. Or, more likely, due to their definite endgame and the fact Miss Marple engineered their capture prior to the Black Hat reaching their last pre-written poisonous note, Christie’s bad guy never faced the decision of continuing their caustic campaign or stopping cold turkey. Hence, unlike Angele, they never need to adapt their strategy to avoid detection or feel the need to feed the monkey on their back. 

All of which possibly explains why Angele decided to double down rather than quit while she was ahead. 

The Prefecture of Tulle.

No longer satisfied with tormenting just the prefecture, Angele expanded her toxic campaign to include any man, woman, or child living within the borders of Tulle. And unlike Agatha Christie’s fictional ne’er-do-well in The Moving Finger, whose evil epistles failed to contain even the smallest kernel of truth. (According to the Vicar’s wife, who knew more than her fair share of Lymstock’s salacious secrets.) Angele raked up every scandal, revealed every overheard family secret, and repeated every morsel of gossip she came across — and through sheer volume, managed to sprinkle just enough truth amongst the lies contained in the lines of her noxious notes that shadows of doubt proliferated within the minds of Tulle.

The townsfolk, now aware en masse of the existence of a poison pen, unsurprisingly began casting sidelong glances at each other. This wholesale loss of trust translated into a mass cancellation of social engagements, entertainment, and gatherings across the city. The only upside? The lack of dances, dinners, and friendly chats over tea gave people more than enough spare time to monitor the post office’s mailboxes.

And what’s a girl to do when 13,000 pairs of unblinking eyes are dying to catch you red-handed at the public letterbox?

Angele simply stopped using them. 

Opting for the direct approach, she began leaving her malignant messages on her victim’s windowsills, doorsteps, on church pews, and within the confessional. She shoved them through letter slots, dropped them on sidewalks, apartment hallways, and office corridors. For an extra surge of excitement, Angele would occasionally slip one of her splenetic letters into someone’s shopping basket while they did their marketing. Whilst this change in delivery method removed the postman from the list of least-liked people in Tulle — by leaving no haven safe from her vicious attacks Angele, through either careful planning or pure happenstance, successfully managed to foster a state of mass anxiety. 

Can you imagine Angele’s dark delight when walking down deserted streets, past nearly empty taverns, and through the all-but-abandoned town square — which, only a few months prior, positively bustled with activity?

This wholesale avoidance of other people (which in some households included your spouse, older children, siblings, parents, or in-laws — depending on what despicable rumor you’d read about them or they you) might’ve ground the corrosive campaign to a halt. However, people still needed to work, children still required schooling, and larders filling…Meaning there was still a bit of foot traffic, and by tapping her evil genius gene, Angele found a way of exploiting those few brave souls who ventured outdoors — by creating a variation on a chain letter.

For example: Angele would address and leave a noxious note for Mr. X to find. Upon reading the obscenity ladened piece of paper, Mr. X would discover the contents actually concerned a Mr. Z — to whom the note would instruct Mr. X to deliver it too. Thereby giving her slanders a chance of spreading, with the added bonus of possibly causing an awkward conversation between two people and potentially straining a friendship, professional relationship, or marriage in the process. 

Speaking of marriage.

Despite her busy schedule of tormenting an entire town, Angele never forgot her roots. 

Again it’s unclear if, in Angele’s heart of hearts, hoped Mouray would abandon his newly minted marriage to Marie-Antoinette for her or if she wanted to punish her perceived rival Marie-Antoinette for stealing her chance at happiness and Mouray for not loving her.* Either way, Angele cleverly found a way to ratchet the pressure on the couple into the stratosphere — by singing the praises of the happy couple in the majority of her despicable epistles.

Despite the fact this style of harassment was considered the domain of sexually repressed spinsters (by newspapers, experts, and authors alike), these anomalous complements eventually led the stressed-out populace of Tulle to draw the same conclusion — that Marie-Antoinette must be the author of their misery. 

However, because French law did not consider it a crime to write or send poison pen letters, the prefecture couldn’t legally do anything about it. Especially since no one ever witnessed Marie-Antoinette placing, dropping, or leaving a bilious letter anywhere around town. So the court of public opinion sentenced her to ugly confrontations, muttered epithets, and general ostracization.

A punishment that might have become permanent had Angele’s addiction not spiraled out of control.

*(BTW: Mouray, at this point, had nullified Angele’s most effective weapon against him — by not only publicly acknowledging his illegitimate child and providing for them. He also broke things off with his mistress before marrying Marie-Antoinette.)

My 52 Weeks With Christie: A.Miner©2023

Murder by Mail: Art Imitating Life

Chapter 1: The Moving Finger & A Real Life Poison Pen Case

Recently I found myself stuck in a mental fog bank with an overwhelming urge to read something more involved than the instructions on a jug of laundry detergent. So I turned to my bookshelves for help. Knowing from past experiences that new stories are a no-go, I ran my finger along the spines until my eyes and index digit landed on The Moving Finger. At which point my brain sat up and bellowed YAHTZEE! Not a new read, but one I hadn’t cracked the covers of since 2014. 

Stoked, I sat down and devoured it whole. 

Discovering, much to my surprise, my perspective on this classic mystery shifted since I’d last read it nine years ago. (Amusingly, I’d also forgotten the malefactor’s identity and was fooled all over again by the Grand Dame of Misdirection.) Rather than impatiently waiting for Miss Marple’s entrance from stage left or touching the cherished memory of howling with laughter at Victor Borge’s bit on inflationary language with my grandfather in the basement of his house one summer afternoon — my mind caught on the McGuffin of The Moving Finger: the poison pen letters. 

Since the villain in The Moving Finger used these letters to mask his true intent, which didn’t seem to fit with what I knew of the phenomenon, it made me wonder what actually drives a true poison pen writer to pick up their quill, so to speak.* Moreover, I wondered why the police and residents of Lymstock so readily accepted the idea that Mrs. Mona Symmington committed suicide over a single letter. So, on a day when the mental fog receded to the outer banks of my brain, I began looking for answers….and fell down a veritable rabbit hole.

Turns out I should’ve had more faith in one of my all-time favorite authoresses.

An view of Tulle from back in the day!

Twenty years prior to the publication of The Moving Finger, a small city in France found itself a hotbed of this postal based crime. From 1917 to 1922, over one-hundred-and-ten poison pen letters were opened in the small provincial town of Tulle. (Where the epitomes fabric of the same name was originally invented and manufactured.) And by the time authorities finally stemmed the flow of these malicious missives — three people were dead, two were remanded to lunatic asylums, and at least one recipient suffered a nervous breakdown. Not to mention the countless broken marriages, shattered friendships, and ruined careers these slanderous communiques also caused.

And it all started over a boy.

Thanks to the overwhelming number of men called up to fight in WWI and her brother’s professional influence, Angele Laval secured a job within Tulle’s prefecture (police department) as a typist under the supervision of Jean-Baptise Mouray.

Jean-Baptise Mouray

Now it’s unclear how long the two worked together before Mouray became the object of Angele’s obsessive affections and due to conflicting contemporary newspaper reports it’s also unclear if: A) Angele loved Mouray from afar. B) Mouray rebuffed Angele’s romantic overtures due to lack of attraction on his part. C) Mouray and Angele dated for a period before he threw her over. However, we do know by 1917, Angele had hatched a plan to draw Mouray into her web.

By sending him an anonymous note abusing her own character.

Troubled by the unsigned slander aimed at his subordinate, Mouray stewed over the ill-natured intelligence for three days before bringing it to Angele. Who, upon laying eyes on the missive, produced one of her own. Only her’s was “left” on her desk at the prefecture and cast aspersions on Mouray’s character instead (calling him a seducer and such). Fearful the crude letters could harm her reputation and his career they decided to keep the contents a secret and consigned them to crackling flames found within a stove in the prefecture’s accounting office.

Unfortunately, this shared secret did not spark the love affair Angele presumably hoped the notes would ignite. Even worse? In 1918 Mouray hired a new typist for their department, Marie-Antoinette Fioux, whom Mouray soon developed an interested and in 1919 began dating.

Rather than giving up on her dream of romance or in a fit of “If he won’t love me, he can’t love anyone else” or both — Angele Laval turned to her inkwell once again. Churning out several crude letters to Mouray’s sister, denouncing Marie-Antoinette’s character. When that failed to produce the desired result, Angele directed another anonymous note to Mouray —  this time taunting him with the knowledge of a child he’d fathered with his mistress.

This did the trick.

Apparently, at some point along the way Marie-Antoinette inadvertently witnesses Mouray leaving his mistress’s home. As he’d taken great care to conceal both said mistress and his illegitimate child from everyone in the prefecture and (more importantly) his mother — Mouray concluded Marie-Antoinette must be the author of these scurrilous notes and broke thing off. 

This breakup slowed, but didn’t stop, the flow of the poison pen letters being posted. Cunningly, whilst trying to drive a wedge between her rival and her love, Angele camouflaged the true object of her obsession by mailing malicious missives to a number of people within or closely connected to the prefecture of Tulle (including its head) over the course 1918 & 1919. Not to say these catty pieces of correspondence were harmless, far from it, but they’d remained focused on the prefecture itself. Until 1920, after convincing her beloved of her innocence, Mouray married Marie-Antoinette — and — invited Angele to his wedding reception. 

Prompting Angele to well and truly lose her nut.

*(BTW: Using a smokescreen of like crimes to hide a black hat’s true target is a well established mystery trope. One Christie used with great effect seven years prior in The A.B.C. Murders. But I digress.) 

My 52 Weeks With Christie: A.Miner©2023