After the Funeral by Agatha Christie

chair. There were no signs of weakness or fragility about him. He looked, Mr Entwhistle thought, a perfectly healthy man, even if a slightly excitable one. Moreover the old lawyer realised very clearly that Timothy Abernethie had probably always been secretly jealous of his brother Richard. They had been sufficiently alike for Timothy to resent his brother's strength of character and firm grasp of affairs. When Richard had died, Timothy had exulted in the prospect of succeeding at this late date to the power to control the destinies of others.
    Richard Abernethie had not given him that power. Had he thought of doing so and then decided against it?
    A sudden squalling of cats in the garden brought Timothy up out of his chair. Rushing to the window he threw up the sash, bawled out “Stop it, you!” and picking up a large book hurled it out at the marauders.
    “Beastly cats,” he grumbled, returning to his visitor. “Ruin the flower beds and I can't stand that damned yowling.”
    He sat down again and asked:
    “Have a drink, Entwhistle?”
    “Not quite so soon. Maude has just given me an excellent tea.”
    Timothy grunted.
    “Capable woman, Maude. But she does too much. Even has to muck about with the inside of that old car of ours - she's quite a mechanic in her way, you know.”
    “I hear she had a breakdown coming back from the funeral?”
    “Yes. Car conked out. She had the sense to telephone through about it, in case I should be anxious, but that ass of a daily woman of ours wrote down the message in a way that didn't make sense. I was out getting a bit of fresh air - I'm advised by the doctor to take what exercise I can if I feel like it - I got back from my walk to find scrawled on a bit of paper: 'Madam's sorry car gone wrong got to stay night.' Naturally I thought she was still at Enderby. Put a call through and found Maude had left that morning. Might have had the breakdown anywhere! Pretty kettle of fish! Fool of a daily woman only left me a lumpy macaroni cheese for supper. I had to go down to the kitchen and warm it up myself - and make myself a cup of tea - to say nothing of stoking the boiler. I might have had a heart attack - but does that class of woman care? Not she? With any decent feelings she'd have come back that evening and looked after me properly. No loyalty any more in the lower classes -”
    He brooded sadly.
    “I don't know how much Maude told you about the funeral and the relatives,” said Mr Entwhistle. “Cora produced rather an awkward moment. Said brightly that Richard had been murdered, hadn't he? Perhaps Maude told you.”
    Timothy chuckled easily.
    “Oh yes, I heard about that. Everybody looked down their noses and pretended to be shocked. Just the sort of thing Cora would say! You know how she always managed to put her foot in it when she was a girl, Entwhistle? Said something at our wedding that upset Maude, I remember. Maude never cared for her very much. Yes, Maude rang me up that evening after the funeral to know if I was all right and if Mrs Jones had come in to give me my evening meal and then she told me it had all gone off very well, and I said 'What about the will?' and she tried to hedge a bit, but of course I had the truth out of her. I couldn't believe it, and I said she must have made a mistake, but she stuck to it. It hurt me, Entwhistle - it really wounded me, if you know what I mean. If you ask me, it was just spite on Richard's part. I know one shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but, upon my word -”
    Timothy continued on this theme for some time.
    Then Maude came back into the room and said firmly:
    “I think, dear, Mr Entwhistle has been with you quite long enough. You really must rest. If you have settled everything -”
    “Oh, we've settled things. I leave it all to you, Entwhistle. Let me know when they catch the fellow - if they ever do. I've no faith in the police nowadays - the Chief Constables aren't the right type. You'll see to the - er - interment -