By Agatha Christie
Whilst Richard Abernethie, the grasp of Enderby corridor, dies his heirs gather on the giant Victorian mansion to listen to the examining of the desire. it's then that Cora, Abernethie's sister, comes out with an alarming idea: "But he was once murdered, wasn't he?" day after today Cora is located brutally bludgeoned to dying in her domestic.
None except Belgian sleuth Hercule Poirot is summoned to Enderby in pursuit of the assassin. Suspects abound together with a wayward nephew unfortunate with girls and horses, a favourite and doubtless innocent sister-in-law, feuding nieces, a nosey housekeeper, and a disingenuous paintings collector.
Poirot needs to conjure all of his deductive powers as a way to unmask the killer and his ultimate end is a superb and unforeseen as ever. After the Funeral is vintage Christie at her most sensible.
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Extra info for After the Funeral (Hercule Poirot, Book 29)
While the cat's away, the mouse will play. And why shouldn't the mouse play ? How had the indispensable servant spent the long waiting hours, while his master dallied five stories above ? 'So the letters were really addressed to Tom - Tom Cat, perhaps we should call him from now on. And shot - but good heavens, that performance at the foot of the cornerstone >' 'A performance,' said Inspector Block briefly. ' 'I wonder if the poor neutered cat felt so very warmly towards the full Tom after all ?
This person was well known to the police,' said the inspector, ignoring the young man again, 'as a press photographer - not yet calling himself Mr Photoze. ' 'Always one for the interesting angle,' said Mr Photoze archly. 'The Super was about to refuse him, but Mr Mysterioso recognized die man and said he should be permitted to go up. So he was carefully searched for any weapons, and it ended in all of them going up to the top floor together. ' 'We'd been together so long,' said Mysterioso, *that really in the end we moved like a single person, always running a sort of three-legged race.
And he gave it. 'Mr Photoze not guilty ; neither motive nor opportunity. And your father - not guilty ; neither motive nor opportunity. ' A sort of shudder ran through the young man. Tears ran down his face as he stood motionless, his head bowed. ' said Mysterioso. 'I'll look after him. We've done our job. But never again,' he said, giving a little shake to the nerveless hand still held in his own, 'any threats to Mr Photoze, let alone any violence ! You accept the verdict ? ' The bowed head nodded.
After the Funeral (Hercule Poirot, Book 29) by Agatha Christie