Download After the Funeral (Hercule Poirot, Book 29) by Agatha Christie PDF

By Agatha Christie

While Richard Abernethie, the grasp of Enderby corridor, dies his heirs gather on the immense Victorian mansion to listen to the examining of the desire. it truly is then that Cora, Abernethie's sister, comes out with an alarming notion: "But he used to be murdered, wasn't he?" the next day to come Cora is located brutally bludgeoned to demise 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 ladies and horses, a favourite and probably innocent sister-in-law, feuding nieces, a nosey housekeeper, and a disingenuous artwork collector.

Poirot needs to conjure all of his deductive powers so that it will unmask the killer and his ultimate end is a superb and unforeseen as ever. After the Funeral is vintage Christie at her top.

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Additional info for After the Funeral (Hercule Poirot, Book 29)

Sample text

Morton rather liked Jimmy Presley: a costermonger's son, strong as an ox; someone you'd like to have at your side if things got roiled. But Jimmy was still finding his way, still coming to understand he had some decisions to make about the kind of officer—and the kind of man—he wanted to be. It was to this end that Morton had arranged their morning's outing. Presley leaned forward a bit, out of shadow, and in the soft grey light appeared even younger than his twenty-some years: broad-faced and boyish.

Four-seventeen,” she said firmly. For a moment Morton stared at her blankly, then his face lit in a smile. ” he said. “Of course! After what I saw, you did not think I would forget to note it? Mr. ” “Not at all, my dear. ” He smiled at her, hoping his praise would ease the tension between them. ” “I do, but don't wait until tomorrow. I tell you, Henry, this jarvey will be gone by then. He was that frightened. ” To Morton's distress she went directly to the door, opening it like a matador flourishing a cape.

Morton could see the dead man clearly for the first time: young, perhaps twenty-six or -seven, not strongly formed but hardly effete. He guessed him to be of good height, perhaps three inches shorter than Morton himself. His hair was straw-coloured. His eyes had been closed but they were likely blue. The rather square mouth was now rapidly turning to greyish-purple. His elegant evening clothes, fashionably dark, were covered in vomit. It even matted his hair. Morton breathed in the familiar smell of death, but there was something more as well.

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