After the Funeral

Chapter Twenty-five
"But I don't understand about the wax flowers," said Rosamund.

She fixed Poirot with large reproachful blue eyes.

They were at Helen's flat in London. Helen herself was resting on the sofa and Rosamund and Poirot were having tea with her.

"I don't see that wax flowers had anything to do with it," said Rosamund. "Or the malachite table."

"The malachite table, no. But the wax flowers were Miss Gilchrist's second mistake. She said how nice they looked on the malachite table. And you see, Madame, she could not have seen them there. Because they had been broken and put away before she arrived with the Timothy Abernethies. So she could only have seen them when she was there as Cora Lansquenet."

"That was stupid of her, wasn't it?" said Rosamund.

Poirot shook a forefinger at her.

"It shows you, Madame, the dangers of conversation. It is a profound belief of mine that if you can induce a person to talk to you for long enough, on any subject whatever, sooner or later they will give themselves away. Miss Gilchrist did."

"I shall have to be careful," said Rosamund thoughtfully. Then she brightened up.

"Did you know? I'm going to have a baby."

"Aha! So that is the meaning of Harley Street and Regent's Park?"

"Yes. I was so upset, you know, and so surprised - that I just had to go somewhere and think."

"You said, I remember, that that does not very often happen."

"Well, it's much easier not to. But this time I had to decide about the future. And I've decided to leave the stage and just be a mother."

"A r?le that will suit you admirably. Already I foresee delightful pictures in the Sketch and the Tatler."

Rosamund smiled happily.

"Yes, it's wonderful. Do you know, Michael is delighted. I didn't really think he would be."

She paused and added:

"Susan's got the malachite table. I thought, as I was having a baby -"

She left the sentence unfinished.

"Susan's cosmetic business promises well," said Helen. "I think she is all set for a big success."

"Yes, she was born to succeed," said Poirot. "She is like her uncle."

"You mean Richard, I suppose," said Rosamund. "Not Timothy?"

"Assuredly not like Timothy," said Poirot.

They laughed.

"Greg's away somewhere," said Rosamund. "Having a rest cure Susan says?"

She looked inquiringly at Poirot who said nothing.

"I can't think why he kept on saying he'd killed Uncle Richard," said Rosamund. "Do you think it was a form of Exhibitionism?"

Poirot reverted to the previous topic.

"I received a very amiable letter from Mr Timothy Abernethie," he said.

"He expressed himself as highly satisfied with the services I had rendered the family."

"I do think Uncle Timothy is quite awful, said Rosamund.

"I'm going to stay with them next week," said Helen. "They seem to be getting the gardens into order, but domestic help is still difficult."

"They miss the awful Gilchrist, I suppose," said Rosamund. "But I dare say in the end, she'd have killed Uncle Timothy too. What fun if she had!"

"Murder has always seemed fun to you, Madame."

"Oh! not really," said Rosamund, vaguely. "But I did think it was George." She brightened up. "Perhaps he will do one some day."

"And that will be fun," said Poirot sarcastically.

"Yes, won't it?" Rosamund agreed.

She ate another eclair from the plate in front of her.

Poirot turned to Helen.

"And you, Madame, are off to Cyprus?"

"Yes, in a fortnight's time."

"Then let me wish you a happy journey."

He bowed over her hand. She came with him to the door, leaving Rosamund dreamily stuffing herself with cream pastries.

Helen said abruptly:

"I should like you to know, M. Poirot, that the legacy Richard left me meant more to me than theirs did to any of the others."

"As much as that, Madame?"

"Yes. You see - there is a child in Cyprus... My husband and I were very devoted it was a great sorrow to us to have no children. After he died my loneliness was unbelievable. When I was nursing in London at the end of the war, I met someone... He was younger than I was and married, though not very happily. We came together for a little while. That was all. He went back to Canada - to his wife and his children. He never knew about - our child. He would not have wanted it. I did. It seemed like a miracle to me - a middle-aged woman with everything behind her. With Richard's money I can educate my so-called nephew, and give him a start in life." She paused, then added, "I never told Richard. He was fond of me and I of him - but he would not have understood. You know so much about us all that I thought I would like you to know this about me."

Once again Poirot bowed over her hand.

He got home to find the armchair on the left of the fireplace occupied.

"Hallo, Poirot," said Mr Entwhistle. "I've just come back from the Assizes. They brought in a verdict of Guilty, of course. But I shouldn't be surprised if she ends up in Broadmoor. She's gone definitely over the edge since she's been in prison. Quite happy, you know, and most gracious. She spends most of her time making the most elaborate plans to run a chain of tea-shops. Her newest establishment is to be the Lilac Bush. She's opening it in Cromer."

"One wonders if she was always a little mad? But me, I think not."

"Good Lord, no! Sane as you and I when she planned that murder. Carried it out in cold blood. She's got a good head on her, you know, underneath the fluffy manner."

Poirot gave a little shiver.

"I am thinking," he said, "of some words that Susan Banks said - that she had never imagined a lady-like murderer."

"Why not?" said Mr Entwhistle. "It takes all sorts."

They were silent - and Poirot thought of murderers he known...