Chapter 5 chapter Five

"I'm exhausted now," Miss Entwhistle said distressedly and angrily. "You're too old for that. I'd like to know, what does that have to do with you? You're pretty worn out now, aren't you?" Mr. Entwhistle said softly that Richard Abernether was an old friend of his. "Perhaps. But Richard Abernether is dead, isn't he? I don't see why you got involved in something that didn't concern you, and caught a deadly cold in that ghost train. And Murder! I don't know what they're after you." "They contacted me because there was a letter in that house asking me to attend the funeral for Cora."

"Funerals? Funerals after funerals, that reminds me, another baby Abernethor called you - Timothy, I think he said so. From somewhere in Yorkshire Calling—about the funeral too! He said he'd call back later." The phone rang that night, and it was a long-distance call to Mr. Entwhistle.He answered the phone and immediately heard Moody Abernether's voice. "Thank goodness for finding you! Mr. Timothy is in terrible shape. He's worried to death about Cora." "You can imagine that," said Mr. Entwhistle. "What did you say?" "I said it was conceivable."

"I suppose so." Moody's tone was skeptical. "You mean it was really murder?" ("Murder, isn't it?" Cora said. But this time the answer is absolutely yes, leaving no room for doubt.) "Yes, murder," said Mr. Entwhistle. "With a hatchet, does the paper say so?" "good." "It seems inconceivable to me," said Moody, "that Timothy's sister--his own sister--would have been murdered with a hand-axe!" It seemed inconceivable to Mr. Entwhistle.Mr. Timothy's circle of life was so far removed from the sphere of violence that one could not help but think that his relatives should be in the same way.

"I'm afraid we have to face reality," said Mr. Entwhistle kindly. "I'm really, really worried about Timothy. That's not good for him! I've got him in bed now, but he insists that I talk you into coming up to see him. He wants to know too many things - is there any detection and who should attend, and how long after the investigative court the funeral will take place, and where it will be held, and what funds will be used for the expenses, and has Cora indicated that she wants to be cremated or something, and has she Make a will—” Mr. Entwhistle interrupted her, so as not to be endless.

"Yes, there is a will. She chose Timothy as her executor." "Oh my God, I'm afraid Timothy can't handle—" "Our firm will take care of everything. The will is fairly simple. She leaves her sketches and a pomegranate brooch to her squire, Miss Gilchrist, and the rest to Susan." "Susan? I wonder why Susan? I don't believe she's ever seen Susan—not since she was a baby." "I think it's because the family is not happy with Susan's marriage." Moody snorted. "Even Greg is better than Pierre Lansquenet! Of course marrying a boy clerk was something I never heard of in my day--but a pharmacy is better than a grocery store-- And at least Greg seems to be quite respectable." She paused and then continued, "Does that mean that Susan also gets what Richard left for Cora?"

"Oh no. Her share will be divided according to Richard's will. No, poor Cora is left with only a few hundred pounds and some furniture. When the debts are paid and the furniture sold, I doubt it will all add up." Is there a maximum of five hundred pounds?" He went on: "Of course there will be an investigative court. It's set for next Thursday. If Timothy agrees, we'll send young Lloyd's representatives." He added apologetically: "I'm afraid there will be criticism of the matter, because of the - er - circumstances." "Very unpleasant! Have they caught the murderer?"

"not yet." "I think it might have been done by some kind of idle young man. The police are too incompetent." "No, no," said Mr Entwhistle. "The police are far from incompetent. You mustn't think so." "Well, that seems very unusual to me. Very bad for Timothy's health. I don't think you can come, Mr. Entwhistle? If you could, I'd be very grateful, Nee. If you came here I'd Thinking of Timothy will make me feel more at ease." Mr Entwhistle was silent for a moment.This is not an unwelcome invitation. "You have a point," he admitted. "And I need Timothy to sign some papers, too. Well, I think that might be the way to go."

"That's great. I'm much more at ease. To-morrow? Overnight here? The best train is from St. Pancras at eleven-twenty." "I'm afraid I'll have to take the afternoon train. I—" said Mr. Entwhistle, "have other business in the morning..." George Crossfield welcomed Mr. Entwhistle with cordiality, though with a little surprise. Mr. Entwhistle seemed to be explaining, though in due course he explained nothing: "I've just come from Richter St. Mary." "So that's really Aunt Cora? I read it in the paper and I couldn't believe it was her. I thought it must be someone with the same name."

"Lan Squenet is not an ordinary name." "No, of course not. I suppose it's a natural reaction not to believe that one's own family members will be murdered. It seems to me a bit like the case at Dartmoor last month." "yes?" "Yes. Same situation. Isolated little house. Two old women living together. And the amount of cash that was taken was so small you can't help but feel it wasn't worth it." "The value of money is always relative," Mr Entwhistle said. "The important thing is to look at your needs at the time."

"Yes—yes, I think you're right." "If you need ten pounds badly—then fifteen pounds is more than enough. And vice versa. If what you need is a hundred pounds, then forty-five pounds are worse than nothing. And if what you need is a few thousand sterling, then a few hundred pounds is far worse." Suddenly George's eyes lit up and he said, "I bet any dollar is worth it these days. Everybody's having a hard time." "But it's not time for despair," Mr. Entwhistle pointed out. "People are omnipotent only when they are desperate."

"Is there any special meaning in your words?" "Oh no, absolutely not." He paused, and then continued: "It will take some time to process the will, do you need to pay in advance for convenience?" "Honestly, I was about to mention it. However, I went to the bank this morning and mentioned you to them, and they were rather reluctant to let me overdraft." George's eyes flashed again, and Mr. Entwhistle saw the meaning with experience.He was sure that George needed money badly, if not desperately.He knew immediately what he'd been feeling subconsciously all along, that he definitely couldn't trust George when it came to money.He wondered if old Richard Abernether, who was also experienced in reading people, thought the same.Mr. Entwhistle was quite sure that after Mortimer's death Richard Abernether had intended to choose George as his successor.George was not named Abernethir, but he was the only male of the younger generation.He is Mortimer's natural successor.Richard Abernether had asked George to stay with him for a few days.It is likely that the old man was dissatisfied with him later.Did he, like Mr. Entwhistle, instinctively feel that George was being dishonest?The whole family thinks Lola made a wrong choice to marry George's father.A stockbroker with other mysterious activities.George was more like his father than an Abernethier. Maybe he misunderstood what the old lawyer meant, George said with an uneasy smile: "Honestly, I haven't had much luck with investing lately. I took a little risk and it didn't go well. I almost lost all my money. But I can make a comeback now. All one needs is a little capital .Ardens Associates is doing pretty well, don't you think?" Mr Entwhistle declined to comment.He was wondering if it was possible for George to embezzle his client's money for speculation?If George is in danger of being sued-- Mr Entwhistle said bluntly: "I tried calling you the day after the funeral, but I don't think you're in the company." "Really? They didn't tell me. Honestly, after hearing that good news, I think I deserve a day off for it!" "good news?" George blushed. "Oh, look, I don't mean Uncle Richard died. But knowing you've got a lot of money can be a little exciting, and you feel compelled to celebrate. Honestly I went down to Haster Park and bought two The lottery ticket turns out to be winners. If it doesn’t rain, it will rain cats and dogs! When luck comes, no one can stop it! It’s just a small win of fifty pounds, but it’s very useful.” "Oh yes," said Mr Entwhistle. "It's quite useful. And now that your Aunt Kona is dead, you can get a little more." George looked uneasy. "Poor old girl," he said, "looks like hell, doesn't it? Just when she's probably just about to enjoy herself." "Hopefully the police will find the person responsible for her death," Mr Entwhistle said. "I think they'll catch him. They're good, our police. They round up all the bad guys in the neighborhood and filter them one by one—tell them where they were when it happened." "It's not easy if there's a little delay," said Mr. Entwhistle.He smiled coldly, which indicated that he was about to make a joke. "I was at Hatched Books myself at half-past three the day it happened. Would I remember if the police asked me ten days later? I doubt it. And you, George, you were at Haas Do you remember the day you went to the races--let's say--a month later?" "Oh, I'll remember from the funeral—the day after the funeral." "Not bad--not bad. And you bought two winners. That'll help you remember, too. A man rarely forgets the name of the horse that won his money. By the way, which two?" "I'll think about it. Gemark and Frog Second. Not bad. I won't forget them so soon." Mr. Entwhistle gave a dry laugh, took his leave and left. "It's good to see you, of course," said Rosamund less enthusiastically. "But it's still early." She yawned big. "It's eleven o'clock," said Mr Entwhistle. Rosamund yawned again.She apologized and said: "We had a dance party last night and had a crazy night. We drank too much. Mike's still hungover." Then Mike appeared, even yawning.He had a mug of espresso in his hand and was wearing a handsome tunic.He looked sickly, but attractive - and his smile was as charming as ever.Rosamund wore a black dress and a slightly dirty yellow pullover, which Mr. Entwhistle judged must be empty. The strict, fastidious barrister did not approve of the young couple's lifestyle at all.The first floor of this South West London apartment - bottles, glasses and cigarette butts everywhere, in a mess - stale smell, dust everywhere, messy. In this depressing environment, Rosamund and Mike's beautiful features are like two blooming flowers.They were a very handsome couple indeed, and they seemed, Mr. Entwhistle thought, to like each other very much.Rosamund really liked Mike very much. "Honey," she said, "would you like a little champagne? Just to refresh yourself and pay homage to the future. Ah, Mr. Entwhistle, that lovely money that Uncle Richard left us seems to have fallen from the sky." It's the same as coming down—" Mr. Entwhistle noticed that Mike frowned quickly, almost darkly, but Rosamund didn't notice, and she continued to say calmly: "Because there's a play that's promising. Mike's got the first shot. He's got one of the best parts, and even I've got a little part to play. It's about a young criminal, you know, who's a saint— - full of the most modern ideas." "Perhaps so," said Mr. Entwhistle stiffly. "He robs, you know, he kills, the police and society are after him -- and then at the end of the day, he works miracles." Mr Entwhistle sat in indignant silence.The ridiculous, poisonous talk these young idiots spread!And even wrote a script. Mike Sheen said very little.His face was still a little gloomy. "Mr Entwhistle doesn't want to hear our rhapsody, Rosamund," he said. "You shut up so he can tell us why he came to us." "Just a little thing or two," said Mr. Entwhistle. "I just got back from Richter St. Mary." "So it was really Aunt Cora who was murdered? We read it in the paper. I said it must be, because it was such a rare name. Poor old Aunt Cora. ​​I looked at her the day of the funeral and thought She has never seen the world, and if she was like that she might as well be dead - and now she is dead. I told them last night that the ax murder in the newspaper was my aunt, and they didn't believe it at all. ! They just laughed, didn't they, Mike?" Mike Sheen didn't answer, but Rosamund said cheerfully: "Two murders in quick succession. It's just too much, isn't it?" "Don't be silly, Rosamund, your Uncle Richard was not murdered." "Oh, Cora thinks he is." Mr Entwhistle interrupted: "You're coming back to London after the funeral. Are you?" "Yes, we're on the same train as you." "Of course...Of course. I asked you because I called you," he glanced at the phone quickly—"the day after the funeral—in fact, I tried several times, but no one answered." "Oh, I'm so sorry. What were we doing that day? The day before yesterday. We were here until almost twelve o'clock, weren't we? Then you went out to find Rosenhan, and then you went to lunch with Oscar, and I went out to see if I could Buying some nylons and shopping at the store. I had an appointment with Jenny, but we missed each other. By the way, I walked the streets all afternoon--then we had dinner at Castile's. We were about ten Point back here, I think." "Almost," Mike said.He looked thoughtfully at Mr. Entwhistle. "What are you calling us for, sir?" "Oh, just a few little things about Richard Abernethier's estate--documents to be signed--and so on." Rosamund asked: "Can we get the money now, or is it too early?" "I suppose," said Mr. Entwhistle, "that there is always a legal delay." "But we can advance, can't we?" said Rosamund tensely. "Mike said yes. Honestly it's very important. Because of the play." Mike said happily: "Oh, it's not in a hurry. The question is whether to buy it first or not." "It's quite easy to pay you some money up front," said Mr. Entwhistle, "and pay you as much as you need." "That's all right," Rosamund breathed a sigh of relief.She remembered and added: "Did Aunt Kona leave any money?" "A little. She left it to your cousin Susan." "Why Susan, I should like to know! Is it a lot of money?" "A few hundred pounds and some furniture." "Good furniture?" "No," said Mr Entwhistle. Rosamund lost interest. "It's very strange, isn't it?" she said. "After the funeral, Cora was still there, and out of nowhere, 'He was murdered!' And then, the very next day, she herself was murdered! I mean, weird, isn't it?" There was a somewhat uncomfortable silence before Mr. Entwhistle spoke, and he said calmly: "Yes, very strange indeed..." Mr. Entwhistle secretly studied Susan Banks, who was leaning over the table with vigor to speak. Not as beautiful as Rosamund.But it was an attractive face, and Mr. Entwhistle believed that its charm was due to her vitality.It's a very feminine mouth with full lips, and her body is even more feminine - absolutely.In many ways, however, Susan reminded him of her uncle, Richard Abernether.The shape of her head, the line of her jaw, her deep, shining eyes.She had Richard's dominant personality, the same vigor, the same sound and far-sighted judgment.Of the three members of the younger generation, she seemed to be the only one with the spirit that had made the Abernethians rich.Had Richard ever seen something like himself in this niece?Mr Entwhistle thought he must have seen it.Richard had always been adept at judging personalities.Of course this was exactly what he was looking for.In his will, however, Richard Abernether gave no special favor to her.Entwhisso believed, he didn't trust George, let alone the beautiful fool Rosamund—couldn't he find in Susan what he was looking for—an heir with his temperament? If the answer is no, the reason must be - yes, logically - that her husband... Mr. Entwhistle's eyes flicked softly over Susan's shoulder to Greg Banks, who stood there absent-mindedly sharpening a pencil. A lanky, pale, featureless young man with reddish-blond hair.It is difficult to know what kind of person he is under the cover of Susan's colorful personality.The elusive guy - quite pleasant and ready to chime in - a Mr. Yes yes.However, this description seems to be unsatisfactory.There is a vague uneasiness in Greg Banks' humility.He was not a match - yet Susan insisted on marrying him - against all odds - why?What does she fancy in him? Now, six months after marriage—"She's crazy about the guy," said Mr. Entwhistle to himself.He can see it.Many wives with marital problems have gone to Bernard Entwhistle & Co.A wife who is madly in love with her husband, only to find out later that she is not worth loving at all, and a wife who is disgusted by an outwardly attractive, flawless husband.What women are looking for in a particular man is beyond the comprehension of a man with general intelligence.That's it.A woman who is brilliant in every other way can turn out to be a complete fool when she meets certain men in particular.Susan, thought Mr Entwhistle, was one of those women.For her, the world revolved around Greg, and that was a dangerous phenomenon. Susan emphasized her tone and said angrily. "- because it was so disgraceful. You remember that woman murdered in Yorkshire last year? No trace of the murderer was ever caught. And the old lady who was murdered by niggers in the candy shop, and they detained someone, and let him go!" "It will take proof, my dear girl," said Mr. Entwhistle. Susan didn't listen to him. "Another case - a retired nurse - with a hatchet or hatchet - like Aunt Cora." "For God's sake, you seem to know a lot about these crimes, Susan," said Mr. Entwhistle kindly. "Naturally remembering these things - and when one of your own family members was killed - again in a very similar way - I mean, it shows that there must be a lot of those kind of people wandering the country, breaking in and out, attacking solitary women--and the police don't care!" En Whistle showed and shook his head. "Don't underestimate the police, Susan. They're a very shrewd, patient bunch--and persistent. Just because it doesn't get brought up again in the papers doesn't mean a case is closed. It's far from it." "Yet there are hundreds of unsolved cases every year." "Hundreds of pieces?" Mr. Entwhistle looked suspicious. "There are a few things that are true. But there are many times when the police know who committed a crime and suffer from insufficient evidence to prosecute." "I don't believe it," Susan said. "I believe that if you know exactly who committed a crime you can always find evidence." "I doubt it," said Mr. Entwhistle thoughtfully. "I very much doubt..." "Did they have any notion--Aunt Cora's case--who might have done it?" "I can't tell. But they won't tell me--and it's early--you have to remember, this murder happened the day before yesterday." "Must be some kind of guy," said Susan lamentably, "some inhuman, maybe a little demented type—a veteran or prison escapee. I mean with an ax like—" Mr. Entwhistle had a funny expression on his face, he raised his eyebrows and muttered: "Lizzie Borden with the axe cut her father forty times when she sees her masterpiece And cut off her mother forty-one times" "Oh," said Susan, flushing with anger, "and Cora has no relatives living with her—unless you mean her entourage. And anyway, Lizzie Borden was released later. Nobody really knew she had lied to her father and stepmother." "It's a rather derogatory poem indeed," said Mr. Entwhistle. "You mean it was really the hand of the servant? Did Ke Na leave her anything?" "A worthless garnet brooch and some memorabilia sketches of fishing villages." "Unless it's an idiot—there's got to be a motive for murder." Mr Entwhistle chuckled a little. "As far as I know, the only person who has a motive is you, my good Susan." "What's that?" Greg walked forward suddenly.He was like waking up from a big dream.His eyes flashed fiercely.He is suddenly no longer a negligible background figure. "What's Susan got to do with her? What do you mean—say that?" Susan suddenly said: "Shut up, Greg, Mr. Entwhistle didn't mean anything—" "Just a joke," said Mr. Entwhistle apologetically. "I'm afraid it's not very wise. Cora bequeathed all her property to you, Susan. But for a young lady who has just inherited hundreds of thousands of pounds, an inheritance of a few hundred pounds at most may not be enough." as a motive for murder." "She left me her money?" Susan said in surprise. "It's strange. She can even say she doesn't know me. Why do you think she does that?" "I think she's heard that your marriage is—er—difficult." Greg went back to sharpening his pencil, looking somber. "She's had some troubles in her own marriage—I think she has some kind of sympathy." Susan asked with great interest: "She's married to an artist whose family dislikes, isn't she? Is he a good artist?" Mr Entwhistle shook his head decisively. "Are there any paintings of him where she lives?" "Have." "Then I'll judge for myself," said Susan. Mr Entwhistle smiled at Susan's resolute chin. "Let's do it. I'm old-fashioned, no doubt, and my views on art are terribly old-fashioned and hopelessly old-fashioned, but I really don't think you can refute my views." "I thought I'd go over there and see what it's like. Is anyone there now?" "I have arranged for Miss Gilchrist to remain there until further notice from me." "She must have been guts -- to stay in the murder house," Gregg said. "Miss Gilchrist is, I should say, a very sensible woman. Besides," added the lawyer dryly, "I don't think she has anywhere else to go until she finds a new job." "So Aunt Kona let her go after she died? She—is she and Aunt Kona—close—" Mr Entwhistle watched her curiously.Don't know what's going on in her mind. "It's kind of intimate, I think," he said. "She never treated Miss Gilchrist as a servant." "Perhaps treat her worse than that," said Susan, "these poor so-called 'ladies' are the outcasts of society these days. I'll try and find her a decent job. It's not difficult. Anyone who will do People who do housework and cook are worth like gold—does she cook?" "Oh yes. I think she doesn't want to be what she calls - er - heavy. I'm afraid I don't quite understand what 'heavy' is." Susan's expression became more interested. Mr Entwhistle looked at his watch and said: "Your aunt named Timothy her executor." "Timothy," Susan said dismissively. "Uncle Timothy is such a mystery. No one has ever seen him." "So to speak." Mr. Entwhistle glanced at his watch again. "I'm going to see him this afternoon. I'll tell him you've decided to go where your aunt lives." "I'm only going for a day or two, I think. I don't want to be out of London for too long. I'm busy. I'm going to do business." Mr Entwhistle looked at the cramped living room of the small apartment.Apparently things were not going well for Greg and Susan.He knew that her father had spent most of the money.He didn't take care of his daughter. "What are your future plans, I hope you don't mind me asking that?" "I've got my eye on a certain property in Cardigan Street. I thought you'd pay me some money in advance, if necessary? I might have to pay a deposit first." "It can be arranged," Mr Entwhistle said. "I called you a few times the day after the funeral—but no one answered. I thought maybe you wanted to advance a little money. I wonder if you might be out." "Oh no," said Susan quickly. "We were there all day. Both of us. We didn't go out at all." Greg said softly: "You know, Susan, I think our phone must have been out of order that day. Do you remember when I tried to call Harder's that afternoon and couldn't get through? It will pass by itself in the morning." "The telephone," said Mr. Entwhistle, "is very unreliable sometimes." Susan suddenly said: "How did Aunt Ke Na know about our marriage? We were married notarized, and we didn't tell anyone until later——" "Richard told her, I think. She just changed her will about three weeks ago. (The old one left everything to the Theosophical Society)—about the time he went to see her." Susan looked horrified. "Uncle Richard to see her? I don't know about it!" "I don't know," said Mr Entwhistle. "Then it's—" "What is it?" "Nothing," said Susan.