This is a story I had to write in English class. The subject was: "continue the short story Accident by Agatha Christie: after Evans' death, Captain Haydock starts to suspect Mrs. Merrowdene and goes to the police." I don't think it's any good though, and it might be hard to understand if you haven't read the original story... but you can always go on Wikipedia, there's a full summary of it.
When the news of Evans's death came, I was just wondering whether he would harass poor Mrs. Merrowdene with his suspicions or leave her alone. Then I knew, and I was so crushed by the sheer suddenness and unfairness of it that I closed the door on the news-bearer and I stood there, the news ringing endlessly in my ears: "There was an accident, your friend is dead." Then, hours later, I found myself thinking: "If only he hadn't tried to put his nose in everyone else's business! Then he wouldn't have gone for tea at the Merrowdenes'!" But on the day of his burial, as Mrs. Merrowdene was letting a rose fall onto the coffin, I saw the faintest trace of a smile on her lips. It wasn't an accident! She must have guessed he was about to expose her and she killed him!
I quickly went to the police. I told them the whole story and they said they would look into it. I stayed home for the next few days, waiting for news. Evans was my only friend and I didn't know my other neighbors that well, so I didn't usually receive many visits. No one came to distract me from my restless waiting.
I got a phone call from the post-office, saying I had received a rather large package and that I was to go and retrieve it. It turned out it had been a mistake, and I returned home grumbling at the inefficiency of administrations, that had just cost me two whole hours.
I had apparently been so agitated by the hope of finally getting some news that I had forgotten to lock my door. "Even mint sauce doesn't taste as good as when he was there," I thought somberly, as I was indulging with my favorite meal.
A few days later, the old captain was found dead, just behind the door of his house. It seemed he had died in agonizing pain, trying to get outside. The inspectors discovered he had used rat poison instead of salt for several days. His neighbors reported he had started acting oddly after his only friend's death: he had accused poor Mrs. Merrowdene of killing Evans, had gone out for no obvious reason and returned muttering to himself after almost barricading himself in his house for days on end, not even going to church or to the pub as he usually did every other day. The report concluded he had either confused rat poison with salt because of grief and old age, or he had decided to end his own life out of sorrow and desperation. The news of a second death so close to Evans's shook the small town and made front page in the local paper.
As she read the end of the article, where the police apologized for unduly suspecting the innocent Mrs. Merrowdene, a dark-haired woman smiled softly to herself, and went back to her cooking. She had so much salt to use...