Third Girl Read Online Free

be quite a good time.” She went towards the telephone. “I shall have to think of reasons and things—perhaps invent things?”
    She looked towards Poirot rather doubtfully.
    â€œBut naturally. That is understood. You are a woman of imagination—you will have no difficulty. But—not too fantastic, you understand. Moderation.”
    Mrs. Oliver flashed him an understanding glance.
    She dialled and asked for the number she wanted. Turning her head, she hissed: “Have you got a pencil and paper—or a notebook—something to write down names or addresses or places?”
    Poirot had already his notebook arranged by his elbow and nodded his head reassuringly.
    Mrs. Oliver turned back to the receiver she held and launched herself into speech. Poirot listened attentively to one side of a telephone conversation.
    â€œHallo. Can I speak to—Oh, it’s you, Naomi. Ariadne Oliver here. Oh, yes—well, it was rather a crowd…Oh, you mean the old boy?…No, you know I don’t…Practically blind?…I thought he was going up to London with the little foreign girl…Yes, it must be rather worrying for them sometimes—but she seems to manage him quite well…One of the things I rang up for wasto ask you what the girl’s address was—No, the Restarick girl, I mean—somewhere in South Ken, isn’t it? Or was it Knightsbridge? Well, I promised her a book and I wrote down the address, but of course I’ve lost it as usual. I can’t even remember her name. Is it Thora or Norma?…Yes, I thought it was Norma:…Wait a minute, I’ll get a pencil…Yes, I’m ready…67 Borodene Mansions…I know—that great block that looks rather like Wormwood Scrubs prison…Yes, I believe the flats are very comfortable with central heating and everything…Who are the other two girls she lives with?…Friends of hers?…or advertisements?…Claudia Reece-Holland…her father’s the MP, is he? Who’s the other one?…No, I suppose you wouldn’t know—she’s quite nice, too, I suppose…What do they all do? They always seem to be secretaries, don’t they?…Oh, the other girl’s an interior decorator—you think—or to do with an art gallery—No, Naomi, of course I don’t really want to know—one just wonders—what do all the girls do nowadays?—well, it’s useful for me to know because of my books—one wants to keep up to date…What was it you told me about some boyfriend…Yes, but one’s so helpless, isn’t one? I mean girls do just exactly as they like…does he look very awful? Is he the unshaven dirty kind? Oh, that kind—Brocade waistcoats, and long curling chestnut hair—lying on his shoulders—yes, so hard to tell whether they’re girls or boys, isn’t it?—Yes, they do look like Vandykes sometimes if they’re good-looking…What did you say? That Andrew Restarick simply hates him?…Yes, men usually do…Mary Restarick?…Well, I suppose you do usually have rows with a stepmother. I expect she was quite thankful when the girl got a job in London. What do you mean about people saying things…Why, couldn’t they find outwhat was the matter with her?… Who said?…Yes, but what did they hush up?…Oh—a nurse?—talked to the Jenners’ governess? Do you mean her husband? Oh, I see—The doctors couldn’t find out…No, but people are so ill-natured. I do agree with you. These things are usually quite untrue…Oh, gastric, was it?…But how ridiculous. Do you mean people said what’s his name—Andrew—You mean it would be easy with all those weed killers about—Yes, but why?…I mean, it’s not a case of some wife he’s hated for years—she’s the second wife—and much younger than he is and