Superfluous Women Read Online Free PDF

that she was a chartered accountant.
    â€œDo come into the sitting room,” she invited. “We have some just about passable sherry.”
    â€œWe were hoping the previous owner of the house might have accidentally left a bottle or two of the good stuff in a dark corner of the cellar,” said Vera, “but the key is missing and we haven’t been able to open the door to find out.”
    â€œWhat kind of lock is it?” Alec asked.
    â€œJust an ordinary old-fashioned one. Not a Yale or Chubb or anything. Isabel fiddled with a wire coat hanger without success.”
    â€œWould you like me to have a go?”
    â€œWill you? You’re not a burglar by profession, are you? Willie went all cagey when we wondered what you do.”
    â€œI did not go cagey, if you must use that revolting term! You’d better take care or you’ll find yourself teaching American slang to your kids.”
    â€œThey already know it from the cinema, all but the littlest.”
    â€œAnyway, I was being discreet. ”
    â€œI hope Daisy is sufficiently discreet not to have revealed that I was a burglar—if I were one! My thanks for your discretion, Miss Chandler. I’m a detective officer, Miss Leighton. We tend to learn a few burglarious tricks. Is the coat hanger handy?”
    â€œIn the cupboard under the stairs. I’ll get it,” Willie said promptly.
    â€œEven if there are no bottles in the cellar,” said Vera, “Isabel wants to use it to store apples. We have five trees, and the fruit’s sitting in crates in a damp garden shed full of spiders and earwigs. The house agent told Iz the cellar’s practically airtight, to control the temperature for old Mr. Gray’s collection of wines. The old man was fanatical about it, apparently. Mrs. Gray was going to sell the lot, but you never know, we might find something that wasn’t carted away.”
    Willie reappeared with an unravelled coat hanger and a torch. “I’m not sure if there’s electric light down there. This way.”
    Alec followed her across the hall, Daisy and Vera trailing behind. At the rear, an open door revealed a dining room, the table set for lunch. Willie turned into a narrow passage, with a staircase on the right leading up to the first floor. A door in the left-hand wall also stood open. Daisy peeked in and saw the kitchen, with Isabel stirring something on the stove. An appetising smell of roast beef wafted out.
    At the end of the corridor was a half-glazed door to the outside. Beside it on the left, a row of pegs held coats, with a shelf above for hats and a row of rubber boots beneath. Willie gestured at a door on the right, under the stairs.
    â€œThis is it, Mr. Fletcher. May I watch?”
    â€œReally, Willie!” Vera exclaimed.
    â€œI promise I won’t take up burglary!”
    â€œYou’re welcome to watch, but you won’t learn much. It’s mostly a matter of feel.”
    Alec bent the wire to the angle most likely to be helpful. The keyhole had a hinged draught excluder. He swung it to one side and inserted the lock pick. It didn’t go right through—there must be another flap on the other side—but it went far enough for his purpose. He was out of practice so it took a couple of minutes, but the wards eventually clicked back.
    He stepped back, turned the doorknob, and gave the door a slight push.
    â€œWhew!” Willie retreated, holding her nose.
    â€œAargh!” Daisy fled, gagging.
    â€œA dead rat,” said Isabel, who had come out of the kitchen to see what was going on. At Daisy’s heels, she rapidly returned to her stronghold.
    â€œA Hamlin-Town of dead rats!” Vera followed them. “Coming, Mr. Fletcher?”
    He shook his head without a backward glance. “Duty calls.”
    The kitchen door thumped shut.
    A handkerchief held to nose and mouth, Alec switched on the torch and cautiously set foot on a small