Third Girl Read Online Free PDF Page A

in?”
    Mrs. Oliver accepted the invitation, and Claudia Reece-Holland led her into a sitting room. All the rooms of the flats were papered the same with an artificial raw wood pattern. Tenants could then display their modern pictures or apply any forms of decoration they fancied. There was a foundation of modern built-in furniture, cupboard, bookshelves and so on, a large settee and a pullout type of table. Personal bits and pieces could be added by the tenants. There were also signs of individuality displayed here by a gigantic Harlequin pasted on one wall, and a stencil of a monkey swinging from branches of palm fronds on another wall.
    â€œI’m sure Norma will be thrilled to get your book, Mrs. Oliver. Won’t you have a drink? Sherry? Gin?”
    This girl had the brisk manner of a really good secretary. Mrs. Oliver refused.
    â€œYou’ve got a splendid view up here,” she said, looking out of the window and blinking a little as she got the setting sun straight in her eyes.
    â€œYes. Not so funny when the lift goes out of order.”
    â€œI shouldn’t have thought that lift would dare to go out of order. It’s so—so—robot-like.”
    â€œRecently installed, but none the better for that,” said Claudia. “It needs frequent adjusting and all that.”
    Another girl came in, talking as she entered.
    â€œClaudia, have you any idea where I put—”
    She stopped, looking at Mrs. Oliver.
    Claudia made a quick introduction.
    â€œFrances Cary—Mrs. Oliver. Mrs. Ariadne Oliver.”
    â€œOh, how exciting,” said Frances.
    She was a tall willowy girl, with long black hair, a heavily made up dead-white face, and eyebrows and eyelashes slightly slanted upwards—the effect heightened by mascara. She wore tight velvet pants and a heavy sweater. She was a complete contrast to the brisk and efficient Claudia.
    â€œI brought a book I’d promised Norma Restarick,” said Mrs. Oliver.
    â€œOh!—what a pity she’s still in the country.”
    â€œHasn’t she come back?”
    There was quite definitely a pause. Mrs. Oliver thought the two girls exchanged a glance.
    â€œI thought she had a job in London,” said Mrs. Oliver, endeavouring to convey innocent surprise.
    â€œOh yes,” said Claudia. “She’s in an interior decorating place. She’s sent down with patterns occasionally to places in the country.” She smiled. “We live rather separate lives here,” she explained. “Come and go as we like—and don’t usually bother to leave messages. But I won’t forget to give her your book when she does get back.”
    Nothing could have been easier than the casual explanation.
    Mrs. Oliver rose. “Well, thank you very much.”
    Claudia accompanied her to the door. “I shall tell my father I’ve met you,” she said. “He’s a great reader of detective stories.”
    Closing the door she went back into the sitting room.
    The girl Frances was leaning against the window.
    â€œSorry,” she said. “Did I boob?”
    â€œI’d just said that Norma was out.”
    Frances shrugged her shoulders.
    â€œI couldn’t tell. Claudia, where is that girl? Why didn’t she come back on Monday? Where has she gone?”
    â€œI can’t imagine.”
    â€œShe didn’t stay on down with her people? That’s where she went for the weekend.”
    â€œNo. I rang up, actually, to find out.”
    â€œI suppose it doesn’t really matter…All the same, she is—well, there’s something queer about her.”
    â€œShe’s not really queerer than anyone else.” But the opinion sounded uncertain.
    â€œOh yes, she is,” said Frances. “Sometimes she gives me the shivers. She’s not normal, you know.”
    She laughed suddenly.
    â€œNorma isn’t normal! You know she isn’t, Claudia, although you won’t