Death of a Cleaning Lady _ Agatha Christie _ txt Fiction Paradi

  • Mom just got off the phone, but the old man still wouldn't tell me who she was calling. But I think I can guess. "I know, too." Said Mrs. Oliver. Oh, who did you say? Hercule Poirot 。” Yes, I guess it's him, too. She planned to have a good talk with him. Mom does like to have her little secret, doesn't she? Now, my dear, let's talk about the play for tonight. You are going to tell me openly and honestly what you think of Cecil & # 8212; & # 8212; Does he meet your requirements for him to play Eric? ……” Needless to say, Cecil Leach simply did not meet Mrs. Oliver's criteria for Eric. 。 Indeed, no one is more unfit than him. She liked the play itself, but the sequence of the scene changes was unacceptable. Robin, of course, is in the right place. He and Cecil were in the middle of a conversation (at least Mrs. Oliver guessed it was Cecil). Mrs. Oliver was already horrified by Cecil's acting. At this time, she was more interested in an actor named Michael who was talking to her. Michael, at least, did not expect her to answer. In fact, Michael seemed to prefer to talk endlessly by himself. A man named Peter interjected a few words into their conversation from time to time, but, on the whole,Surveyors tape measure, it was mainly Michael's endless and humorous malicious slander: & # 8212; & # 8212; Robin is so cute! "He was saying," We've been urging him to come to the show. But, of course, he's completely subservient to that horrible woman, isn't he? Be obedient and submissive. Robin is really good, don't you think? Very, very good. He should not be sacrificed on the altar of matriarchal patents. Women can be very scary sometimes, can't they? Do you know what she did to poor Alex Roskoff? ? For almost a year, he was very considerate to him, and later found that he was not a Russian immigrant at all. Of course, he used to tell her some big words and boast about himself, Horse weight lbs ,fish measuring tape, but it was very interesting, and we all knew that it was not true, but why should we care about it? & # 8212; Later When she found out he was just the son of a little barber, she abandoned him. I mean, I really hate that kind of snob. Don't you hate that kind of person? Alex was lucky to be able to walk away from her and get away from her. He says she can be very scary sometimes. He thinks she's a little crazy. 。 She was irascible and furious! Robin, honey, we were just talking about your lovely mother. It's a pity that she can't come to the show this evening. But it was wonderful to have Mrs. Oliver here. And all those famous murders. An older man grabbed Mrs. Oliver's hand. He held her hand tightly. His voice was very low. How can I thank you? His low voice was full of melancholy. "You have saved my life, more than once." 。” Then they all went out of the dressing room into the street late at night, breathed the fresh air, crossed the road, and found a pub, where they drank some more and talked more about stage performances. By the time Mrs. Oliver and Robin were driving home, Mrs. Oliver was exhausted. She leaned back and closed her eyes. And Robin was still talking and talking. You do think. That might be an idea, right? She asked, his words finally ending. What Mrs. Oliver opened her eyes sharply. She was in a dream of homesickness just now. Walls decorated with patterns of rare birds and exotic flowers. A pine board table, her typewriter, strong coffee, apples everywhere.. What happiness, what glory, what quiet bliss! What a mistake it is for a writer to come out of her secluded, secret territory and show her face. Writers are shy, socially awkward people who make up for their lack of social skills by making up their friends and conversations. I'm afraid you're tired. Robin said. Not really tired. The truth is, I'm not good with people. "I like crowds, don't you?" Robin said cheerfully. Don't like it. Mrs. Oliver said firmly. But you have to like it. Look at all the characters in your book. "That's different.". I think trees are much better than people and can give me more peace. "I need people," Robin said, stating the obvious. "They inspire me." He drove up to the Labernames Gate. "You go in," he said. "I'll put the car away." Mrs. Oliver pulled out of the car with her usual difficulty and went up the path in front of the door. The gate was unlocked. Cried Robin. The door was unlocked. Mrs. Oliver pushed the door open and went into the courtyard. There was no light, which made her think that the hostess was impolite. Perhaps this is done to save money? Rich people are always so careful. There was a smell of perfume in the lobby, like a very rare and expensive perfume. For a moment, Mrs. Oliver wondered if she was in the wrong room. Then she touched the switch and turned on the light. The light suddenly lit up the low square living room. The door to the living room was slightly open, and she saw a foot and a leg. Mrs. Upward had not yet gone to bed. She must have fallen asleep in her wheelchair, because there was no light on, and she must have fallen asleep for a long time. Mrs. Oliver went to the door and turned on the living-room light. "We're back!" She began, and then stopped. Her hand suddenly touched her throat,Walking tape measure, and she felt that her throat was tightly clamped, and she wanted to shout, but she couldn't. Her voice changed to a murmur: Robin! Robin! ……” 。