The Moving Finger by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online

quite worried about you at the nursing home. You never even looked at that remarkably pretty nurse you had. An attractive minx, too—absolutely God’s gift to a sick man.”
    â€œYour conversation, Joanna, I find definitely low.”
    My sister continued without paying the least attention to my remarks.
    â€œSo I was much relieved to see you’d still got an eye for a nice bitof skirt. She is a good looker. Funny that the S.A. should have been left out completely. It is odd, you know, Jerry. What is the thing that some women have and others haven’t? What is it makes one woman, even if she only says ‘Foul weather’ so attractive that every man within range wants to come over and talk about the weather with her? I suppose Providence makes a mistake every now and then when sending out the parcel. One Aphrodite face and form, one temperament ditto. And something goes astray and the Aphrodite temperament goes to some little plain-faced creature, and then all the other women go simply mad and say, ‘I can’t think what the men see in her. She isn’t even good-looking!’”
    â€œHave you quite finished, Joanna?”
    â€œWell, you do agree, don’t you?”
    I grinned. “I’ll admit to disappointment.”
    â€œAnd I don’t see who else there is here for you. You’ll have to fall back upon Aimée Griffith.”
    â€œGod forbid,” I said.
    â€œShe’s quite good-looking, you know.”
    â€œToo much of an Amazon for me.”
    â€œShe seems to enjoy her life, all right,” said Joanna. “Absolutely disgustingly hearty, isn’t she? I shouldn’t be at all surprised if she had a cold bath every morning.”
    â€œAnd what are you going to do for yourself?” I asked.
    â€œMe?”
    â€œYes. You’ll need a little distraction down here if I know you.”
    â€œWho’s being low now? Besides, you forget Paul.” Joanna heaved up a not very convincing sigh.
    â€œI shan’t forget him nearly as quickly as you will. In about ten days you’ll be saying, ‘Paul? Paul Who? I never knew a Paul.’”
    â€œYou think I’m completely fickle,” said Joanna.
    â€œWhen people like Paul are in question, I’m only too glad that you should be.”
    â€œYou never did like him. But he really was a bit of a genius.”
    â€œPossibly, though I doubt it. Anyway, from all I’ve heard, geniuses are people to be heartily disliked. One thing, you won’t find any geniuses down here.”
    Joanna considered for a moment, her head on one side.
    â€œI’m afraid not,” she said regretfully.
    â€œYou’ll have to fall back upon Owen Griffith,” I said. “He’s the only unattached male in the place. Unless you count old Colonel Appleton. He was looking at you like a hungry bloodhound most of the afternoon.”
    Joanna laughed.
    â€œHe was, wasn’t he? It was quite embarrassing.”
    â€œDon’t pretend. You’re never embarrassed.”
    Joanna drove in silence through the gate and round to the garage.
    She said then:
    â€œThere may be something in that idea of yours.”
    â€œWhat idea?”
    Joanna replied:
    â€œI don’t see why any man should deliberately cross the street to avoid me. It’s rude, apart from anything else.”
    â€œI see,” I said. “You’re going to hunt the man down in cold blood.”
    â€œWell, I don’t like being avoided.”
    I got slowly and carefully out of the car, and balanced my sticks. Then I offered my sister a piece of advice.
    â€œLet me tell you this, my girl. Owen Griffith isn’t any of your tame whining artistic young men. Unless you’re careful you’ll stir up a hornet’s nest about your ears. That man could be dangerous.”
    â€œOo, do you think so?” demanded Joanna with every symptom of pleasure at the prospect.
    â€œLeave the