A Handy Death

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Molly Gilroy, telephone operator and receptionist for Hank Ross’s law firm, looked up from her switchboard. Her plump, freckled face broke into a happy smile.

“Hello, Mr. Ross. It’s good to see you back.”

“Thank you, Molly.”

“And how was the vacation?”

“Fine. How were things around here while I was gone?”

“Hectic.” Molly gave her usual impish grin. “But everyone coped.” Something occurred to her that had bothered her for years. “Mr. Ross, how come you always come back from your vacation on a Friday?”

“I always need a weekend to recuperate after a vacation.” Ross started through the small barrier that separated the reception room from the other offices, and then paused, smiling. “And how’s Arthur?”

“Arthur?” Molly looked puzzled.

“Your fiancé. His name is Arthur, isn’t it?”

“Oh, him. He turned out to be a terrible dancer,” Molly said. “I’ve got a new boyfriend. It’s been over a week now. We may get married,” she added archly.

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