Death as a Last Resort Read Free Page A

napkin in front of her boss. “Anything else, Mr. Nat?”
    â€œTake a look in the appointment book and see if Maggie and I have a free hour tomorrow or Friday.”
    â€œDo you need to bring that woman into this?”
    â€œ That woman, Nancy, is my partner. And we always cooperate on big cases, especially a murder.”
    Henny reappeared at the door, book in hand. “Nothing until eleven on Monday morning, Mr. Nat.”
    He looked enquiringly at Nancy.
    â€œI’ll call her and find out. Pass your phone over.”
    â€œThere’s a phone in the outer office,” Nat replied curtly. “Then if your friend wants that slot, Henny can book her into it.”
    Grabbing the fur coat that she had flung over her chair, Nancy stormed out of Nat’s office, slammed the door, settled behind Henny’s desk and picked up the phone. “Jacquelyn,” she said into the phone, “can you make Monday at eleven?”
    Now I have to break the good news to Maggie, Nat thought as he listened to the muted voice of his ex-wife in the outer office. But a shout of dismay, some blue language and several thumps made him rush to the door. Nancy, in the act of marching out of the office, had collided with two men entering from the corridor, staggering under the weight of several heavy boxes containing telephones, coils of wire and other equipment that were now scattered over the floor of the office. The two men were gaping with astonishment and Nancy was livid.
    â€œWatch where you’re going, you idiots!” she shouted at them as she bent to retrieve her handbag, and she slammed out of the room without a backward glance.
    â€œWhat was all that about?” the installer asked Maggie when she appeared in her office doorway. “You’ll have to pay for new telephones if they’re broken, you know,” he added.
    Nat stomped back into his office and slammed the door. Maggie would have liked to do the same, but she waited patiently while the installer inspected everything for damage.
    Henny watched apprehensively as he unpacked the console onto her desk. “All those buttons. How do I know which one to push?”
    â€œI’m sure this gentleman will explain everything,” Maggie answered. “It’ll be quite easy, you’ll see.”
    â€œBut . . .”
    Maggie escaped into her own office, shut the door firmly behind her, drew some legal papers that a courier had delivered earlier in the day toward her, and tried to concentrate.
    But her peace was short-lived. “The telephone man wants to come in here next,” Henny said, poking her head into the room.
    â€œCan’t he do Nat’s office? I’m busy.”
    â€œThe man has come to put down the carpet in Mr. Nat’s office.”
    â€œBut he wasn’t supposed to come until tomorrow.”
    â€œHe said he has spare time today.”
    â€œI give up.”
    By the sound of the raised voices emanating from Nat’s office, Maggie didn’t think he and the carpet layer were getting along too well either. It was obviously time to take Nat out for an afternoon break.
    â€œI don’t understand about buttons,” Henny yelled as Maggie headed toward his door.
    â€œYou the boss?” the telephone man asked in exasperation.
    Maggie nodded.
    â€œIt’s quite simple to use. Let me explain.”
    â€œCan you wait for just a few minutes?” she asked.
    â€œLady,” he replied testily, “I have two more installations to do this afternoon . . .”
    Maggie was beginning to wonder if the new Southby and Spencer Agency would ever achieve some kind of normalcy.

CHAPTER TWO
    T he office was quiet. The telephone system had been installed, Henny had departed for home after Maggie assured her she would explain all the buttons in the morning, the carpet man had left, and she and Nat were sitting in her office going over the day’s events.
    â€œYou’d better read