family.”
“Uh, what exactly do you want?”
A question not easy to answer. “I think I’d just like to talk to anyone who knew her.”
She frowned a very pretty frown. “Let me get Mrs. Holloway, our office manager. Maybe she can help.” She used the telephone, then told me to have a seat.
The chairs were grouped like benches. I had hardly had time to get comfortable when a woman appeared soundlessly.
“Miss Bennett?”
“Yes. Hi.”
“I’m Mrs. Holloway. How may I help you?”
“I’m looking for anyone in this office who might remember Iris Grodnik. She worked here about—”
“I knew Iris.” She was all smiles. “I knew Iris very well. Who are you?”
“I’m a friend of the family and I’m trying to find out whatever I can about Iris’s death.”
She turned to the receptionist and said, “Hold my calls.” Then, to me, “Come with me. There’s an empty conference room and I’ll get us some coffee.”
A few minutes later we were seated in one of those rooms with a long table and a lot of chairs on little wheels. A pitcher of coffee and some doughnuts were on a tray, and I felt relaxed and welcome.
“I haven’t thought about Iris for a long time,” Mrs. Holloway said. She was a nice-looking young woman, perhaps in her late thirties, wearing glasses and a black suit with a large silver pin on the lapel. “But I loved her when she was here. She was Mr. Garganus’s secretary, the kind he couldn’t have run the company without, but she was very down-to-earth. You know how some executive secretaries are; they think they’re chief executive and they won’t give you the time of day. Iris was a real person.”
“How long did you know her?”
“About three years. She’d been here much longer than that, of course, ten or fifteen years anyway, but I was here for three when she died.”
“Do you know anyone who worked here at that time who was getting married and could have had a bridal shower, someone whose name started with C?”
Her face lit up. “That’s me,” she said excitedly. “That was my shower. I’m Cathy. Iris was invited—the whole office was invited. How did you know about that?”
“It was in her engagement book. Believe it or not, the book just turned up last Friday.”
“Oh my goodness. After all these years. Yes, I’ve been married a long time. We just had our sixteenth anniversary. We have two kids now. But Iris died before the shower.”
“That’s what I thought. Cathy, I have to ask you something that’s been bothering me. According to the police, Iris left her job here a week or so before she died. Did you know that?”
“I knew it, yes.”
“Do you know why?”
“That’s not an easy question. The short answer is no, I don’t know why Iris left.”
“But there’s a longer answer.”
“There is, yes. The trouble is, I don’t really know the whole story, and pretty much everything I could tell you would be secondhand.”
“Tell me what you know, what you think, what you heard, anything you can dig up in your memory. I know that Mr. Garganus is dead and I’m not likely to find many more people—maybe not any more people—who remember her. The case is at a dead end and her family really wants to know what happened to her.”
“She had a wonderful job here, the best job she could have had without being involved in the core work of the company. As far as I knew, she was a crack secretary. She’d been Mr. Garganus’s private secretary for years, and he relied on her for everything. I think he replaced her with two people and was never happy with them even though they were good.”
“Did she seem happy in her job?”
“She was a happy person. She didn’t complain, unless it was on Mr. Garganus’s behalf. Then she was a killer. If someone promised to mail him something and it didn’t arrive, she was on the phone threatening them the minute she finished going through the mail. But she was a sweet, generous, friendly person. When
“Uh, what exactly do you want?”
A question not easy to answer. “I think I’d just like to talk to anyone who knew her.”
She frowned a very pretty frown. “Let me get Mrs. Holloway, our office manager. Maybe she can help.” She used the telephone, then told me to have a seat.
The chairs were grouped like benches. I had hardly had time to get comfortable when a woman appeared soundlessly.
“Miss Bennett?”
“Yes. Hi.”
“I’m Mrs. Holloway. How may I help you?”
“I’m looking for anyone in this office who might remember Iris Grodnik. She worked here about—”
“I knew Iris.” She was all smiles. “I knew Iris very well. Who are you?”
“I’m a friend of the family and I’m trying to find out whatever I can about Iris’s death.”
She turned to the receptionist and said, “Hold my calls.” Then, to me, “Come with me. There’s an empty conference room and I’ll get us some coffee.”
A few minutes later we were seated in one of those rooms with a long table and a lot of chairs on little wheels. A pitcher of coffee and some doughnuts were on a tray, and I felt relaxed and welcome.
“I haven’t thought about Iris for a long time,” Mrs. Holloway said. She was a nice-looking young woman, perhaps in her late thirties, wearing glasses and a black suit with a large silver pin on the lapel. “But I loved her when she was here. She was Mr. Garganus’s secretary, the kind he couldn’t have run the company without, but she was very down-to-earth. You know how some executive secretaries are; they think they’re chief executive and they won’t give you the time of day. Iris was a real person.”
“How long did you know her?”
“About three years. She’d been here much longer than that, of course, ten or fifteen years anyway, but I was here for three when she died.”
“Do you know anyone who worked here at that time who was getting married and could have had a bridal shower, someone whose name started with C?”
Her face lit up. “That’s me,” she said excitedly. “That was my shower. I’m Cathy. Iris was invited—the whole office was invited. How did you know about that?”
“It was in her engagement book. Believe it or not, the book just turned up last Friday.”
“Oh my goodness. After all these years. Yes, I’ve been married a long time. We just had our sixteenth anniversary. We have two kids now. But Iris died before the shower.”
“That’s what I thought. Cathy, I have to ask you something that’s been bothering me. According to the police, Iris left her job here a week or so before she died. Did you know that?”
“I knew it, yes.”
“Do you know why?”
“That’s not an easy question. The short answer is no, I don’t know why Iris left.”
“But there’s a longer answer.”
“There is, yes. The trouble is, I don’t really know the whole story, and pretty much everything I could tell you would be secondhand.”
“Tell me what you know, what you think, what you heard, anything you can dig up in your memory. I know that Mr. Garganus is dead and I’m not likely to find many more people—maybe not any more people—who remember her. The case is at a dead end and her family really wants to know what happened to her.”
“She had a wonderful job here, the best job she could have had without being involved in the core work of the company. As far as I knew, she was a crack secretary. She’d been Mr. Garganus’s private secretary for years, and he relied on her for everything. I think he replaced her with two people and was never happy with them even though they were good.”
“Did she seem happy in her job?”
“She was a happy person. She didn’t complain, unless it was on Mr. Garganus’s behalf. Then she was a killer. If someone promised to mail him something and it didn’t arrive, she was on the phone threatening them the minute she finished going through the mail. But she was a sweet, generous, friendly person. When
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