James
The elevator doors hiss open and, side by side, Richard and I stroll into the office.
“Good morning, Richard. James,” smiles Francis. Reaching for a stack of mail, she passes a handful to Richard.
He shuffles through, tossing most back into Francis’ in-tray. “Forward those to the departmental heads, Francis. They can handle them…”
“Yes, Richard. And here’s your post, James. There’s also a package for you. It’s was signed for and the courier was specific that it had to be given to you personally.”
“Really?” At my dry tone, Francis arches a brow. “Almost certainly some supplier sending me samples,” I say.
Still, as I open the package…
Richard, slicing into an envelope, pauses. “Something wrong, James?”
“I’m just trying to make out the stamp. It’s not local.”
Putting on my spec
