A big shot Bay Street lawyer phoned home to his Yorkville mansion one morning, and a woman with a strange voice answered.
“Are you the new maid?” he asks.
“Yes, I am,” the woman replies.
“Would you call my wife to the phone, please?” says the lawyer.
“She can’t speak right now,” says the maid. “She is up in the bedroom... she’s uh... she’s uh...”
“Come on, out with it, woman,” says the lawyer. “I haven’t got all day. What the heck is she doing?”
“She’s having sex with the guy who lives next door,” replies the maid.
The lawyer thinks for a moment then says, “Okay. here’s what I want you to do. Sneak upstairs, go into my den and look in the bottom drawer of my desk. There you’ll find my Colt .45 handgun. Take the gun and go into the bedroom and shoot them both dead. I’m a hotshot lawyer. I’ll get you off scot-free, no doubt about it. And I’ll make sure that you are very well rewarded for your trouble.”
The maid agrees to follow his instructions. A few minutes later, the lawyer hears several loud gunshots followed by dead silence. Then the maid comes back to the phone and says, “It’s done. Now what should I do?”
“Okay,” says the lawyer. “Now I want you to go back upstairs and throw them in the swimming pool.”
“What swimming pool?” replies the maid.
“Uh-oh...” says the lawyer. “Is this 416-815-2324?”
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