Triple Shot Read Free

estate agents. ‘You still have your pistol?’ I asked Sarah, who had saved my life with one in the not-so-distant past.
    ‘First of all, Maggy, I prefer revolvers. Pistols, also known as semi-automatics, have too many safeties. There's a risk the bullet won't fire when I pull the trigger.’
    Risky safeties. Who was the oxy-moron now? ‘All right, then. Do you still have your revolver ?’
    ‘Yes and no. The one you remember was a Charter Arms Bulldog, but the hammer kept getting snagged on the key rings of the houses I was showing. Though I’m not sure why, that seemed to queer a couple of deals for me, so I switched to a Smith & Wesson Bodyguard because it has a shrouded hammer.’
    ‘Shrouded?’
    ‘Yeah, so it doesn’t stick out from the frame. Then – wouldn’t you know it? – I found I liked wearing a holster better anyway.’ She smacked herself upside the head.
    Wasn’t that always the way? You buy carpeting to match the drapes and somebody burns down the house.
    Sarah glanced first toward the front of the shop and then back toward the restrooms. ‘Since we’re alone, hold these.’
    I took the sheaf of papers and watched her right hand slip under the long, baggy jacket she always wore over belted trousers. When the hand came back out it was holding a mean-looking pistol – sorry, revolver.
    Lovely. The perfect accessory for any woman’s wardrobe.
    Sarah pointed the muzzle toward the floor and thumbed something on the side of her ‘Bodyguard’. The cylinder part rolled out and to the left of the weapon’s frame but still attached to it.
    ‘What are you doing now?’
    ‘Making sure it’s loaded.’
    Better and better. ‘So, that little scored button on the top is the only part of the “hammer” that sticks out?’
    ‘Right.’ Sarah, again with the thumb, gently rolled the cylinder back into the frame and then wiggled it until I heard another click. ‘Now a chamber is centered for the firing pin.’
    Eyeing the gun warily, I said, ‘This revolver looks bigger than your Bulldog. Is it?’
    ‘A little, but the main advantage of this beauty is that it holds five big-ass, .357 magnum rounds.’
    Holy shit. Even I’d heard of those. ‘You carry a .357 magnum?’
    ‘I don’t always carry it, Maggy.’
    Reassuring. ‘But a .357 magnum,’ I repeated. ‘Like in Dirty Harry ?’
    ‘No, Clint Eastwood used a .44-caliber magnum, even more powerful still. C'mon, Maggy, what do you want me to protect myself with? A derringer? Or one of those puny .22-and .32-caliber Beretta Bobcats or Kel-Tecs? They’re popular with a lot of real estate agents because they don’t weigh much, but I ask you, what’s the point of packing if a slug won’t drop the bad guy in his tracks?’
    I wasn't getting into this with her. ‘So if Polly was worried about safety on the job, why didn’t she just get a gun, too?’
    ‘I told her it was a good idea. Even offered to pay for the gun-safety course.’ Sarah sounded disgusted. ‘But, no. She preferred to run away and marry her coked-up boyfriend.’
    Ahh, yes. Polly wants a crack head. Now that should reduce her exposure to firearms.
    I tried to summarize: ‘OK, arsenal aside, let me get the personnel aspect straight. You fired your office’s supervising broker fearing a sexual harassment claim against him, and Polly quit in fear of her life. Which means you’ve been leaving your young apprentice Brigid sitting there alone with no training and nothing to do?’
    ‘Of course not. There’s plenty to keep her busy. Showings, open houses. But always , with somebody as shotgun guard.’
    ‘Sarah, you have no “ some bodies” left, with or without shotguns.’
    A dismissive wave. ‘Figure of speech. Besides Brigid knows a lot of people. I mean, how many employers tell you to invite your friends over while you're working?’
    Only ones desperately in need of additional staff.
    ‘I’m a good boss.’ Sarah backing-and-filling. ‘You said yourself how capable