Triple Shot Read Free Page A

and eager Brigid is. So I gave her free rein, let her write the occasional offer-to-purchase and balance our clients’ trust account. I was even going to let her do the Williams’ open house on Sunday, though now MaryAnne wants it late Friday afternoon.’
    MaryAnne Williams was one of the Barbies enjoying our coffee out-front, but unlike the woman who’d peeked around the corner, she hadn’t homogenized her appearance to join the clique. In fact, MaryAnne was the high-resolution version of fading Elaine Riordan, right down to the Southern accent. Big and naturally blonde, ballsy and . . . well, imagine the volume punched up ten notches on Riordan’s wispy lilt and you’d pretty much have MaryAnne’s timbre. And she herself would tell you she didn’t care ‘a fig’ about fitting in, here or anywhere else.
    Still, I shook my head. ‘An open house on Friday afternoon? Everybody’s at work.’
    ‘Apparently not the people who can afford that house. Besides, MaryAnne wants us to serve wine and cheese so people can stop by on their way home, even if they actually have a job.’
    ‘Not a bad idea,’ I said. ‘A one-time happy hour, like those clothing boutiques sometimes—’
    ‘I still can’t believe that little ingrate is ratting me out to the state. Here, trade. Just keep the muzzle pointed down.’ Sarah thrust the revolver at me and took back the papers. ‘See, Maggy? Look at this.’
    I held the gun gingerly with both hands and tried to read the line next to where her index finger was tapping. ‘OK. Unlicensed real estate apprentices aren’t supposed to do what you—’
    ‘They’re not supposed to do any thing, at least for the first six months. But what good is that to me? Or any other broker’s business?’
    ‘I think you might be missing the point of mentoring.’
    ‘Yeah? Well, maybe Ms Brigid Ferndale is “missing the point” of being an apprentice.’
    ‘Apprentice or indentured servant?’
    ‘I’ve been paying her a perfectly fair salary, as detailed in –’ Sarah flipped to another page – ‘this.’
    I looked at her second ‘this’. It was a contract, evidently filed with Wisconsin’s Department of Regulation and Licensing, in which Sarah promised to provide Brigid with a salary and also stipulated her hours, ‘course of study’ and a schedule of commissions she would be paid upon completion of the apprenticeship.
    ‘Comprehensive,’ I said. ‘Right down to what you were supposed to be teaching her.’
    ‘And then she goes behind my back and files a complaint? The Division of Enforcement is going to be on this like flies on horseshit. Who knows what irregularities an auditor might find, with me out of the office so much.’
    Out of the office so much? That was putting it mildly and, besides, more argument for the prosecution than evidence for the defense. Sarah had essentially gone AWOL, preferring to sell coffee over property. And she’d left a kid in charge of her realty gig.
    Even Brigid – eager as she might be to get ahead – knew that was a mistake.
    Though I had to take some of the blame, too. Sarah had abdicated her office to become my business partner.
    ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ I said weakly as Sarah took back the gun.
    ‘Try to sound like at least you’re convinced of that,’ Sarah growled as she pushed aside her jacket and slipped the gun back into the holster attached to her belt.
    Elaine Riordan hovered tentatively at the corner again. Apparently she’d left her tennis gear in the car, but slung over her shoulder was a strapped bag expansive enough to hold a frou-frou dog. And with enough buckles and hardware on the outside to convince any potential hairy Houdini not to make a break for it.
    I cleared my throat. ‘Can I help you?’
    ‘I’m so sorry, but I need to use the restroom?’ Her tennis soles squeaked as she did a pitiful little potty dance.
    I tugged Sarah to one side and Riordan hurried past us at a dead run.
    I’m not sure my