Read Online Whiskey on the Rocks by Nina Wright - Free Book Online
Authors: Nina Wright
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Mystery Fiction, Women real estate agents, Michigan, Mattimoe; Whiskey (Fictitious character)
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Noonan’s tip, I was more or less prepared for what happened next. My receptionist buzzed me to say that the owner of Shadow Play was in the lobby—with the Mayor.
“Good morning, Mrs. Reitbauer . . . Gil. . . . ,” I said, focusing on my client. “Mrs. Reitbauer, come back to my office, where you can be comfortable.”
“That won’t be necessary, Whiskey,” Mr. Best West drawled. Gil Gruen was dressed in his usual costume—a Western shirt, tight jeans, alligator cowboy boots, and a Stetson. Indoors, he stowed the last item under his arm. Although we’d endured twelve years of Lanagan County public education together, Gil acted as if he’d been raised on the Ponderosa with Little Joe. His Cowboy Realtor Persona was born the day he founded Best West.
“Get down off your high horse, Whiskey, and stop wasting Mrs. Reitbauer’s time. She came all the way from the big city across the lake just to hand-deliver you a letter.”
He nodded at Mrs. R, who wore enough make-up and attitude to pass for a runway model. She extracted an envelope from her purse and gave it to me without making eye contact.
“What’s this?” I said.
Still looking the other way, Mrs. R said, “Sorry, Whiskey, but this like isn’t working. Okay? That’s a letter of agreement to cancel this whole rental deal-thing. My husband and I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“You don’t want to rent Shadow Play? Or you don’t want me to manage the rental?”
“Both. The whole scene is like a downer. We just want it to be over.”
“I see. Then let’s talk about listing your property for sale. Mattimoe Realty sold another house in Shadow Point this year—for fifteen percent above appraisal.”
Mrs. R looked at Gil and then at me.
“No, Whiskey. I want to dissolve our contract. Then I’ve got to go. I’m getting my nails done at eleven.”
Gil said, “It’s in your best interest, Whiskey.”
I turned on him. “Why are you even here? You wouldn’t be soliciting her business, would you?”
He looked stunned. “In your lobby? While she’s your client? Shame on you! I’m here purely as the mayor of this fine town. I just want to make sure our part-time resident gets the courteous treatment she deserves. Mrs. Reitbauer confided in me that you scare her a little.”
“What?!” I looked at the stylish, raven-haired Mrs. R, who wasn’t looking at me. She was studying her already perfect nails. “We’ll be more comfortable in my office,” I told her and started in that direction. Behind me, I heard a chair being dragged across my lobby floor.
“Sit yourself down, ma’am, while I expedite this on your behalf,” purred Gil. “I’m sure the cute little gal who answers Whiskey’s phones also makes a decent cup o’ joe—and will be happy to pour you one while I talk to her boss. Ain’t that right, Missy?”
I could feel my feminist receptionist’s wrath. It was almost as hot as my own.
I said, “Mr. Gruen, may I remind you that Mrs. Reitbauer is my client? I will personally make her a cup of coffee, a cappuccino, a cocktail, or whatever she prefers. But I shall do it in my office. Good day, sir.”
Mrs. R spoke up. “Whiskey, just sign the damn cancellation letter so I don’t have to sue you for negligent management.”
“Mattimoe Realty has not been negligent,” I said with exaggerated calm.
Gil interjected, “I’m not sure the West MichiganRealtors Board will see it that way. As Mayor of Magnet Springs, I’ve asked them to look into the string of violent crimes that has occurred under your management.”
Chapter Eight
“You win some, you lose some. Make sure you win more than you lose.”
That was Leo’s summary of how to stay in business. I needed to win one soon. Although I trusted Odette to close her deals and my other agents to do the same, I wanted a victory of my own. It hurt to watch Mrs. R fire us and then, one minute later, hire Gil Gruen on the sidewalk in front
“Good morning, Mrs. Reitbauer . . . Gil. . . . ,” I said, focusing on my client. “Mrs. Reitbauer, come back to my office, where you can be comfortable.”
“That won’t be necessary, Whiskey,” Mr. Best West drawled. Gil Gruen was dressed in his usual costume—a Western shirt, tight jeans, alligator cowboy boots, and a Stetson. Indoors, he stowed the last item under his arm. Although we’d endured twelve years of Lanagan County public education together, Gil acted as if he’d been raised on the Ponderosa with Little Joe. His Cowboy Realtor Persona was born the day he founded Best West.
“Get down off your high horse, Whiskey, and stop wasting Mrs. Reitbauer’s time. She came all the way from the big city across the lake just to hand-deliver you a letter.”
He nodded at Mrs. R, who wore enough make-up and attitude to pass for a runway model. She extracted an envelope from her purse and gave it to me without making eye contact.
“What’s this?” I said.
Still looking the other way, Mrs. R said, “Sorry, Whiskey, but this like isn’t working. Okay? That’s a letter of agreement to cancel this whole rental deal-thing. My husband and I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“You don’t want to rent Shadow Play? Or you don’t want me to manage the rental?”
“Both. The whole scene is like a downer. We just want it to be over.”
“I see. Then let’s talk about listing your property for sale. Mattimoe Realty sold another house in Shadow Point this year—for fifteen percent above appraisal.”
Mrs. R looked at Gil and then at me.
“No, Whiskey. I want to dissolve our contract. Then I’ve got to go. I’m getting my nails done at eleven.”
Gil said, “It’s in your best interest, Whiskey.”
I turned on him. “Why are you even here? You wouldn’t be soliciting her business, would you?”
He looked stunned. “In your lobby? While she’s your client? Shame on you! I’m here purely as the mayor of this fine town. I just want to make sure our part-time resident gets the courteous treatment she deserves. Mrs. Reitbauer confided in me that you scare her a little.”
“What?!” I looked at the stylish, raven-haired Mrs. R, who wasn’t looking at me. She was studying her already perfect nails. “We’ll be more comfortable in my office,” I told her and started in that direction. Behind me, I heard a chair being dragged across my lobby floor.
“Sit yourself down, ma’am, while I expedite this on your behalf,” purred Gil. “I’m sure the cute little gal who answers Whiskey’s phones also makes a decent cup o’ joe—and will be happy to pour you one while I talk to her boss. Ain’t that right, Missy?”
I could feel my feminist receptionist’s wrath. It was almost as hot as my own.
I said, “Mr. Gruen, may I remind you that Mrs. Reitbauer is my client? I will personally make her a cup of coffee, a cappuccino, a cocktail, or whatever she prefers. But I shall do it in my office. Good day, sir.”
Mrs. R spoke up. “Whiskey, just sign the damn cancellation letter so I don’t have to sue you for negligent management.”
“Mattimoe Realty has not been negligent,” I said with exaggerated calm.
Gil interjected, “I’m not sure the West MichiganRealtors Board will see it that way. As Mayor of Magnet Springs, I’ve asked them to look into the string of violent crimes that has occurred under your management.”
Chapter Eight
“You win some, you lose some. Make sure you win more than you lose.”
That was Leo’s summary of how to stay in business. I needed to win one soon. Although I trusted Odette to close her deals and my other agents to do the same, I wanted a victory of my own. It hurt to watch Mrs. R fire us and then, one minute later, hire Gil Gruen on the sidewalk in front
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