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John Grisham

The Broker

As always, Whitaker was scribbling notes, thinking about the next question. "Dying? Why is he dying?" "I think it's cancer. I didn't ask a lot of questions." "Perhaps you should ask more questions." "Perhaps she doesn't want to talk about certain things-her age and her dying husband." "Where'd you find her?" "It wasn't easy. Language tutors are not exactly lined up like taxi drivers. A friend recommended her. I asked around. She has a good reputation in the city. And she's available. It's almost impossible to find a tutor willing to spend three hours every day with a student." "Every day?" "Most weekdays. She agreed to work every afternoon for the next month or so. It's the slow season for guides. She might have a job once or twice a week, but she'll try to be on call. Relax, she's good." "What's her fee?" "Two hundred euros a week, until spring when tourism picks up." Whitaker rolled his eyes as if the money would come directly from his salary. "Marco's costing too much," he said, almost to himself. "Marco has a great idea. He wants to go to Australia or New Zealand or someplace where the language won't be a problem." "He wants a transfer?" "Yes, and I think it's a great idea. Let's dump him on someone else." "That's not our decision, is it, Luigi?" 1 guess not. The salads arrived and they were quiet for a moment. Then Whitaker said, "I still don't like this woman. Keep looking for someone else." "There is no one else. What are you afraid of?" "Marco has a history with women, okay? There's always the potential for romance. She could complicate things." "I've warned her. And she needs the money." "She's broke?" "I get the impression things are very tight. It's the slow season, and her husband is not working." Whitaker almost smiled, as if this was good news. He stuffed a large wedge of tomato in his mouth and chomped on it while peering

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John Grisham: The broker  

John Grisham - 2005

John Grisham: The broker  

John Grisham - 2005

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