Six Million Solid Gold Belter Buckles

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“You’ve lost all my money!”

I seriously doubted that—Jessica Maynerd was almost certainly the wealthiest woman in Clarkeville, the eighth largest city in the Asteroid Belt—but it still wasn’t the kind of accusation that a highly ethical stockbroker like myself likes to hear from a client first thing in the morning. My instinctive reaction was to grind my teeth and utter a sharp little scream. Instead, I pushed my features into a portrait of puzzled concern and leaned closer to the eighty-seven-year-old face that glared so malignantly from my deskphone. “I don’t understand, Granddame Maynerd,” I murmured, using the flowery Cerean honorific for ladies of a certain age and status that rhymes with random. “All your stocks are doing very—”

“It isn’t my stocks I’m concerned about, Jonathan White! It’s the six million buckles I’ve lost on those titanium futures you talked me into buying, you and that shifty-eyed boss of yours!”

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