Chapter 19
Jack parked his car, looked over at Cyrus, and said, “You gotta stay in the car, buddy.” He reached into his pocket for a chew. “Don’t let anyone steal you. If anyone comes near the car, blow the horn. You know how to do that.” Cyrus looked up at his master as if Jack was an idiot and growled. “Well, sometimes you forget, Cyrus.” The shepherd growled again, which meant, get real oh Mighty Master. Jack grinned as he made his way out of the busy parking lot and headed toward the office building that housed Lionel Marks’s management company. He really loved that dog.
One look at the ornate lobby of the building he’d just entered told Jack he was in a high-dollar building. Marks had to be paying top dollar for digs like these. He signed in at the information desk and received a pass. He walked over to the elevator and pressed the button. He looked around, surprised that no one else was in the lobby. He looked up at the large sign next to the elevator that listed the tenants and their floors. Inside the elevator, he pressed the number eight and waited for the door to close. The elevator shot upward so fast, Jack lost his balance. When the door opened, he gawked at what he was seeing. Green marble floor, a horseshoe-shaped desk with what looked, to his trained eye, like a blow-up doll. Bleached blond hair, heavy makeup, scarlet lips that matched the polish on her long nails. Chesty. Low-cut blouse. Eye-catching to say the least. Jack offered up what he called his killer smile and said he would like to see Mr. Marks to ask him to take over his account. “I don’t have an appointment, I’m sorry to say. I’m just in town for a few hours, and it has to be now, or else I’ll have to find another management company.”
“You really need an appointment, sir. I can probably fit you in tomorrow late afternoon, but today is not going to work.”
Jack leaned over the desk, and said, “How about this? You go in and tell your boss I have a block of twelve condos in Watergate and four properties in Georgetown and two on Wisconsin Avenue. I can sign a contract right now, but it has to be right now because I have a flight to catch that I can’t miss.” He let her see the hundred-dollar bill in his hand that was meant for her if she cut through the I’m-too-busy-to-talk-to-anyone crap. Before Jack could blink, the blonde snatched the bill, and said, “Wait right here, and I will see what I can do.”
“Money talks and bullshit walks,” Jack mumbled under his breath as he walked around the entryway and stared at the artwork on the walls. He was no art connoisseur, but what he was looking at looked like quality, pricey artwork. Jackson Pollock and Jasper Johns. Nice. Very nice.
While Jack was viewing the art on the walls and checking out the two doors that led away from the area he was standing in, Lionel Marks was berating his receptionist. “But, sir, he said he had a block of twelve condos, plus properties in Georgetown and others on Wisconsin Avenue. You can’t turn that down! Besides,” she said brazenly, “you will owe me a finder’s fee because I could have sent him away, but I didn’t. He has a plane to catch. What do you want me to tell him?”
Marks forced himself to calm down. What the hell, he’d snag the retainer, talk to the guy, and leave him in the dust. Since he wasn’t going to claim the destruction of his car in SE, someone had to pay for it. Why not this guy? “Okay, send him in, but tell him I only have ten minutes.”
The buxom blonde tripped her way back to the foyer on her stilettos, and said, “Mr. Marks is making an exception and can give you ten minutes. Follow me, sir.”
Once inside Marks’s office, Jack extended his hand, and the term sleazeball came to mind. “Mitchell Tremaine. Call me Mitch,” Jack said. “So, are you interested in representing me? I hate to put a rush on things, but I have a plane to catch. I want to warn you that the management company I just fired cooked my books. I will not tolerate malfeasance. I am prepared to deposit a hundred thousand dollars in an escrow account to cover maintenance. Whatever is left at the end of the year is yours. Plus a ten-thousand-dollar bonus paid out December thirty-first. If we sign a deal, it’s win-win for you as there are only a few weeks left till December thirty-first. I will fax you a list of the properties. My lawyer will review your contract, at which time the money will be deposited in the escrow account. I assume your retainer is the same as every other management company’s I’ve dealt with—fifty thousand dollars. It will be paid when the contracts are signed. I’ll be back in town in ten days. Can we do business, Mr. Marks?”
Marks pretended to think. If Jack didn’t know better, he would have thought Marks was a legitimate businessman. “What’s the total of your rentals per month on all your properties, Mr. Tremaine?”
“Roughly sixty thousand dollars a month.”
Marks’s jaw dropped. “For all those properties! For those locations, you should be getting double that. If I take you on, after I inspect the properties, what’s your feeling on rental increases?”
“I’m all for it if you can get it. What do you take off that?”
“Two percent.”
“That works for me,” Jack said happily as he gazed around the office, looking for exit doors. There was only one door to the side that either led to a bathroom or an outside hall. He saw no evidence of a safe, so he bluntly asked.
“Of course I have a safe, Mr. Tremaine, but I certainly don’t advertise it to clients.”
Jack nodded and stood up. “If we have a deal, I’ll have my attorney get in touch with you, no later than this afternoon. She has my power of attorney, so she can sign for me, and the money will be deposited at the same time. We’re good till the end of the month.”
“Who’s your attorney?”
“Lizzie Fox.”
Marks swallowed hard as he stared at Jack. “I must say, you certainly go for the best.”
“You know what they say, you get what you pay for. By the way, just between us, client and management, who are some of your clients? I heard that the lieutenant governor of Virginia is one of your clients; is that true? Actually, that fact alone is the reason why I’m even standing here. I figured if you’re good enough for him, then you’re good enough for me.”
Jack loved the way the man’s right eye started to twitch. His voice was gruff when he said, “I never discuss my clients with other clients, Mr. Tremaine.”
Jack nodded. “I like that. I subscribe to that motto myself, Mr. Marks. My attorney will be in touch.” He couldn’t resist adding, “Merry Christmas, Mr. Marks.”
The property manager merely nodded as he escorted Jack to the door. He didn’t offer to shake hands, and neither did Jack.
Back in the car, Jack looked at Cyrus, and said, “The guy is a real sleazebag and I think I conned him. Greed always wins out with guys like him. He was a real jerk. How about we hit up Arby’s and get us a really big roast beef sandwich?”
Cyrus let loose with a loud bark to show he was in agreement.
“Arby’s it is.”