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photocopy of the death certificate, so you can let me have the original? Thank
you."
He went with me to the front door, through the ripe smell of flowers in full
bloom, through the muted organ music.
He put his pale hand out, smiled his pale smile, and said, "Please express our
sympathy to the bereaved."
I stared at his hand until he pulled it back and wiped it nervously on the
side of his jacket. I said, "Junior, you could make a tangible expression of
your sincere sympathy."
"I don't believe I follow you."
"Before you send her the check for her credit balance, just refigure your
bill. She's a young widow with three boys to raise. You padded it by at least
two hundred and fifty dollars. I think it would be a nice gesture."
His face went pink. "Our rates are-"
"Ample, boy. Real ample."
Outside I took a deep breath of Shawana County air, but there was something
vaguely industrial in it, some faint acid that rasped the back of my throat.
We were moving in, stirring them up with a blunt stick. The old judge, with
good law and good timing, was snatching the ten acres right back out of the
hands of LaFrance, just when he thought he had his whole deal lined up. And
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soon he would know a stranger was moving into the game, buying some chips,
asking for somebody to deal. When in doubt, shove a new unknown into their
nice neat equations and see how they react.
Hungry men think everybody else is just as hungry. Conspiratorial men see
conspiracy everywhere. I strolled through industrial stink toward the bank.
Six
WE GATHERED again in the bank president's office at two thirty. Sanders had
the Bannon file on his desk, and a Mr. Lee, an attorney for the bank, sitting
near his left elbow. Lee had a round, placid face and a brushcut. He could
have been thirty or fifty or anything in between.
With obviously forced cordiality, Sanders said, "Well, Mrs. Bannon, the bank
has decided to accept your payment and mark the mortgage account current and
in good order."
Judge Wellington yawned. "You say that as if you had choice in the matter,
Whitt. All right. My client is grateful. She thanks you." He opened his old
briefcase and pawed in it and took out the papers that had been prepared
Wednesday afternoon in the judge's law offices. He flipped them onto the desk
in front of Whitt Sanders, saying, "Might as well get this taken care of too,
as long as we're all foregathered here. Everything is all ready to record, but
what we need is the bank's approval of the transfer of the mortgage from Mrs.
Bannon to Mr. McGee here."
Mr. Lee hitched closer to the president as Sanders leafed quickly through the
legal documents. He stared at Judge Wellington with a look of astonishment.
"But... according to this, she's selling her equity in the property for
fifteen thousand dollars, Rufus!"
"Wouldn't you call that a pretty good deal? Sixty thousand mortgage balance,
and you were going to sell the whole kaboodle for thirty-two five and have a
judgment against the estate, if any, for twenty-seven thousand five. So she
pays the mortgage down to fifty thousand, then, sells for fifteen thousand,
which puts her five ahead instead of twenty-seven five behind. Why, this
little lady is thirty-two thousand five hundred better off right this minute
than she was when she walked in here. Or maybe you just looked surprised she
did so good. Remember, she's got a good lawyer."
"But we can't just... approve this transfer. We don't have enough information.
Mr. McGee, we'll have to have a credit report on you, and we'll have to have a
balance sheet and income statement. This would be highly irregular. I have a
responsibility to..."
"The stockholders," the old judge said. "Whitt, you went through those papers
too dang fast. Try it a little slower."
He did. He came to an abrupt stop. He stared at Connie. "You'll be the
guarantor on the mortgage note, Mrs. Alvarez?!"
"That's what it says there, doesn't it?"
"If you're still nervous, Whitt," said the judge, "go look up To-Co Groves in
your D. and B."
"Oh, no. I didn't mean anything like that. It was just... "
The judge sighed. "Could we just stop fumbling and get. the red tape done so
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we can get this stuff recorded and set out for home?"
"Excuse me just a moment," Sanders said. He took Mr. Lee out of the office
with him and over to a quiet corner of the carpeted bullpen. They held about a
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