Repairman Jack [02]-Legacies

Jack stepped back into the makeshift office with Ramirez and closed the door behind them.

"I will give you a check," Ramirez said.

Gotcha, Jack thought.

Now he could play hard to get.

He shook his head. "Sorry. Mr. Gates stated that it must be cash."

"But I do not carry that sort of money with me. No one does. Why does he want it to be cash?"

"I can't explain Mr. Gates's reasoning," Jack said with a shrug. "He's on medication, and perhaps it's affecting him. But if that's what he wants, that's what he'll get."

"But what protection do I have?"

Jack straightened and looked down his nose at Ramirez. "Sir, you have the sterling reputation of the Hudak Realty Company behind any transaction. You will get a deposit receipt. And the money will be put in escrow, of course. But I wholeheartedly agree that these are highly unorthodox terms." He reached for the doorknob. "Thank you for coming."

Ramirez flew into a rage then, stomping around the sitting room and shouting about how they had a deal, how he'd made an offer and the buyer had agreed to it and Jack was not going to get rid of him because he thought he might have a better offer waiting in the front hall.

Amazing, Jack thought, fighting to keep a smile off his face. The harder I try to keep him from giving me the cash, the more he wants to pay it.

"You will have your twelve thousand in cash," Ramirez said, finally winding down. "I will return with it in one hour."

You damn well better, otherwise I've gone to a lot of trouble for nothing.

Ramirez turned at the door. "But I warn you, Mr. Johns. If I return and find out that you have made another deal, there will be serious consequences."

"Threats are not necessary, Mr. Ramirez," Jack said softly. He glanced at his watch. "One hour it is."

Ramirez made a hasty exit, pausing only to snarl at the man waiting outside. "Might as well go home, Sung. It is sold."

Sung gave him a small bow. "Congratulations, Mr. Ramirez. But I wish to see the property anyway… in case you change your mind."

"That will not happen," Ramirez said, and then he was gone.

Jack turned to Sung.

"We have a deal," he told him. "No point in your waiting. And I'm afraid I don't have time to show you around."

He turned and stepped back into the sitting room. He didn't feel like playing real estate agent for anyone else. He wanted Sung gone.

But Sung followed him into the room.

"I do not need to see the rest to know that I will meet and exceed the terms you have arranged with Mr. Ramirez."

"How do you know…?"

He smiled. "One could not help overhearing such an excited man."

"Yes, well—"

"You will not have to wait an hour." Sung pulled a long wallet from the breast pocket of his suit. "I can give you the cash deposit right now."

"Those terms were for Mr. Ramirez only," he said as Sung counted out twelve one-thousand-dollar bills onto the table. "The owner is not well, and I fear he agreed too hastily to Mr. Ramirez's offer. If Mr. Ramirez does not return, then new terms will have to be set."

"Does the owner know the name of the man who made the offer?"

"No, but—"

"Then, he will not know that the money comes from someone else."

"But he's sick," Jack said, wondering if he could spark some sympathy in Sung. "And it's an unreasonably low price."

"Here is more," Sung said, and laid three more thousand-dollar bills on the table… but apart from the rest. "If you think the seller should have more, give him this."

Jack was about to laugh at him. An extra three thousand? What was that added to Ramirez's low-ball price? Nothing.

And then Sung added, "I will require a receipt for only twelve thousand, however."

And now the meaning was clear: Sung was another screwmeister, and this was an orgy. Screw the owner, screw Ramirez, let me have the place for the fire-sale price, and the three grand is yours.

If Ramirez and Sung had a slime-off, Jack wondered who'd win.

"Mr. Sung," Jack said. "You've got a deal."

Mr. Sung bowed. Jack bowed, and gathered up the bills.

"A pleasure doing business with you."

3.

After Sung left with his deposit receipt, Jack still had half an hour to kill. He wandered down to the cellar. Something not quite right down there. He'd sensed it earlier when he had shown Ramirez around.

He'd paced off the upstairs floor, but now when he paced off the cellar, he found that the visible floor space didn't match the measurements. After poking around, he discovered a secret room, walled off from the rest of the cellar. Strange.

Here he was in a house that someone had inherited from the late Dr. Gates… a house with secret. Just like the house Alicia Clayton had inherited. Did all old houses hold secrets? He'd discovered this one's—one that seemed innocent enough.

But what about the Clayton house?

He pushed the thought away. One thing at a time. He was almost done here. Then he could start thinking about the Clayton house again.

4.