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Big Al 18
Contributed by
ramfire
on
Monday, 9th July 2007 @ 11:33:21 PM in AEST
Topic:
Lifepoems
|
The next day I called a friend who worked at the Fidelity Trust and Title Company over on 47th Street, part of the South Center Department Store area. The South Center Store was sometimes referred to as the Harlem of Chicago, attracting people to the emerging bright-light district along 47 Street near South Parkway.
What I liked about South Center was that it wasn’t racist. They hired all kinds of people. You might say it was an amalgam of races and nationalities all working together in harmony. My friend, Jim, was colored, and an executive in the title company. The last time I’d seen or talked with him was at a birthday party he was giving for his teenage daughter. It was a good party and I met some people whom I could do business with, antique business that is. No blind pig operators or other people of that stripe were there.
“ Hi Jim, it’s me, Berger. How’s you daughter Rose doing. Never did tell you how much I enjoyed the birthday party you gave her.”
“ She really did enjoy that party. She loves the cashmere sweater you gave her. Blue’s her favorite color. So, how are you? What’s new in you life?”
“ I need some help with a title and thought you could give me the information I need.”
“ Not suppose to do that unless you open an account with us.”
“ I know, Jim, so I’m opening an account. Can I stop by your office and fill out a form?”
“ Sure, come on by. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“ Will be there in an hour. Okay?”
“ Sounds right. Ask the receptionist for me. My door is always open to you.”
“ Thanks, Jim.” I hung up.
I was going to find out who held title on the Lakefront Drive house. Did Gloria hold title,
as she wanted me to believe, or did someone else. I can’t stand to be lied to or left in the dark.
Danny Boy’s killing was hard on my mind too. What did he have that got himself killed? He’d told me that Forsyth had hired the shamus who was trailing me. Why? Danny Boy’s murder put a muzzle on that information.. In any case, Lupota had taken the tail off me and that was a relief.
Half an hour later I took the Buick over to the title company, parked out front and walked in the front door. To the right a receptionist was sitting behind a desk of heavy oak situated near a closed door with a brass plate reading Mr. Goodman, Account Manager. A balustrade guarded the desk and door, seemingly designed to keep people back.
It was a fairly large room with walls of light oak wainscoting having mounted pictures of Chicago homes and office buildings. There was a dark parquet floor of geometric pattern. Against the left wall was a pair of mission padded chairs with a tall calendrical metal ashtray between them. Beyond these, a mission couch with its coffee table and magazines. Over head, a brown globe light fixture gave light.
The receptionist was oriental. She wore heavy black frame cat eye glasses. With a nice smile she asked, “ May I help you?”
“ Yes, I have an appointment to see mister Goodman.”
“ Your name, please?”
“ Alfred Berger.”
She flipped a switch on the desk’s intercom and spoke a few required words into it. The door opened and my friend, Jim, came out with a big smile and handshake.
“ Come on in, Al.”
I shook his hand and followed him into his office. He was in his middle forties and well built. In his younger years he’d been a professional boxer with a good record. He was dressed in a tailored suit of blue wool that fit his broad shoulders very well. A thin line of mustache gave his face a handsome appearance.
“ Thanks for seeing me so soon, Jim. I appreciated your making room for me in your busy schedule.
“ No problem. You’re looking fit, Big Al. How’s the antique business? Please have seat.”
I used the leather chair in front of his desk and began to talk. “ The answer to your question about my antique business is that it’s going well. In fact, that’s the reason why I’m here. I have a client who’s purchased a house and wants to fill it with Victorian antique furniture using me as her buying agent for the furniture. The house is located in the Lakefront Drive district and has been vacant for a period of time. I want to know if she holds title and does she have the insurance needed to protect her investment against fire or theft. These are important things for her to consider, and as her agent I feel I have an obligation to recommend title insurance if she has none. I’m ready to sign whatever papers are necessary acting as her agent.”
“ Yes, as her agent I think you have the right to such information. I have the forms you need to fill out and sign. If you like, you can take them with you and return them later completed, or else fill them out now.” He lifted them from the top of his desk and handed them to me. I saw there were just a couple of pages and didn’t look to be complicated. “ I’ll do it now,” I said.
He waited patiently behind his desk as I used the fountain pen from the inside pocket of my coat to give the information needed. When finished, I handed them back. He spoke. “ I’ll put together a packet of what you want and you can pick it up, or I can mail it to you.”
“ Mail it to my office in the Jergin’s building. How long should it take?”
“ Two days at the most.”
“ What’s your cost?”
“ No cost to you. Let me know what your client needs and we’ll meet her needs. “
I’d taken up enough of his time and stood to thank him for his time and trouble.
“ No trouble, Al. Glad to help you and your client.” He stood, reaching across the desk to shake my hand. I left the Fidelity Trust and Title Company feeling I ‘d done a good morning’s work in trying to fill in some blind spots about Gloria DuPrey.
Copyright ©
ramfire
... [
2007-07-09 23:33:21]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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