Perfect Match (27 page)

Roscoe was on the Internet until 3:00 a.m. doing his
homework. He and his Tablet went into sleep mode about the same time. As the
morning hospital sounds increased with doors opening and closing, carts
squeaking up and down the halls, hurrying feet, and clipped intercom messages,
he slowly awoke around 6:30 a.m., just in time for another appetizing hospital
breakfast.

As soon as his breakfast tray was cleared away he made his first
call of the day to his realtor.

“I hope you’ve got some good news for me.”

Jim, his realtor said, “How about this? I’ve got a couple,
two young professionals, who are interested in a three-year lease, but their
offer per month is seventy-five bucks less than what you’re asking. Can you
live with that?”

Roscoe did some calculating, thinking never in my life have
numbers carried such earth-shaking significance. “How soon can they begin the
lease?”

“Oh, that’s the other thing; they’re willing to go with your
stipulation of $5,000 up front non-refundable, if they can move in first of the
month. If they can’t move in on that date, deal’s off.”

Roscoe did more calculating, appreciating the value of
arithmetic by the minute. “They’ve got a deal if they sign today, otherwise
keep the penthouse listed.” A two second pause. “Now, tell me what you’ve found
for me.”

There was a heavy sigh from Jim. “This is a little more
complicated. I took your price range and I’ve searched all of Asheville, and
I’ve found one, get that, one property that meets your search parameters, and
I’m afraid I’m wasting your time and mine by telling you about it.”

“Try me and let’s find out. Do you have photos?”

“I’ve got plenty of pictures…emailing them as we speak. The
buildings, it’s a three-building parcel, is in your price range, but anything
that low is almost worthless. I wouldn’t live in it. It’s on Rainbow Avenue,
one of the…older sections of town.”

There was a long pause.

“See, I told you, you wouldn’t be interested.”

“I’m still thinking. What’s the upstairs like?”

“Dreary. Duct work, wiring all exposed. Brick walls, no
sheetrock anywhere, just one long room. The hardwood floors are original, but a
few layers of paint. The stairs leading to the second floor are in good shape.”
Another pause. “You do understand that you’ll have to plumb the upstairs, if
you’re going to have kitchen and bathroom?”

Roscoe’s Tablet signaled the receipt of the email. He
flashed through the photos, as they talked.

“What’s the condition of the first floor?”

“Not much better. Gutted out, wiring and duct work all over
the place. The building is on a concrete floor, once again brick walls, nothing
finished out. There’s a small restroom in the back corner, but of course you’ve
got plenty of room to expand. I did a preliminary check, and didn’t see any
evidence of termite damage.”

“What kind of zoning?”

“It’s what you requested, combination or multi-purpose.
Ideal for light business lower floors, living space on upper floors. The zoning
hasn’t changed in decades and it probably won’t in the near future unless some
turnaround artist gets in that section of town, which seems highly unlikely.”

“What kind of businesses occupied the three spaces?”

Jim was flipping pages. “Never could determine what went on
in the middle building. I heard rumor that it was a small furniture-upholstery
shop at one point. If he did any furniture work, he used the concrete block
building on the backside of the property. That building is in solid shape…big
enough to use as a large garage or storage area.

The space on the left was last used as an alteration shop.
Old woman who operated it lived upstairs, died back in the early 1960’s. The
building on the right was a radio and small appliance repair shop.” He paused.
“Roscoe, that should tell you something right there. When’s the last time you
got your radio or your electric blanket repaired? Doesn’t happen in this age.
Guy that ran the business closed it in 1963.”

“What else is on that block?”

“He chuckled. “On your side of the street three abandoned
houses in deplorable shape, and empty overgrown lots with some nice trees. On
the other side of the street there are four one-story business buildings, and
two boarded homes, but in equally bad shape and not occupied. The rest of the
block is loaded with weeds and litter.”

Roscoe thought a few seconds. “So, what’s behind the
buildings I’m considering and on the other side of the street?”

The realtor said, “Homes on the backsides of each block. It
seems when the zoning was passed the idea was to have a street that was one
long block, with businesses on both sides. That’s the only street in the twenty
block area zoned for light business and commercial. The thinking was to zone
business space right in the middle of the neighborhood for convenience. Sounds
good in theory, but look at it today…one step from total rubble.” He paused.
“Roscoe, are you sure you know the location of this property?”

“Generally, but I’m not familiar with the exact street.”

“Well…it’s…look; there are some things I can’t say as a realtor.”

“Let me guess. A high percentage of the homes are rentals.
Probably a mix of African American and Hispanic American, and maybe a few
whites? Higher number of police calls than upper economic neighborhoods?”

“You didn’t hear any of that from me.”

Roscoe chuckled, “Sounds like that’s the community I need to
be in. Who are the owners of the property?”

“The property in that area has changed hands so many times
it’s sometimes hard to track it down, but there is a small, like two or three
people, investment group in Alaska that owns it. They’ve had it for about five
years, but I learned that they’ve been unloading their real-estate
inventory…you know, tired of paying taxes on worthless property, plus some of
their mortgages are adjustable. Commercial real-estate has been hit by this
economy also.”

Roscoe did some rough calculating. “Here’s my offer…sixty
percent of their asking price, if they accept it today. Take it or leave it. No
second offer.”

“That’s it?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll call you the instant I know something.”

They ended their call.

Roscoe called and left messages for Billy, his best friend.

He placed another call to Trevor Drake, and left a voice
message.

A third call went to his new attorney. Roscoe had found a
graduate of Elon University Law School who had courage enough to hang his own
shingle after one year doing grunt work with an established law firm. He was
lean and hungry. His hourly rate was a fifth of the pricey attorneys Fallington
Enterprises had been using. Roscoe figured that’d work for him. Both he and his
new attorney were probably at the bottom of the financial ladder. “Hey, Steve,
Roscoe calling. What’s the latest?”

“Glad you called. Hope you’re recovering.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Good. Keep getting better. At some point you’re going to have
to pay me.” He chuckled. “Okay, I’ve rummaged through the legal landscape
around here, and here’s where we are. You’re charged with the full extent of
reckless driving, speeding, failure to stop for the police, and DUI. It reads
sort of like a buffet menu at the local cafeteria.

“The judge who has your case is one damn tough lady. She
questions everything, but I like her. I’ve had a few cases before her and she
knows I’m the kind of lawyer who equally challenges everything. She respects
that. I’ve studied her rulings and her reasoning. Your case is similar to a few
of her others, so I’m fairly certain she’s going to take a pretty big bite for
justice out of your pocket book and your time.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“A couple things. If you plead not guilty, you’d better be
prepared to prove it to her.” He paused.

Roscoe said, “I’m guilty. Now where are we?”

“Smart decision. You’ll have to pay the usual court costs
and she usually looks at how much property damage you caused and any other
extra costs as a result of your behavior.”

Roscoe thought a moment. “So, what kind of money are we
talking about?”

“I did some rough calculations. When your Corvette tumbled
out of Beaucatcher Tunnel, you hit four traffic signs, bent two guard rails,
and damaged one light pole. There was some extra expense involved with highway
cleanup, you know, leaking fuel, glass breakage, plus some extra duty time for
some of the law enforcement personnel. Umm…roughly ten thousand dollars.”

The attorney heard Roscoe’s sigh.

“So does that mean you want to plead not guilty?”

“No, I’m just trying to work with the figures in my mind.”

Steve added, “Another thing to consider…the sooner the
defendant pays up the happier this judge is. She does not tolerate someone not
paying the court.”

“You mentioned time. Am I going to have to do jail time
also?”

The attorney chuckled. “This judge would love to give you
some time in the clinker, and she’ll enter some time but…hold on I must take
this call.”

The phone went to hold. Roscoe began sweating as he
contemplated being in jail. He thought, how would one ever know being stupid
could be so costly? He continued to wait.

Steve was back. “Sorry about that, Roscoe. Don’t like to put
people on hold. I’m getting close to hiring a part-time secretary or paralegal.
Probably after you settle up with me I’ll be able to do that. Okay back to
doing jail time. The judge is big on community service as part of your
punishment—”

“You mean like picking up trash along the highway?”

“Well, that’s one of the ways, but that isn’t high on this
judge’s list. She likes to encourage using the defendant’s influence for good.”

“Explain.”

“In your case, Roscoe, the whole town knows who you are,
including the judge. The CEO of Fallington Enterprises is considered a position
of influence. When someone of that caliber falls off a perch that high, as you
did, the judge will be impressed when you admit guilt, and put yourself before
the community to tell your story of misbehavior in hopes that others will learn
from your mistakes.”

“How am I going to do that? Get a damn TV show? This is
complicated.”

“No, listen. Every week the courts have different groups of
individuals who must attend educational classes for speeding offenders, DUI
offenders, and the list goes on. For a period of time…could be weeks or months,
you’d have to speak before such groups, tell them your story and encourage them
not to do what you did.”

“I hate public speaking. Despised it in school.”

“So, you want to pick up cans and trash? That isn’t going to
impress this judge.”

Becoming exasperated, Roscoe said, “No, no, I’ll learn…I’ll
learn what I need to do.” He blew out a puff of air.

“Let me warn you, the judge expects you to be very
professional and serious with your community service presentations.” He paused.
“Sometimes she shows up unannounced and sits in on the classes.”

“Damn!”

“I take that as a ‘yes’ and you’ll do a splendid job for the
judge?”

“Yes, don’t have much choice.”

“Well, if you plead not guilty, that’d be a better choice
for me, as your attorney. I could spend a lot of time filing motions and
defending you. I’d probably be able to hire a paralegal next week and make a
down payment on a Corvette.” He chuckled.

Roscoe chuckled too. “No, let’s go the cheap route and I’ll
plead…guilty. But what about jail time?”

“Okay, listen carefully. Under the law, technically, you
could get some jail time in addition to fines, or a combination. Since you’ve
had no prior convictions, that’s in your favor. However, on the street there’s
talk that you’ve outrun the police before. No charges, but they know you’ve
been a smart ass.” The attorney took a swallow of something. “Ugh, I need a
secretary soon, my coffee is terrible.

“Here’s the plan Roscoe. We can enter a PJC, Prayer for
Judgment Continued. That basically means you’re pleading guilty, but you’re
asking the court to hold off sending you to jail, if you comply with all the
other conditions, some of which we’ve talked about, community service, payment
of fines and damages, follow any driving license restrictions placed upon you,
and otherwise behave as a good law-abiding citizen for a specified period. If
you don’t, the court can haul you back in court and impose the original
sentence.”

“What kind of driving restrictions?”

“Could be six months to a year, depending on the court’s
discretion. Is that a problem? You can ride in the company limo, can’t you?”

Roscoe took a moment. “Steve, don’t forget I was fired from
that lofty perch as CEO. I’m going to start a small business of my own. I’ll
need to drive.”

“How about car pool or bus service?”

Roscoe laughed. “Probably not possible.”

“What kind of business?”

“Renovation, home repair, fix up, patch up jobs.”

“If you’re really cooperative with the judge, she’ll
probably show some mercy if I can explain the need to drive in connection with
your business. When you going to start the business?”

“Immediately. I want you to do the legal work to make sure I
put the operation together correctly.”

“Be glad to. If you’re okay with all we’ve discussed, I’ll
get all the legal work taken care of on those issues and then I’ll need some
additional information from you to do the paper work for your business…any time
in the next few days.”

Roscoe gave the go ahead, and ended their call with, “Tally
up my legal fees to date and I’ll write you a check. The next time I call I
want to hear a warm female voice answer the phone.”

After a little more sleep, a quick breakfast, and Madison
was out her door headed for the office. While getting ready she discovered a
few more places that were sore from the run-in with the three guys the night
before. Otherwise she felt good as new.