Bruce sipped his latte, looked at Steven, shrugged at Diane, and said, “Okay. I’ve read a million mysteries and I love a good plot. This one wouldn’t make it to chapter three, but it has just enough suspicion to turn a few more pages. What’s next?”
Diane said, “Well the plot does thicken a little. Of course every foreign corporation, as well as every out-of-state one, must have a registered agent here in Florida. Virtually every other state reciprocates. There are dozens of companies who do nothing but serve as registered agents, shuffle the paperwork, and provide an address. It’s especially big business in Miami with so many South American companies doing business in the state. Rio Glendale is using a registered agency in Coral Gables. So far I’ve found two other offshore companies owned by Tidal Breeze who register at the same address. So Tidal Breeze knows them well. Again, there are literally tens of thousands of entities and it could be purely coincidental, but I’m still digging. It does look a little suspicious.”
“Okay. That turns a few more pages. What’s next?”
Steven said, “Not sure. The only way to know who owns Old Dunes is to sue the company, get ’em in court, and make ’em divulge their ownership.”
“I can think of several lawyers around here who specialize in bogus lawsuits,” Bruce said.
All three laughed. Then Bruce stopped laughing and asked, “What kind of lawsuit would it be?”
Steven said, “I really don’t know. Not my area of expertise. I’ve thought of snooping around out there and trying to find an EPA violation somewhere, run to federal court and harass them for a while. But I really don’t have the stomach for it, nor the time. And it would be a long shot at best.”
Diane said, “I’ve checked all the dockets and no lawsuits have been filed against Old Dunes so far.”
Steven said, “It’s a matter of time. Every large construction site is good for a few lawsuits. Unpaid bills. Liens by subs. Workers get hurt every day.”
“Is it that simple? You sue ’em and find out the real owners?”
“Usually. It’s not always easy, but the rules of discovery are flexible and allow the parties to ask all sorts of questions. Real ownership is on the table and courts want to know the true identities of the litigants. We just need a plaintiff.”
5
Gifford Knox was no stranger to litigation. For more than twenty years, ever since his books began selling in impressive numbers, he had been involved in many environmental fights up and down the East Coast. The more he sold, the more money he donated to his favorite conservationists. He had testified in two trials involving fights to stop developers in his beloved Low Country. His testimony had been neither crucial nor revealing, but it had been good for front-page stories.
Nor was he opposed to pulling a stunt to thwart a development or harass a polluter. The stunt was Bruce’s idea. He waited two days until the temperature in Santa Rosa was twenty degrees warmer than dreary Charleston, and he called Gifford with the invitation to come visit for a week or so. The timing was perfect. Gifford and his current wife, Maddy, were bored on the sailboat in Charleston Harbor. The early March weather was windy and raw, and a few days in the sun sounded wonderful.
The stunt sounded even better. Bruce was careful to keep Steven away from it. If it blew up, he didn’t want the lawyer to have his ethics questioned. There was nothing illegal about their little plot; nonetheless, Steven did not need the state bar poking around with some pesky ethical questions. Bruce would take full responsibility. As a bookseller, he really had no code of ethics. As a writer, Gifford certainly did not.
The salesman, Arnold, met them at the Model Home! and showed them a slick video that revealed the breadth and beauty of Old Dunes. Everything a person could possibly want, and just thirty minutes from the Jacksonville International Airport. They looked at house plans, with a keen eye on the McMansions along the waterfront. Gifford, who was using the name Giff — not that it mattered, because he might have been one of the top-ten bestselling writers in the country but lived in near total obscurity, like the other nine — had questions about the final cost per square foot, and so on. He and Maddy had scoped the development and knew that three of the huge homes were under construction. Arnold said two had been sold. The third was a spec house that quickly became Maddy’s favorite, the one they just had to see.
Diane had dug through the records and knew that all the lots in the development were still owned by Old Dunes; thus, the company would be a defendant in any lawsuit.
Giff and Maddy followed Arnold’s car to the waterfront and parked at the curb. They entered the house, which was framed and roofed and even had brick going up one exterior wall. Giff and Maddy had plenty of questions about how much they might be able to change the design. Could they move walls at this point? And windows and doors? And the patio was just too narrow. At times they had to yell over the banging, hammering, and sawing. The stairway to the second level was temporary construction steps, barely firm and solid enough to handle the traffic up and down. They climbed the stairs carefully. Gifford shook the handrail and saw that it wobbled a bit. They inspected the three large bedrooms upstairs, found problems with the layout of the master bath, and didn’t like a bay window. With each minor problem, Arnold assured them that everything could be adjusted. With a $3 million price tag, he could almost taste his commission.
When they were finished with the upstairs, they headed down. Arnold first, then Maddy, then Giff. He took a deep breath, yanked hard on the handrail, broke it, and tumbled forward, screaming as he fell. Maddy yelled too and managed to stop his fall at the bottom of the stairway. In the fall, Giff managed to bang his head without really hurting himself. Sprawled across the bottom step, he was covered in sawdust and apparently unconscious. Arnold bounced around, yelling at the workers. Someone dialed 911. Maddy leaned over her husband, who was not responsive.
They hauled him away in an ambulance. His vital signs were normal. The two medics found no broken bones but there was a knot over his left ear. Obvious head injury. Obvious because he was unconscious.
When he finally woke up an hour later his skull was throbbing with a massive headache. His vision was blurred. The doctor said his scans were fine and give him pain pills. No, he did not want to go home. Maddy insisted he stay for further observation. The following day he was observed some more and seemed okay, except for the complaints about headaches, blurred vision, and a strange ringing in his ears. Arnold came by twice to check on him and to apologize. Maddy said she’d been worried about the unstable stairway. Odd, thought Arnold, none of the workmen had noticed or complained.
After two days he was finally evicted from the hospital and returned to Bruce’s home where they had a fine lunch on the veranda with two bottles of wine. At times, Gifford had trouble eating because he was laughing so hard. Maddy thought he was a terrible actor. They howled when describing poor Arnold darting around with his cell phone trying to get an ambulance out there, downright frantic about losing his commission.
Late in the day, an insurance adjuster for the company that covered Old Dunes called to check on Gifford. He reported ongoing headaches, bouts of blindness, even a minor seizure or two, and so on. He promised to give the guy a call after he saw a specialist in Charleston.
A week later he filed suit in federal court in Tallahassee. His lawyer was a buddy from Charleston who had stood by his side through many of his exploits and been to court with him several times. The lawyer did not know of the stunt, but was suspicious of the mounting medical bills. His client seemed perfectly normal, or as normal as usual, the alleged migraines and seizures notwithstanding. Gifford did admit that the primary purpose of the lawsuit was to smoke out the true owners of Old Dunes. Attached to the lawsuit were standard interrogatories and requests for documents that would provide some interesting information.