“Mrs. Jonathan Fredericks.”
“A pleasure, Mrs. Fredericks. What can I do for you?”
“I am interested in purchasing a home not far from here.”
“Indeed.” The fat smile grew even fatter. “I have some excellent properties of all types, sizes, price ranges—”
Sabina said imperiously, “My interest is in a specific property, if it should happen to be for sale. There is no sign to that effect and no one answered my ring at the door. I have come to you as the nearest agent in the hope that you might know if the property is for sale.”
“Splendid. Where is it located?”
“On Eighteenth Street. Number 2675, to be exact. A four-room Pelton cottage.”
Goodlove, like most confidence men, was an expert at concealing surprise. “Ah,” he said.
“Does that mean you are familiar with the property?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Other Pelton cottages, but not that one.”
“So you cannot say if it is for sale.”
“No. But I have a listing for another Pelton, as well as other, more attractive, well-constructed homes—”
“I am not interested in other Peltons or other homes of any sort. Only in that particular cottage.”
“May I ask why?”
“My brother saw it on a recent visit and expressed a liking for it, despite the fact that it is in poor repair, and for the neighborhood. He is a carpenter by trade, experienced in home repair, and I am encouraging him and his wife to move to San Francisco from Santa Rosa. He hasn’t much money, and I happen to be in more fortunate circumstances, so I would like to surprise him with a gift of the cottage he desires.”
“A generous gesture, most generous indeed,” Goodlove said. “But if I may say so, there are much more advantageous real estate investments than a Pelton—”
Sabina essayed an impatient gesture with her folded parasol. “Are you or are you not prepared to accommodate my wishes, sir?”
“Of course, most assuredly,” Goodlove said hastily, “if in fact the owner is willing to sell.”
“If he isn’t, I expect he can be talked into it for the right price. Money, Mr. Goodlove, is no object.”
“Indeed? Ah, may I ask how much you are willing to pay?”
“Whatever amount is necessary, within reason.”
“As much as one thousand dollars?”
“As much as three thousand dollars,” Sabina said.
Again nothing changed in Goodlove’s expression, but he could not prevent a flicker of avarice from showing in the bright blue eyes. Peltons were known as “cheap dwellings” for good reason, as Sabina had discovered in her research. In the early ’eighties a three-room cottage stripped of such frills as an indoor water closet could be bought for as little as $500, while a fully equipped four-room cottage was priced at $850. Their value had appreciated somewhat in the past two decades, but considering the run-down condition of Vernon Purifoy’s property, its real estate market value was hardly more than $1,000.
“Would you wish to pay the purchase price in installments?” Goodlove asked through his fat smile.
“Certainly not. My offer is an outright cash sale.”
The flicker of avarice had become a steady gleam. “Well, in that case the owner should be sorely tempted.”
“He would have to be a fool not to be,” Sabina said. “Of course, I do have one stipulation before I commit to purchase.”
“And that is?”
“That I be allowed an examination of the cottage’s interior.”
“For, ah, what reason?”
“To determine if any structural or other changes have been made that my brother might find objectionable.”
It was a somewhat thin explanation, but Goodlove seemed not to notice. “I could ask the owner—”
“Who might not give you an honest answer. No, that won’t do.”
“Well... would it be necessary for you to be present in person? I have considerable experience in such matters, and I could examine the rooms for you and make a list of any alterations—”
“Absolutely not. I have no doubt you are qualified, but I will need to visit the premises myself. I trust you understand.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
“Then you agree to act as my agent in this matter?”
“I do. With pleasure, Mrs. Fredericks. I will attempt to meet with the owner of the property at... what was the address again?”
“2675 Eighteenth Street.”
“Yes. To meet with the owner as soon as possible and do my very best to persuade him, or her, to sell on your terms.”
“I would appreciate an answer as soon as possible,” Sabina said. “Tomorrow, preferably.”
He balked at that, as she had known he would. He couldn’t be sure Vernon Purifoy would be away from home tomorrow. “That, ah, is very short notice. Too short, I fear. Property owners approached for an immediate sale often require time to think over an offer...”
“By Monday, then. That should be enough time.”
“Monday. Yes. I will do everything in my power to, ah, accommodate you by then. Assuming a sale can be arranged, how soon will your brother wish to take possession? Sixty days? Ninety?”
“Thirty. The sooner he is able to move into his new home, the happier we both will be.”
“Mmm, yes, I see. Very well. Step over to my desk, if you will be so good, and I shall draw up a preliminary agreement.”
The agreement was of a standard, bare-bones sort, more or less legally binding if Goodlove had been a legitimate real estate agent. Sabina signed it “Mrs. Jonathan Fredericks” in a disguised hand.
He said then, “I appreciate your faith in me, Mrs. Fredericks, indeed I do. May our association be mutually beneficial.” Sabina endured the moist clasp of his hand in hers. “I will try my very best to have a decision for you by Monday. Shall we meet here again at one o’clock?”
“The time is satisfactory, but I suggest we meet at the cottage. I expect the decision to be favorable, in which case I will be able to examine the interior without delay.”
Goodlove hesitated for three or four heartbeats before saying, “As you wish. One p.m. Monday at the Eighteenth Street address.”
Was he well enough hooked and hoodwinked by the prospect of a large amount of cash to run the risk of invading Vernon Purifoy’s cottage a second time? Sabina thought he was. Purifoy lived alone and would be away at his accountant’s job on Monday, so the risk was minimal and the reward considerable. The maximum figure she had named was surely too powerful a lure to resist, for he stood to collect the entire amount by simply claiming the owner refused to settle for less. Three thousand dollars was a considerable score for a small-time confidence man, even if it should mean abandoning his current setup sooner than expected.
11
Sabina
It was nearly four o’clock when Sabina exited a Market Street trolley car at the corner of New Montgomery. On weekdays, Fridays especially, this was the time when many prominent businessmen young and old left their offices early to embark on the Cocktail Route — a daily round of upper-class watering holes such as the Reception Saloon, Hacquette’s Palace of Art, and the Palace Hotel Bar that for some lasted well into the night. Business deals were made, political alliances formed, schemes hatched over drinks and lavish free lunches. And for more than a few of the silk-hatted gentry, married as well as single, the evening’s bacchanal ended in one of the fancy Uptown Tenderloin parlor houses run by such as Lettie Carew and Miss Bessie Hall, the notorious “Queen of O’Farrell Street.”
Carson Montgomery had not been a Cocktail Route habitué when Sabina was keeping company with him, but for all she knew he had succumbed to its temptations since she’d last seen him in the Palace Hotel’s Grand Court a year and a half ago. Recently his name had been linked with a socially prominent Crocker family debutante, a liaison reported in more than one newspaper’s society column, but that did not necessarily mean he was ready to give up his bachelor’s lifestyle. She really didn’t know him all that well.