Class Act

10

Mickey woke early the next morning, had some breakfast, showered, shaved, and put on his good suit and a tie. He dusted off his briefcase and brought that, too. He was at his bank at opening time and asked to see the manager, Henry Solomon. He was the guy who called when Mickey was overdrawn.

“Good morning, Michael,” Solomon said. “What can I do for you?”

“I want to make a deposit,” Mickey replied.

“Any teller can help you with that.”

“Not this one. I also want to make a withdrawal.” He placed the check on the desk.

“I see,” the man said, his eyes widening slightly. “Your mother transferred some cash from her investment account yesterday.”

“And I want thirty thousand dollars in cash back.”

“Please wait a moment.” Solomon took the check and went into his private office.

Mickey wasn’t surprised. The man was calling his mother. Brooklyn Heights was like a small town; lots of people knew each other.

Soloman returned and sat down. He took out his pen, initialed a corner of the check, and handed it to Mickey. “There you are. Take it to teller number one.”

Mickey shook the man’s hand got a deposit slip from one of the tables, filled it out, and walked to the window. There was one customer ahead of him, and he used the time for a little discreet ogling of the teller, a small brunette who had paid little attention to him in the past. He moved to the window. “Hi, Geraldine, I want to make a deposit.”

“Of course, Mr. O’Brien,” she said, looking at the check. Her eyes widened more than her manager’s had.

“It’s Detective O’Brien, recently retired from the NYPD, but you can call me Mickey. I’d like thirty thousand in hundreds back, and a bank envelope.”

She counted out the money twice, and he handed her back a hundred. “May I have two fifties, please?”

She took the hundred and gave him the fifties. He counted out $18,500 and tucked it into the envelope. “A charitable contribution,” he said, tucking the rest into his pocket.

“Any time we can help, Mickey,” she said.

“You could help by having dinner with me tomorrow night,” he said. “Someplace nice.”

“I’d love to.” She scribbled her number on a bank card and handed it to him. “Let me know what time and where.”

“Certainly.” He walked to the front door and outside. His bookie, Tiny Blanco, a three-hundred-pounder, was waiting. “You better have it, Mick,” he said. “Eighteen big ones, plus fifty.”

Mickey slapped the envelope onto Tiny’s chest. “Count it,” he said. “And I want a receipt.”

Tiny riffled through the money without taking it from the envelope. “We don’t put nothing on paper,” he said. “My word is good.”

“Good enough for me, Tiny, and don’t come looking for more.”

“You want me to up your limit?”

“Nah, I’m giving up gambling. You took your last bet from me.”

“Mick, don’t be that way.”

“Bye-bye, Tiny,” he said, and walked away. Through a reflection in a shop window, he saw a car pull up and take Tiny away. That had been satisfying. He wondered what else he could do that morning that would be satisfying.

Mickey was stopped in his tracks by a display of houses and apartments in the window of a real estate agency. A woman at a desk barely looked up at him. “May I help you?”

“You may sell me an apartment, if you’re good enough at it.”

She regarded his suit for a moment, then stood and offered her hand. “I’m Marjorie Twist,” she said. “Call me Marge.”

“I’m Detective Michael O’Brien, NYPD, recently retired. Call me Mickey.” He shook the hand.

She indicated a seat at a round table in the middle of the room. “Let’s have a look at some photographs,” she said. “What did you have in mind?”

“Living room, dining area, kitchen, two bedrooms with baths, and a study, where I can think.”

“In this neighborhood?”

“Yes.”

“You’re talking three-quarters of a million or more,” she said.

“Okay.”

She brought out a fat three-ring binder of photographs. “Have a look through these, and mark anything that interests you.”

Mickey began leafing through the book, stopping to read the description of a place if he liked the look of it, then placing strips of paper to mark them. “I’m interested in these three,” he said.

She looked quickly at the three and noted the addresses, then went to a key safe, unlocked it, and extracted three clumps of keys. “Then we’re off,” she said.

He looked at the first two, each of which had problems — one was too close to a busy street; another had no trees on the block. Then he saw the third. It was exactly what he had described to her. It was the first two floors of a townhouse, and there was a garage and garden out back. “Who lives upstairs?” he asked.

“All three apartments have been renovated,” she said, “and the upper two will be let.”

“What are they asking for the duplex?” he asked.

“Eight hundred thousand.”

“And a selling price for the other two?”

“Two hundred fifty thousand each. They’ll bring very nice rents and only went on the market today.”

“I’ll offer a million for all three.”

“I can write it up, but honestly, I don’t think it will fly.”

“The owner has a lot of bills to pay for the renovation and new appliances. He could use the cash.”

“Shall I tell you what I think he would grab at?”

“Sure.”

“A million and a half. And I think that’s a fair price.”

“All right, I’ll offer a million and a quarter, but I won’t pay more. It’s take it or leave it. All cash at closing, and we can close as soon as he’s done with any finishing work.”

She opened her briefcase and set it on a kitchen counter. “I’ll write up the offer.” She filled out a form and showed him where to sign it. He did. “And I’ll need a hundred and fifty thousand for earnest money.” He wrote a check.

“Excuse me, I’ll make a call.”

She went into another room, where he could barely hear her voice, and talked rapidly for five minutes, then returned. “You’ve bought yourself a very nice property, Mickey.” She shook his hand. “Do you have a car?”

“I’m going to buy one.”

She handed him a key. “This is for the garage. You can use it immediately. I’ll want it back, if the sale doesn’t close.”

“Okay.”

“Can I buy you a celebratory lunch?”

“Sure, you can,” Mick said. He felt warm all over.