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Lincoln
“Mr. Hollingsworth?This is Seth Higgins, city of New York attorney.”
I gripped the phone more tightly. I wasn’t much for lawyers, but after the incident the other day, I was trigger-shy when it came to law enforcement.
“Mr. Higgins. What can I do for you?” I tried to keep my tone pleasant, the way I’d heard my father schmooze these people a thousand times. He could turn out to be somewhat useful.
“It’s come to our attention that a prominent title company in the city hasn’t been properly searching property history. The deeper we investigate, the further back it seems to go.”
I resisted the urge to be blunt and tell him to get to the point of how this concerned me. Instead, I made a hum of interest.
“In what way was their search inadequate?” And why are you bothering me about this?
“In most cases, they’d didn’t search at all. Every title they were paid to research came back clear.”
The odds of that were impossible. If this was a prominent company as he said, the ramifications could be beyond serious.
“And this company is still in business?”
“Probably not for long.” He sighed. “We’re building a case against them, and normally we can’t divulge information to the public. Your family has been great friends to the city, and we felt we owed you a courtesy.”
The longer he spoke, the less I liked the direction he was headed.
“Your name and company keep coming up in their records.”
“We have our own title company that runs as a separate entity,” I said.
“Hopefully, our information is incorrect. How long have you had that entity?”
I thought for a moment. That was a statistic I should’ve known immediately. “Maybe ten years.” The title company had been my brain child. It seemed ridiculous to continue spending money with other firms that we could keep ourselves. The reputation had solidified and other brokers used our company for their transactions as well. The decision had been a solid one.
“Most of these are before that. We believe your personal apartment is one of the properties in question.”
I’d purchased the property twelve years ago from a man in financial distress. He’d contacted me, revealed the number that he needed, and I sent him an offer sight unseen. Based on the address alone, I had equity in it from day one. He needed money quickly, and I happened to be sitting on a mountain of liquid assets, thanks to the portfolio my mother had left me.
We closed the property in three days.
I began demolition on the fourth day.
“I used Titan Title.” Back then, we furnished them with the majority of our business at Father’s insistence. He and the owner had gone to school together.
“I think you need to come to my office.”
Unease slithered down my spine. Improperly searched titles. An investigation.
“Mr. Higgins, what are we looking at here?”
He hesitated. “I’d prefer to discuss this in person, but the gist? A lot of the property you’ve purchased didn’t have clear titles, including your apartment. We’re trying to determine who has true ownership.”
