Page 11 of The Hampton Beach Café 6
Seven figures!? Considering the offers she had seen on Clarkson's shoddy listing were barely six figures, this was more than a shock.
She quickly wrote down the email address associated with the chat and closed the window. She needed to talk to someone about this—right now, before she completely freaked out.
SEVEN
Grabbing her laptop and almost tripping down the stairs, she peeked around the corner, glad to see the café almost empty. Duncan was holding his own on the cash register, and Lucinda was loitering with Vince in the gallery.
“Guys, you won't believe what I found out about what Clarkson's been doing,” she said, as she approached them.
Lucinda jumped in surprise at her abrupt appearance and interruption of her conversation, but gestured to the small table near the wooden bar that Vince had carved. They sat around the table as Frances opened the laptop.
“You know that he's been listing the café on real estate websites with old pictures, and he's been getting low-ball offers from potential buyers. Well…I kind of guessed the password to his account on one of the websites,” Frances said, feeling a sense of satisfaction that she was able to outsmart Clarkson mixed with a stab of guilt over the questionable ethics of the situation. “But that's not even the worst part.”
Vincent leaned forward, intrigued. “What do you mean?”
“I also figured out how to get into the email he used for the fake listings,” she said. “He used the same password on both, and I happened to be online when someone chatted at him—linking me to his insider’s club. He's got a properly done listing on there, and this guy offered seven figures! But get this, the guy thinks it's off-market.”
“Off-market?” Lucinda exclaimed, “…but it's listed!”
“Listed without a publicly visible address,” Frances said. “And none of the shots show the exterior. I think he was getting those offers in to bait me.”
“But why?” Vincent asked. “What's the point?”
Lucinda snorted. “Because he's a criminal. He's using these shitty offers to show Frances. Then he'll offer her something slightly less disgraceful to 'save her' from the burden of the place—then turn around and sell it fully renovated to one of these jokers.”
“It's disgusting,” Frances said, shaking her head in disbelief. “But I do think that's his plan.”
The laptop pinged, a new message from GunnerBKing.
“Dude, you need to be more clear in the description—who are you thinking is going to buy this place without a loan check? There's way too much leverage involved for me. I'm revoking my offer. I'll reconsider if you can clear the debt like you did last time, before we talk business.”
Frances read the message aloud and stood abruptly.
“What loans?” Lucinda exclaimed, just as Vincent did the same, but slightly louder.
Frances hushed them. She didn’t need customers overhearing. She turned her head to check the place out. It was mercifully empty. She couldn’t think—there couldn’t possibly be loans on the place…right?
“Where did you see loans?” she typed, leaning one hand on the table as she did so.
“Basic title search, bro. Come on, you're better than that,” GunnerBKing replied almost instantly. “Get the prop clean and then talk to me, but if DevBro contacts you, let me know. I was here first, right?”
Lucinda's face appeared next to hers. “DevBro?” she said in a mocking tone.
Frances couldn’t even bring herself to reply, instead she stood up straight and started to pace back and forth as she fumbled with her phone.
“What are you doing now?” Lucinda asked.
With the phone now pressed against her ear, she said in a wavering voice, “Calling BHC.”
“BHC?” Vincent asked.
“Her accountant,” Lucinda said doubtfully. “But I don't know how he can help...”
“Because I've been using them for fifteen years. I was Adam's first client when he got his license. He'll help me.”
Finally, after what felt like an hour, Adam picked up.
“Hello, Frances, it's been a long while! How can I help you today?” Adam said in his usual professional tone.
