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.”
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.
