The Darkness - Jason Pinter [22]
don't have any records for a 718 Enterprises. Are you sure
you have the right realty corporation?"
"You do manage the building leases at sixteen-twenty
Avenue of the Americas, right?"
"Now that sounds familiar. If my memory serves me,
they have a wonderful tantric yoga studio." She blushed
slightly. I pretended not to have heard anything.
"That's the building," Jack said. "Listen, hon," he continued, approaching the desk, a warm smile on his face.
It was shocking to compare this to his countenance
downstairs. Different folks responded to different temperaments. Jack didn't get his reputation by assuming
everyone reacted the same way to everything. "We're not
here to cause trouble. We're investigating a story for our
newspapers, it's our job, really, and we just have a few
questions about the building. If you could just let us know
who manages that property, we'll be out of your hair in
no time. What do you say?"
The apple-cheeked receptionist smiled, and if I didn't
know any better, it looked like she might have suddenly
developed a small crush on the elder newsman. "Hold on
one second. If you'll have a seat, I'll have somebody out
here to assist you right away."
"You've made my day, darlin'." Her smile widened.
The Darkness
65
We took seats in two leather chairs. I shuffled through
a pile of uninteresting magazines before putting them
back. Jack just sat there. He didn't need any distractions.
After thumbing through the pile of outdated magazines
for a second time--in case Victorian Homes had magically been replaced by Sports Illustrated--a middle-aged
man with a short haircut and mustache entered the waiting room. His eyes settled on us, and I caught him taking
a deep breath. He wasn't making any secret that he didn't
want to be talking to us, and resented the fact that we were
even here.
I stood up, assumed Jack would do the same. When he
didn't, I looked at him. He didn't seem to have noticed there
was someone else in the room; either that or he didn't care.
"Mr. O'Donnell?" the man said. Now Jack's eyes
perked up. He didn't say a word, waited for the other man
to speak. "Bill Talcott. How can I help you?"
Jack stood up. Gave Talcott a once-over, sizing him up.
Talcott shifted as he stood there, eyes meeting the floor.
Jack was trying to make the guy nervous, take him out of
any comfort zone he might have. It didn't look like Talcott
had much of one when he joined us, but I guess Jack
wanted to break his spirit completely.
"Thanks for finally joining us," Jack said.
"My apologies for the wait." He glanced at Iris with a
condescending, apologetic smile, as though blaming her
for the delay. Iris didn't look up from her desk. This did
not paint Mr. Talcott in an impressive light.
"Actually Iris was quite helpful," Jack said. I noticed
Iris's face look up slightly. "You have no need to embarrass her. Or yourself."
Talcott's face went pink, and he stammered. "Of
course, I didn't mean to put anybody down. We're all
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Jason Pinter
under an enormous amount of stress these days, as you
can imagine. And if I can say so, without embarrassing
myself again, I'm a fan of your work, Mr. O'Donnell."
Jack nodded, but did not respond to the compliment.
"Should we go somewhere more private?" he said.
"Is this an issue that requires privacy?" Talcott said,
confused.
"I'd say so."
Talcott nodded, said, "Right this way." We followed
him down the hallway behind the reception desk. The
corridor was filled with gray metal filing cabinets. A few
people stood by, filing, rifling through papers with a
quickness that said they'd done it for years. On the walls
hung pictures of buildings. Some residential, some commercial, obviously the properties Orchid Realty managed.
We passed by a small kitchen and a large conference
room, and eventually were led into Talcott's office. He
ushered us in and closed the door. There were two leather
chairs in front of a heavy marble desk. The desk, as well
as the windowsills