wise with me,” he said, “or I’ll ram those gas stations clear down your throat, you hear me?”
“Cut it out, Ollie,” Hawes said.
“You keep out of this,” Ollie said. “You hear me, Mr. Robinson Worthy, or do you hear me?”
“Yes, I hear you,” Worthy said.
“What’d Harrod really do for this bullshit operation?”
“He took pictures of abandoned tenements that we…”
“Don’t give me any crap about your development company. You and your friend here probably got records as long as…”
“That is not true,” Worthy said.
“Shut up till I’m finished talking,” Ollie said.
“Let go of him,” Hawes said.
“Go on home,” Ollie said over his shoulder. His fist was still clamped into Worthy’s shirtfront, and he was still holding him pinned to the wall like one of his own architectural drawings. “The stiff downstairs is mine, and I’ll handle this any way I want to.”
“I’ll give you thirty seconds to turn him loose,” Hawes said. “After that, I’m calling in to file departmental charges.”
“Charges?” Ollie said. “ What charges? This man is running a phony bullshit operation here, and he’s scared to death I’m going to find out just what he’s covering. Ain’t that right, Mr. Robinson Worthy?”
“No, that’s not right,” Worthy said.
Hawes walked slowly and deliberately to the telephone on one corner of the desk. He lifted the receiver, dialed Frederick 7-8024, and said, “Dave, this is Cotton Hawes. We’ve got a police officer manhandling a witness here—unnecessary use of force and abuse of authority. Let me talk to the lieutenant, please.”
“Whose side are you on, anyway?” Ollie said, but he released Worthy’s shirtfront. “Put up the phone, I was just having a little fun. Mr. Worthy knows I was just kidding around. Don’t you, Mr. Worthy?”
“No, I don’t,” Worthy said.
“Put up the phone,” Ollie said.
Hawes replaced the phone on its cradle.
“Sure,” Ollie said. He sniffed once, tucked his shirt back into his trousers where it had ridden up over his belt, and then walked to the door. “I’ll be back, Mr. Worthy,” he said. “Soon as I find out a little more about this company here. See you, huh?” He waved to Hawes and walked out.
“You okay?” Hawes asked Worthy.
“I’m fine.”
“Were you telling the truth? Did Charlie Harrod really take pictures for you?”
“That’s what he did,” Worthy said. “We’re looking for buildings that’ve been abandoned. Once we find them, we do title searches and then try to locate the landlords—which isn’t always an easy job. If we can get to them before the city repossesses a building…” Worthy paused. In explanation, he said, “If a building’s been abandoned, you see, the landlord stops paying taxes on it, and the city can foreclose.”
“Yes, I know that,” Hawes said.
“What the city does then is offer the building to any city agency that might want to use it. If none of them want it, the city offers it for sale at public auction. They have seven or eight of these auctions every year, usually at one of the big hotels downtown. Trouble is, you get into a bidding situation then, and so we try to find the landlord before it comes to that.”
“What do you do when you find him?” Hawes asked.
“We offer to take the building off his hands. Pay the back taxes for him, give him a little cash besides, to sweeten the pot and make it worth his while. Usually, he’s delighted to go along. You’ve got to remember that he abandoned the building in the first place.”
“What do you use for capital?” Hawes asked.
“We’re privately financed. There are black men in Diamondback with money to invest in projects such as this. The return they expect on an investment is only slightly more than we would pay a bank for interest on a loan.”
“Then why not go to a bank?”
“We’ve been to every bank in the city,” Chase said.
“None of them seem too
“Cut it out, Ollie,” Hawes said.
“You keep out of this,” Ollie said. “You hear me, Mr. Robinson Worthy, or do you hear me?”
“Yes, I hear you,” Worthy said.
“What’d Harrod really do for this bullshit operation?”
“He took pictures of abandoned tenements that we…”
“Don’t give me any crap about your development company. You and your friend here probably got records as long as…”
“That is not true,” Worthy said.
“Shut up till I’m finished talking,” Ollie said.
“Let go of him,” Hawes said.
“Go on home,” Ollie said over his shoulder. His fist was still clamped into Worthy’s shirtfront, and he was still holding him pinned to the wall like one of his own architectural drawings. “The stiff downstairs is mine, and I’ll handle this any way I want to.”
“I’ll give you thirty seconds to turn him loose,” Hawes said. “After that, I’m calling in to file departmental charges.”
“Charges?” Ollie said. “ What charges? This man is running a phony bullshit operation here, and he’s scared to death I’m going to find out just what he’s covering. Ain’t that right, Mr. Robinson Worthy?”
“No, that’s not right,” Worthy said.
Hawes walked slowly and deliberately to the telephone on one corner of the desk. He lifted the receiver, dialed Frederick 7-8024, and said, “Dave, this is Cotton Hawes. We’ve got a police officer manhandling a witness here—unnecessary use of force and abuse of authority. Let me talk to the lieutenant, please.”
“Whose side are you on, anyway?” Ollie said, but he released Worthy’s shirtfront. “Put up the phone, I was just having a little fun. Mr. Worthy knows I was just kidding around. Don’t you, Mr. Worthy?”
“No, I don’t,” Worthy said.
“Put up the phone,” Ollie said.
Hawes replaced the phone on its cradle.
“Sure,” Ollie said. He sniffed once, tucked his shirt back into his trousers where it had ridden up over his belt, and then walked to the door. “I’ll be back, Mr. Worthy,” he said. “Soon as I find out a little more about this company here. See you, huh?” He waved to Hawes and walked out.
“You okay?” Hawes asked Worthy.
“I’m fine.”
“Were you telling the truth? Did Charlie Harrod really take pictures for you?”
“That’s what he did,” Worthy said. “We’re looking for buildings that’ve been abandoned. Once we find them, we do title searches and then try to locate the landlords—which isn’t always an easy job. If we can get to them before the city repossesses a building…” Worthy paused. In explanation, he said, “If a building’s been abandoned, you see, the landlord stops paying taxes on it, and the city can foreclose.”
“Yes, I know that,” Hawes said.
“What the city does then is offer the building to any city agency that might want to use it. If none of them want it, the city offers it for sale at public auction. They have seven or eight of these auctions every year, usually at one of the big hotels downtown. Trouble is, you get into a bidding situation then, and so we try to find the landlord before it comes to that.”
“What do you do when you find him?” Hawes asked.
“We offer to take the building off his hands. Pay the back taxes for him, give him a little cash besides, to sweeten the pot and make it worth his while. Usually, he’s delighted to go along. You’ve got to remember that he abandoned the building in the first place.”
“What do you use for capital?” Hawes asked.
“We’re privately financed. There are black men in Diamondback with money to invest in projects such as this. The return they expect on an investment is only slightly more than we would pay a bank for interest on a loan.”
“Then why not go to a bank?”
“We’ve been to every bank in the city,” Chase said.
“None of them seem too
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