“The murders would be a factor affecting the sale price,” Dino said. “If they didn’t disclose them, you might be able to get him out of the deal.”
“If I were on the other side of the deal, I’d say that a two-million-dollar discount ought to cover the, ah, incident.”
“But you’re not on the other side of the deal.”
Stone took a swig of his drink. “I’m not going to think about this now. Tomorrow is soon enough.”
Herbie and Sheila walked into Elaine’s.
“Oh, shit,” Stone said.
The couple stopped at Stone’s table. “Hi, Stone,” Herbie said. “You remember Sheila.” Herbie was reaching for one of the two empty chairs.
STONE PUT A leg up on one of the chairs. “Sore knee,” he said to Herbie. “Good evening, Sheila.”
&nbs
p; Sheila turned to Herbie. “They don’t want us to sit here; let’s sit in the back.”
“Herbie,” Stone said, “when you put down the deposit on the apartment, did you sign anything?”
Herbie looked thoughtful. “Yeah,” he said, slapping his pockets and coming up with an envelope.
Stone took the envelope. “I’d better look this over,” he said. “See you later.” He turned back to his drink, and Herbie took the hint, for a change.
“You going to open the envelope?” Dino asked.
“Not until I’ve had another drink,” Stone said, waving at a waiter, who was way ahead of him. Stone took a sip of his second drink and opened the envelope. “Here it is,” he said, reading from the document: “ ‘Seller acknowledges that he is aware of the previous owners’ deaths by violence in the apartment and that his offer is made with due consideration of market consequences of that event.’ ”
“I guess you could call that disclosure,” Dino said, “even though it doesn’t mention the meat cleavers or machetes.”
“I guess you could,” Stone said. “Excuse me for a minute.” He got up and walked back to Herbie’s table. “May I sit down for a moment?” he asked.
“No,” Sheila said.
“Sure,” Herbie said.
Stone decided to ignore Sheila and sat down. He handed Herbie the disclosure agreement. “Read paragraph eleven,” he said.
Herbie read it. “What does this mean?” he asked.
“It means that the previous owners were murdered in the apartment, hacked to death with meat cleavers.”
“Omigod!” Sheila shrieked. “It’s that building? You read about that in the Post, didn’t you, Herbie?”
“Ah, no,” Herbie said.
“But,” Stone interjected, “you did read about it in this disclosure agreement that you signed when you gave the agent your check for three hundred and fifty thousand dollars?”
“Well…”
“Herbie,” Sheila said, “are you insane?”
“Now, wait a minute, Sheila.”
“Yes,” Stone said, “wait a minute, Sheila. Herbie got a two-million-dollar discount on the apartment because of the murders. That should make you feel better about the deal.”
“I don’t give a shit about the murders,” Sheila said. “What I do give a shit about are the ghosts! For God’s sake, don’t you two guys ever read a newspaper?”