by John Holt
By the time he had reached the first floor landing he was in full voice.
“Yes,” he murmured, as he reached the bedroom door. “It was certainly going to be a wonderful day. In fact it’s going to be good from now on.” Things were, at last beginning to go their way. It was going to be all right, he decided. Back on the kitchen table was a large brown envelope untouched. It looked official. On the front of the envelope, in the left hand corner, were two words - Latimer Holdings.
* * *
George MacDonald was in financial trouble, deep financial trouble. Seven years ago he had lost a considerable amount of money, as a result of a stock market fraud. He, like many others, had never fully recovered. He had borrowed heavily, to pay his bills. No matter how hard he had tried, it was a constant struggle to recover. Each day he seemed to sink deeper and deeper. Every day seemed to bring in more problems, more bills to pay.
He had been up all the previous night with the latest problem, a sick animal. Doctor Hallett, the local veterinarian, was out in the barn now. He had been there since three o’clock that morning. This was going to be expensive, and he was no longer covered by insurance. He hadn’t been able to keep up the premiums.
What could he do? He had to carry on. He had no choice. Sure the neighbors had offered to help out. They had been great, doing what they could. But he couldn’t expect too much, not all the time. It just wasn’t fair, he knew that. Besides he didn’t want to be a burden on his friends, constantly accepting handouts. Something would turn up, one day. It just had to.
Suddenly he heard the door flap rattle, and a number of letters were pushed through, dropping loudly on to the hallway floor. There were four letters altogether. He bent down to pick them up. Instinctively he knew that three of them were more bills. He looked at them in turn. He was right. The first item was a final demand from the local electricity company. He had seven days to pay, or the power would be cut off. Then there was a telephone bill, and finally a small repair bill on the car. He placed them on the hall bureau. He would pay the first item, but the others would just have to wait a little while longer. Maybe there was something he could sell. Sadly, he shook his head. There was nothing of any great value. Certainly there was nothing that would make much of a difference. He would have to speak to the bank again, and try to get another loan. He wasn’t over hopeful.
What was he to do? He was becoming desperate. He picked up the fourth envelope. It was a large brown envelope. It looked official, and important. Maybe it’s from the Tax office. It looked like one of theirs. More problems, he groaned. That was all that he needed. He hesitated for a few moments. As far as he knew he was up to date on his tax payments. He was sure that he owed them nothing. He looked at the envelope again. It wasn’t from the Internal Revenue Service; it was from someone called Latimer Holdings.
“It’s probably not important, nothing more than a circular,” he thought. He tore the envelope open, and took out the contents. He quickly scanned through the document, and then he suddenly stopped. This wasn’t a circular, and it wasn’t a bill. Nobody was looking for money from him. Nobody was trying to sell him anything. This was actually offering to buy something from him. This was offering to buy his land. To buy it, at what appeared to be a very good price.
He took the letter into the front room, and sat down. He started to read the document again, slowly this time. He was right. This company, whoever they were wanted to buy his property. He turned the envelope over. “Latimer Holdings.” The name meant nothing to him. Whoever they were, they were definitely offering to buy, there was no mistake about that, no error. Furthermore, it was a very good price. It would pay off all of his debts. He would be completely in the clear. He would still have enough to buy a small cottage, and there would be enough over to provide for a small pension. He couldn’t believe it. Excitedly, he called out to his wife and children. He wanted to tell them the whole thing. He looked at the document again, to check. It was right. Something had certainly turned up.
* * *
Dave Lennon had just finished his breakfast, and he had poured a second cup of coffee, when he heard the letters drop through his door. He stood up and walked into the hallway. There were three letters lying on the hall rug. He picked them up and went back into the dining room. He sat back down at the table to finish his coffee. Two of the letters appeared to be the usual ones looking for new ways in which to spend his money. He pushed them to one side.
The third item was a large brown envelope. He picked it up. “Latimer Holdings,” he read. He wondered who they were. He turned the envelope over. There were no other markings. Apart from his name and address there was nothing else on the envelope. There were no indications as to who the company was, or what the envelope contained. It looked like one of those circulars that came from an insurance company, or perhaps a credit card company. The last thing he needed was extra life insurance. And he certainly did not want another credit card. He could barely cope with the one that he had.
More junk, he thought, as he opened the envelope. The clock suddenly struck the hour. No time, not now. I must get on. He was in a hurry this morning. He needed to get into the Town. He had a train to catch. He quickly drank the remains of his coffee. Then he put the envelope down onto the sideboard. He would look at it later. He walked into the hall, took his coat from the hall coat rail, and put it on. He checked that he had everything he needed.
He then called up the stairs. “I’m going now. Be back as soon as I can.” Somebody called back for him to take care, and not to be too late back. He opened the front door. He saw the town bus approaching up the hill, right on time.
* * *
Ben Johnson put the letter he had been reading down, and laid back in his chair. It had been the only letter that morning. There had been none of the usual circulars, and no bills. It was quite a lengthy document, and although he could see what it was basically about, he was having difficulty in concentrating on the detail. He placed his thumb and forefinger to either side of his nose, and gently started to massage. He closed his eyes for a moment. He was tired, weary. And there was that slight pain in his chest again. He had had the pain on a number of times recently. Nothing but indigestion, he said.
His wife, Alice, walked into the room and saw him lying there. She slowly went over to him. He opened his eyes as he heard her approach.
“Are you all right?” she asked gently.
“Just a bit tired,” he replied. He placed his hand over the middle of his chest. “That old indigestion again, that’s all.” She looked at him. He saw how concerned she looked. “I’ll be all right,” he told her. Then he remembered the letter. He picked it up once more. He looked up at her. “This came this morning,” he said, indicating the letter that he was holding. “It’s from a company called Latimer Holdings, whoever they are.”
She said nothing, and sat down beside him. She took the paper from his hand, and started to read. “They want to purchase our property,” she said surprised. She read a little further. “They are offering a large sum of money,” she continued. “In fact it looks like a very good offer.”
“Would you be tempted to sell?” he asked her.
She looked up. “What do you think?” she replied, gently.
“Oh I don’t know,” he replied. He sat silently for a few moments, looking down at his hands. “I hope that you would say no, and that you would not be tempted to sell.” He looked up and turned his face towards her. “I hope that you would tell them that they can take their offer and …”
She started to laugh. “Ben this is our home,” she said. “We have lived here for nearly forty years. We have reared our children here.” She paused and brushed a tear away from her eye. “Your parents lived here, your grandparents before that. You were born here.” She put her arm around him. “There’s no way we will ever sell our home,” she said. “No matter what price they offer, it’s simply not for sale.” She stood up, and looked at him. “Does that answer your question?”
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br /> He smiled at her. “But you have to admit it is a lot of money. Cash like that would certainly come in handy, especially as we aren’t getting any younger.”
“Yes it is a lot of money,” she agreed. “But they could never offer enough to buy my home, and that’s final.” She patted his arm, and stood up. “You have a little rest,” she said. “I’ll put the kettle on.” She looked at him. His hand was still lying on his chest. It’s not indigestion, she thought. “We’re going to see Doc Williams later today, about your so-called indigestion. No argument.” She left the room.
* * *
Henry Raines took his coffee over to the kitchen table. He had a few minutes still before he had to start work. He switched the radio on as he passed by. He turned the dial looking for the news.
“….. front runner Senator Mackenzie will be holding a Press Conference at three o’clock this afternoon. Station KLT will bring you a full report at that time.” There was a slight pause, and the sound of shuffling paper. “Breaking news just in. Twenty three people were injured today, when a car bomb in ….”
Henry switched off the radio. There was never anything but bad news these days. Bombings, shootings, you name it. Law and order seemed to be a thing of the past. Things were getting worse and worse. What did the future hold? The thought of somebody like Mackenzie becoming President did nothing to allay his fears, nothing to boost his ailing confidence. “One’s as bad as the other, but he’s the worst of the lot.”
He switched the radio back on, turning the dial trying to find a music station. He had just found something that sounded reasonable when he was startled by the sound of letters being pushed through his door. He walked through to the hallway, and looked up at the clock. The mail was a little late today. He bent down to pick up the handful of letters when there was a tap at the door. He opened it.
Bob, the mailman was standing there. He had a small parcel in his hand. He offered it to Henry. “I couldn’t get that through your letter flap,” he said.
Henry took hold of the parcel. “Thank you Bob, what would I do without you?”
Bob started to laugh. “Good question,” he replied. “Ask my wife.” He tapped Henry on the shoulder. “I’ll be seeing you Henry,” he said, as he turned and walked towards his van parked at the gateway.
Henry watched until he had driven away, and then closed the door. He walked back into the sitting room. The throb of some rock band was now coming from the music station. He went over to the radio, and switched it off. For what was on he sometimes wondered why he ever bothered with it at all.
He sat down and then started to look through the mail. There were only three letters. One was from his sister in California. She was coming for a visit soon. The letter confirmed that she would arrive in four days time. He was delighted. He hadn’t seen her for almost a year now, but there was a lot to do before she arrived. He picked up the next item. It was a seed catalogue that he had sent away for.
The last item was a large brown envelope. He guessed that it was either from the Government, or an attorney. He carefully opened the flap, and took out the documents that it contained. He glanced through them quickly. Somebody was offering to buy his property. They appeared to be offering a good price. He couldn’t believe it.
“This has to be a confidence trick of some kind. There’s got to be a catch somewhere.” He started to read through again, although more slowly this time. When he had finished he placed the papers back inside the envelope. He couldn’t see any obvious catch, but it was a definite scam. Of that he had no doubt whatsoever. There was no way that he was going to be taken in.
“The Government should take more action to stop this kind of thing,” he murmured. “These people are allowed to get away with everything, and anything, these days.” He placed the envelope in the bottom of the bureau. He vowed to advise his neighbors, and warn them to watch out for similar letters. “Better start getting ready for Jenny’s visit.”
* * *
Frank Miller read through the document for the third time. Somebody was offering to buy his land. From out of the blue, with no prior warning, there was a complete stranger wanting to buy his land. Who were they? Why did they want his property? He had no idea, and the letter gave nothing away. Nonetheless, the offer, if genuine, looked very attractive, very fair, indeed. In fact, it was more than fair. He looked at it again, it certainly seemed genuine enough. At least he couldn’t see anything obviously suspect. Of course there was no proper return address, and only a free-phone number. That seemed a little irregular, a little suspicious perhaps.
It was annoying, certainly; a mild irritation, definitely. Nonetheless it didn’t detract from the main point of the letter. They are not actually asking for anything. They weren’t looking for any money. There was no request for a registration fee. They didn’t want his bank details, at least not yet anyway. He read it through a fourth time. He could find nothing wrong with it. In fact they were offering a payment of twenty-five percent as a non-returnable deposit. It seemed that they were the ones taking the risk.
He was definitely interested. What did he have to lose? He couldn’t think of anything. It seemed to be too good to be true, but as far as he could tell, it was correct. He wondered if his neighbors had received similar letters. He decided to speak with them, but, no matter what they had to say, he had virtually decided that he was going to accept the offer and sell out.
* * *
It was just after eight forty-five. Bill Clancy had just walked out of the house, when the mail van turned in at the gate. Bill waved, and turned to meet it. The van stopped a few yards away, and Bob, the mailman, got out. He turned, and reached back inside the van. A few moments later he re-emerged with a small bundle of letters. He carried them over towards Clancy.
“Hi Bill,” he said. He held up a number of letters in his right hand. “Bills, I’m afraid,” he called out. He handed them to Clancy.
Bob knows as much about my business, as I do, Clancy thought. I wonder if he would care to pay those bills.
Bob was still sorting through the letters. “There you are,” he said, as he handed over another three envelopes. “Junk mail, I’m afraid, Bill.” Picking up the next letter he closely examined the printing on the envelope. “That’s about your bank loan, I reckon,” he said as he handed it over.
Clancy said nothing, but stood bemused. He took hold of the envelope, and examined it closely. It was, indeed, from the bank. “I reckon you’re right, Bob,” he responded. Bob did not hear. He was far too busy checking the last of the letters. After a few moments Clancy asked if there was anything else.
Bob looked up. “Just one more item,” he said, as he held it up. It was a large brown envelope. “It looks official,” he murmured. “From Latimer Holdings, everyone seems to be getting one of those today.”
Clancy looked up, a puzzled look on his face. “What was that you said, Bob?”
“I don’t know what it’s about,” Bob said. “But it seems like everyone in the valley has got that same letter, whatever it is. Probably got one myself waiting for me at home.” With that he turned around and went back to the van. He raised his hand as he walked along. “Be seeing you, Bill,” he called out. He got into the van, switched on the engine, reversed a short distance, turned, and then slowly moved forward. He stopped at the gate, checking left and right for the traffic. He then turned to the left, and in a few moments had gone.
Clancy watched until he was out of sight. He then turned and went back inside the house. He put all of the letters onto the dining table. All of the letters except for the large brown envelope. He looked at the outside. On the left hand corner were two words only, Latimer Holdings. The name meant nothing to him. There was no address. No indication as to who, or what, they were. He turned the envelope over. There was nothing on the back. He turned the envelope over once again. He looked at the address label. It was clearly addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Clancy. He carefully opened the envelope and emptied the contents on to the
table.
There were two identical sets of documents, together with a pre-paid return envelope. The documents contained a detailed description of his land, together with a copy of the Land Office plan. Everything was included, and nothing had been missed out. Somebody had clearly done their homework.
The next section of the document contained a full assessment of the value of the property. It was very detailed, and professionally presented.
The third part was a formal offer to purchase the land. A very generous offer, Clancy had to admit. It was very impressive. He looked up, and out of the window. He could see the recently repaired barn, and beyond to the meadow. He looked at the price once again and let out a low whistle.
The last section gave instructions to be followed should the offer be acceptable. One set of the documents was to be signed, and then returned in the enclosed envelope. Clancy rifled through the papers to retrieve the envelope. He picked it up and looked at the address. It was a box number only. He didn’t like that. It somehow seemed suspicious. If they were genuine they would give a proper address. Why there wasn’t even a proper telephone number.
He might have been tempted to sell, but that put him off. He continued to read. “Following receipt of the signed acceptance form, a non-returnable deposit of 25% would be paid.” That was impressive, Clancy thought, but it still didn’t solve the lack of address problem though. He looked back at the document, his eyes scanning quickly to find where he had got to.
“All legal aspects would be dealt with by Latimer Holdings, at their cost. It is expected that this process will take no more than three weeks. A check for the remaining 75% would then be issued. The land was then to be vacated within three months.”
Clancy took the envelope into the sitting room. “What was it Bob had said? It seems like everyone in the valley has got that same letter.”
It didn’t make any sense. Why should someone want to buy up the whole valley? Clancy decided to speak with Mike Cole, at the Gazette. They would get to the bottom of it. Maybe we can arrange a public meeting at the Town Hall. He would mention it to Mike.