‘Just down the road, Playa Hedor, we make a small project with just twenty apartments, maybe twelve not sold and it is almost completed. Maybe it will suit somebody who wants an apartment immediately, and it is not so expensive also.’
Tom liked the look of the developer, he seemed to be an honest and open kind of guy, and he was obviously a friend of Marco’s. ‘Give me an hour here with Marco and I’ll drop by your site and have a talk, say twelve thirty?’
‘Ok, Ha’ Luego.’
Marco gestured in the direction of his friend’s departure. ‘Nice guy, normally I would say that his problem is his problem, but maybe it’s no harm to help him a little. I think we sell the full project easily anyway, especially if the Irish woman buys the full block. You think she will buy it?’
‘I’m not sure, I’d be hopeful though. I mean, she would hardly have come out here for two days unless she was serious.’
‘Yes, when she is spending her own money to view the project, is not for fun, no?’
‘It wasn’t her own money, it was ours.’
‘Oh, that is not so good, but we live in hope, yes?’
Tom almost drove past Playa Hedor, but spotted the half-hidden sign at the last minute and turned down the gravel drive to the small site office. This was no Playa Verde, no fancy marketing suite and tarmac site roads, but the apartment block was well designed and looked to be well built, low rise and in a horseshoe shape around a small garden with a pool. The landscapers were hard at work, using a mobile crane to hoist large palm trees into position; this would look like a mature site in a matter of weeks.
Juan Carlos led him through the apartment block and pointed out the features of the units. All were well finished, and all had a southerly aspect with views towards the sea in the distance. The place lacked the scale of Playa Verde, and didn’t have the golf course and hotel, but it wasn’t bad at all.
‘This is very good, compares well with Marco’s place, and all south facing. Everyone wants south facing, should be easy to sell these, I reckon. Nice job.’
The Spaniard beamed with pride. ‘I am a small operator, not like Marco, but I am a builder all my life and I like to build good projects.’
‘So, how much do you want for these, and how much commission are you paying?’
‘I think maybe ten percent less per square meter than Playa Verde, and I pay of course the normal two percent.’
Tom smiled. ‘There’s no way we could do it for that kind of money, but maybe we can come up with a plan to get you your money and give us our ten percent.’
‘Ten percent! No, no, Senor Tom, never could I pay this kind of commission; it is most of my profit you understand. No. I am sorry, I can get local agent to sell for me at two percent.’
‘Yes, but they haven’t sold it for you, have they? I think we can solve your problem and also ours.’
The older man shook his head. ‘Ten percent, not possible.’
‘Let me explain my idea.’ Tom was beginning to form a strategy that would give the developer a better price and at the same time provide Sunspots with a decent commission on any sales that might arise. ‘We can market Playa Hedor as an exclusive development, at say twenty percent more than Playa Verde, and we take ten percent of the selling price. You make a lot more money as well.’
The Spaniard rubbed his head in amazement. ‘You really think people will pay so much, this is just a normal project, not exclusive at all; why would people pay more?’
‘People always think that more expensive is better. When I used to sell cars, and we had maybe three cars the same, we always marked one of them more expensive and it always was the one that people wanted. Do you want to try my idea? After all, you are selling these too slowly and you need to clear them out and get on to your next job.’
‘Ok, I try your way. What do I have to do?’
‘Nothing, we will do it all. I’ll take some pictures and you need to give me any artist’s drawings of the project and any other publicity material you have. Also, you must immediately remove the project from the local agent and get him to delete it from his website; we have to have exclusivity and we can’t have it on sale at two prices.’
Juan Carlos smiled broadly. ‘Ok, Senor Tom. We try it your way for three months, but we need sales badly, so do your best please.’
Tom shook hands with the Spaniard. ‘Six months or nothing, but we will sell it, don’t worry.’
The big billboards along the motorway were more frequent than he had remembered from the last time; they advertised new developments all along the coast. There was definitely a surge of new projects coming on stream in the Costa del Sol. A lot of them were now being built out close to the motorway, away from the beach but surrounded by new golf courses. There would be no shortage of product if the demand for Spanish property kept growing.
He braked and turned off at the Calahonda exit; there was plenty of time to spare before the flight and he wanted to check out the timeshare project at Pueblo Alto Blanco, to see if it was nearly finished and whether Alan and his sales team were still working there. A couple of minutes brought him to the narrow road leading up the hill, and he swung the rental car off the road and into the car park of the Pueblo.
The sales office was closed, no sign of Alan, and all the signs had been removed from the windows. The second and third blocks looked to be more or less complete, and the site fence had been moved back to the front of the fourth building. The builders were busy on the site, and Tom was glad to see that all the apartments looked like they would be delivered, and quite soon at that. He peered in through the window of the sales office to see if there might be anyone around.
‘That’s him, that’s one of them.’
Tom didn’t realise at first that the woman was referring to him; he was stepping back from the office when he saw her reflection in the glass. She was rushing towards him, an elderly grey-haired woman in pink shorts and a yellow tee shirt, followed by a woman of similar years in a floral print summer dress who was waddling from side to side as she struggled to keep up with her.
He turned away from the building and looked in astonishment at the woman who was hurrying in his direction. She looked to be in her late sixties, at least, and from her accent it was clear that she was English. She didn’t look too happy.
‘You, you’re the one, bloody crook. I’m getting the police for you, you thief.’
‘Are you talking to me? What are you talking about?’
The woman was breathless from running, and she found it hard to get the words out.
‘You stole. Our money. Thief!’
‘I stole nothing. What are you talking about?’
By this time the other woman had arrived to join them. She was calmer, and she spoke quietly.
‘You sold a timeshare to my sister and her husband, and now he has passed on and she needs to sell it back. She really needs the money.’
‘So, what’s stopping her? I’m not a thief; she got what she paid for didn’t she?’ I don’t like being called a thief. I’m sorry about your husband madam by the way.’
‘Thank you. But what about my money? Will you give it back to me?’
‘I only worked for the company, I don’t know anything about resales, you’ll have to talk to them. I don’t work for them any more.’
‘Stop pretending that you don’t know about it, it was a deliberate crime, the police know about it. You’re all going to jail.’
‘I’m not aware of any crime, we sold fractional ownerships of apartments here, that’s all I know.’
‘You did, and you sold a lot of them twice too. That’s how you swindled us.’
‘Twice? That’s the first I heard of anything like that. Are you serious?’
‘Bloody right I’m serious, sorry for the swearing, but we’ve lost our life savings and I’m going to lose my house in England because I can’t pay the mortgage on my pension. I doubt very much if you don’t know about it.’
‘I don’t, really. I
only worked here; I’m as shocked as you are. What happened?’
‘You must know. All the apartments in the first block were sold twice. They had been sold originally to various people and then the developer went bankrupt, but the people that bought them still owned them because they had paid for them and the ownership was registered. You and your friends sold timeshares in them, but you had no right to sell them, and we lost our money. I can’t believe you didn’t know.’
The woman sat down heavily on the steps and started to cry. Her shoulders slumped and she looked old and beaten. Her sister put her arms around her shoulders and looked up at Tom.
‘May the good Lord forgive you all, you greedy people. Do you not care about ruining people’s lives?’
Tom was shocked at what Alan had done, but he knew that he needed to talk his way out of this situation as quickly as possible. He was going to take the rap for Alan Merchant’s shady dealings if he didn’t think fast.
‘I really knew nothing about all of this, I just worked here and I was laid off a few months ago. I came back today to see if I could get my wages. I wasn’t paid for my last two months. I thought that there would be someone here today, they’re usually here about six o’clock every evening.’
They were wavering; he could see that they wanted to believe him. A little more of the sales pitch and he would be able to get out if here before the police were called and he found himself in a Spanish jail.
‘It’s nearly five o’clock now; I’m hoping they’ll be here in an hour. I have a dentist’s appointment in ten minutes, but it would be great if you could hang on here until I get back, delay them for a few minutes so that I can tackle them about my wages. And your money too of course.’
They cheered a little at his words; the woman looked up at him gratefully.
‘I’m sorry for attacking you; you’re as much a victim as we are. Will you really help us to get our money?’
‘Of course, just delay them for me in case I’m not back at six. I’d better rush off or I’ll be late back.’
‘You do that, get moving and hurry back. You’re a good lad.’
Tom’s legs were shaking as he ran to the car and headed off down the hill. He looked in the mirror to see if they had taken his number, but there was no sign of them looking in his direction. The two elderly women sat forlornly on the steps of the apartment block, looking lost and bewildered. It was impossible not to feel sorry for them, but he needed to get out of there and catch his flight. He felt his stomach heaving; just before he joined the motorway he pulled over to the side and got out of the car, and vomited on the verge. He didn’t know if it was the shock of the meeting with the two women, or the amount of drink he had consumed the night before, but he didn’t feel good at all. He got back in the car and headed for the airport.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Harry was sceptical. ‘Playa Hedor? Why did you take on such a small project? It’s hardly worth our while and it only diverts buyers from Playa Verde.’
‘We had no choice. If someone like Sean Simpson got hold of it and started selling it at the price that Juan Carlos wanted for it, we’d look bad.’
‘You’re right, never thought of it like that, it’s too close to Playa Verde and people would make comparisons all right.’
‘Apart from that, we needed a project on our books that would make Playa Verde look cheap, and by persuading him to raise his prices to twenty percent above ours we make our stuff look like it’s great value.’
Harry raised his hands. ‘I should have known better than to question your call on it, it makes sense to me when you put it like that. Do you think we’ll sell any of it though? You only have six months exclusivity on it and he’ll start to sweat even earlier than that if we don’t deliver a few sales.’
‘I reckon we can sell a few no problem, people always want the more expensive option. Anyway we can always invent a few sales to keep him happy; we’ll be out of Playa Verde in well less than six months, especially if Miz Sherry comes across. Once we’re out of the big project, Juan Carlos’ problems won’t be my problems.’
‘What about the client, do you think she’ll deliver, did she like the project?’
‘She liked it all right, but she was bloody hard work. Next time you can do it, or send Walter, I’m knackered keeping her entertained for the last couple of days.’
‘Do you think she is serious though?’
‘I did, but Marco put a doubt into my mind when he asked if she paid her own way to Spain. He was a bit dubious when he heard that we picked up the tab. We’ll have to wait and see; if she hasn’t got back to me by the weekend I’ll call her Monday morning.’
‘That’s all we can do, in the meantime let’s try to clear out block four this weekend. Life goes on.’
The client sitting across the desk was new, but the type was familiar enough. Tom and Walter had started compiling a list of buyer types to pass the quiet periods that seemed to hit the shows from time to time. It was usually ‘a feast or a famine’ as Harry described it; they were either overrun with buyers or the ballroom was quiet. It did give them a chance to grab a sandwich and a coffee before the crowds descended on them again, and it allowed them to share a joke or two, usually at the expense of the buyers.
Walter had started it; he had devised a categorisation system that could be used to describe every client that came into the room by putting them into half a dozen different categories. Everything from ‘The Quiet Man’ who was reluctant to part with any personal details to ‘Johnny Cash,’ who wanted to use his Spanish property purchase to launder a large wad of cash.
This one was definitely a ‘Dirty Sanchez.’ He sat in front of Tom but seemed to be focussing his gaze at a spot on the wall some distance behind the salesman; he didn’t want to look anyone in the eye.
‘What’s the story in this place, is it worth buying there for the, you know yourself?’
Tom wasn’t going to humour him, but a sale was a sale. ‘I’m not with you, worth it for what exactly?’
‘Ah you know, is there good pickings around there?
‘Pickings?’
‘For birds like?’
Tom looked him over. The buyer was a florid faced man, probably in his mid fifties, and with black hair slicked down with oil and combed over to cover a bald patch. Tom decided to humour him; he leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘Oh yes, best part of Spain for women, the place is full of them.’
‘And is there a good few birdhouses around there?’
‘Birdhouses?’ Tom was not too sure what he meant.
‘Ah you know, birdhouses.’ He dropped his voice even lower. ‘Jiggy jig houses, you know yourself.’
The penny dropped with Tom, he had never heard either term before, but it was clear enough what the man wanted, a home in the sun with a few brothels nearby. If that’s what he wants, that’s what he’ll get, he mused. ‘Of course sir, the place around there is wall to wall em, birdhouses. Yes, lots of birdhouses in that area, you wouldn’t have to go too far for some jiggy jig.’
The man relaxed a bit. ‘I have a few quid, want to buy something out foreign, and I heard the birds in Spain were, you know yourself.’ He sniggered knowingly.
Tom wondered if this old fool had any idea of what a ridiculous figure he presented. Overweight and middle aged, his comb-over hairstyle crowning a bright red face, he was hardly some woman’s ideal man. Still, he had ‘a few quid,’ and Tom would now separate him from it as quickly as possible.
‘These properties will be ready in less than two years, but you might like to make a few visits between now and then to check on progress. I’m sure Mrs…’ he looked at the sheet where he had written the details …’Mrs. O’Reilly will understand that you will need to make a few business trips to the area.’
The old fool was on the hook, he figured that Tom was a man who understood. ‘Inspect a few birdhouses as well, hehe.’
‘Yes indeed, you could do that for sure. The Spanish girls like Irish busin
essmen.’
‘Do they, is that a fact? I heard that all right. You’re a man of the world, I can see that. Can you advise me maybe what’s the best value in this place?’
Tom flipped through the floor plans, looking for the special unit. Every development had what they called a ‘special’ apartment, one that would never sell once the place was built but which might just possibly be shifted off plan. He found it on the ground floor, the apartment that bridged the underground ramp to the parking garage; anyone living in that place would have to put up with the constant noise of the automatic gate opening and closing.
‘Look at this one.’ Tom put on his most friendly tone. ‘Great apartment, ground floor and east facing, gets the morning sun. Always buy east facing if you can, easier to resell. Great place to bring an auld bird as well, you know yourself.’
‘Is that the best one in it?’
‘There are others, but none of them as good as this one; there’s no point in me offering anything less to a businessman like yourself. It’s definitely the best one that’s left; will I put your name on it?’
‘I like your style, I’ll take that one so. Let the good times roll, what?’
The woman was reluctant, he knew that he almost had her but she was holding back. You got customers like this some days; they wanted a property in Spain, and they had the money, but there was never a good time for them to make a final decision and they would happily go from agency to agency for years without committing. They had to be given a huge push to dislodge them from their positions, and Tom had a few weapons in his armoury that usually could be counted on to shift them. This one though would need a fairly hefty prod.
‘The next phase will cost fifteen percent more, so in other words you can save money now and the property will be worth at least fifteen percent more when it is complete.’ That often worked.
‘I’m just not sure, I mean they seem like good value, but how do I know that they are worth what you are asking? They might seem cheap by our standards, but they might be very expensive over there.’
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