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My whistle cut mid-stream when my brother walked into the elevator. We had a meeting up on the thirty-third floor with our banker and some people about a potential investment. Elliott flashed a phony smile and turned to give me his back as the car doors slid closed. “I have a good tailor who can make you a nice suit.” He buttoned his overpriced suit jacket as he spoke. “If you’d like, I can send you his number.”
Today I’d worn a dress shirt and slacks, in deference to Robert Harmon, the banker with whom we were meeting. He was a good friend of our grandfather’s and deserved the respect of putting on something decent. My asshole brother, on the other hand, deserved nothing.
“Unlike you, I don’t have to drop a load of cash to like myself when I look in the mirror. A personality and tact is a fuck of a lot cheaper than four grand for a suit.”
Elliott snickered. “I’d love to spend this quality time trading jabs with my bastard brother, but we actually have business we should discuss before we arrive upstairs.” I watched him wipe some lint off the front of his jacket in the reflection of the shiny metal doors before continuing. “This isn’t just the annual meeting with Robert. We need him to increase our business line of credit for this investment.”
“For what?”
He sighed. “A hotel in Costa Rica.”
My forehead wrinkled. “A what?”
“There’s a property that’s come available for sale in Costa Rica. It’s priced way below market value and it’s a great investment. Two of the owners who are selling it have come up to talk to us. They’ll give you and Robert the dog and pony show.”
“Okay…so why do you need to involve me at all? You want to invest, invest.”
“We need an increase to our business line of credit to help purchase the property. Which means our little family corporation needs a resolution vote for the increase in our credit line.”
“Why do you need a line of credit business loan? Get a mortgage on the property like you would any other building.”
“It needs to be an all cash deal. No mortgage.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what the seller wants. He’s already got another offer. But he’ll take ours for the same price. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Costa Rica is a growing tourist market.”
“What do you even know about running a hotel?”
“There’s staff. But I’ll spend a lot of time down there making sure things are taken care of properly.”
“Let me guess? Your wife will stay up here in New York. It’ll be like your own little vacation fuck paradise. No thanks.”
The doors slid open, and my brother turned to face me. “Listen to the presentation today before you make any hasty decision. You’ll see. It’s almost too good to be true.”
I shook my head and stepped off the elevator before my brother, stopping to look back at him. “You know what they say about things that seem too good to be true? They probably are.”Something didn’t add up. Two of the owners made an hour-and-a-half presentation, yet it seemed more like a timeshare sales pitch for a vacation resort than any business proposal. The hotel was nice. There was no denying that. But I couldn’t grasp two important things: why they would sell it if it were such a profitable business, and why the purchase couldn’t have a mortgage.
“The place is beautiful. But I have a couple of questions.”
My father and brother made a face.
“Shoot,” said the owner, who’d done most of the talking. “We’re here to answer whatever questions you have.”
“Alright. Edward and Elliott are interested in the property. I’m not interested in taking over something that I know nothing about.”
My brother mumbled, “That never stopped you before.”
I didn’t even turn my head to acknowledge Elliott. “Anyway. It’s my understanding that this deal has to be a cash deal, rather than a mortgage. Which means the financing would be a business line of credit—which, in turn, means my interest in Vanderhaus Holdings is on the hook for this venture, as well. So I’d like to understand why the property can’t be mortgaged.”
The two men looked at each other and then to Elliott. It was my brother who answered my question. “There are a few investor-owners who prefer a discreet transaction. They’re not listed on the legal documents as owners. And then there’s a small issue with the IRS for one of the listed investors.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How small?”
One of the two selling investors responded. “The transaction needs to be cash, or the funds are going to be confiscated by the government because of a tax judgment. Don’t worry…the Costa Rica property itself doesn’t have any liens. Just one of our investors.”
Did my brother ever get involved in anything that wasn’t shady as shit?
