Devlin Haskell: Bulldog Part 7

Another beer, sir, our waiter asked.

I nodded.

Madam?

I think a gla.s.s of wine.

Ill spring for a bottle if youre interested.

No, Ill just stick with the gla.s.s, she said then ordered a wine I couldnt p.r.o.nounce.

So you got it, your abstract?

She nodded and pulled a doc.u.ment out of her purse. Dont spill anything on this, Dev, its the only copy and its got stuff in there from before Minnesota was even a state, all the way back to the 1840s.

She had the thing wrapped in a Ziploc bag and pa.s.sed it across the table to me like she was handing over a newborn infant. It was a dog-eared doc.u.ment with a faded green cover. I opened the first page and it led off with a legal property description from 1849. Minnesota didnt become a state until almost ten years later in 1858. Caseys home was built in 1885 by a guy named J. W. Stevens. His family apparently had it until 1916. I flipped through a number of pages, largely legal beagle stuff then I looked up at Casey.

The last entry here is for 1983, Norman Speer. You didnt buy your house from the Speer family, did you?

I told you, I cant remember who we bought it from. I never met them, they werent at the closing. It was just that sleazy lawyer guy.

Jackie Van Dorn.

Creepy Van Dorn, if you ask me.

No argument from me, but hes not going to give us the sellers name, client privilege and all that stuff. d.a.m.n it, I thought the info would be on the property abstract.

Casey sort of rolled her eyes and said, What? Youve got to be kidding, Dev, they havent been doing that since like forever. Youre thinking back to the days when a bunch of little men with green visors and garters around their sleeves sat at high desks and wrote this stuff out under candlelight. h.e.l.lo, time to update. G.o.d and you dont text either, surprise, surprise. Its all computerized now, time to move into the new century.

Why even have this thing? I said pointing to the abstract. Thats just great, I said suggesting anything but, then I took a healthy swallow of beer.

Well, historical record just for a start, Dev. I thought thats why you wanted it, to get a little history of our house. Her eyes suddenly watered and she sounded on the verge of an emotional moment.

It will be interesting to page through, Casey. I was just hoping to learn who you purchased the home from, thats all. I must not have made myself clear.

Oh, you probably did, its just that Ive been such a wreck ever since and then her voice trailed off. Her face flushed and she bit her lower lip to keep in control.

I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. I want to read this and Louie wanted to, too. Youre right, it is interesting, its just that theres no romance on the computer, at least for guys like me.

Well, except for all the p.o.r.n you probably watch, she laughed then took a sip of wine and seemed to get back under control.

There is that, I said.

Chapter Nineteen.

My back was to the office door when Louie came in. I had the binoculars up and was watching one of the women across the street making what looked to be a mug of tea. She had a short, silky sort of blue robe wrapped loosely around her and I could only hope the steam from the kettle would be so hot that shed take the thing off. No such luck.

That abstract from Casey is on your desk, there.

Cool, Louie said then put his briefcase down, poured himself a mug of coffee and settled into his desk chair. He pulled the abstract out of the Ziploc bag.

Shes already yelled at me about spilling anything on it, so dont. Besides, its not going to tell you a d.a.m.n thing, anyway.

I just love these things, theyre such a slice of history, Dev. The day to day lives it reflects, the people that first settled here. Just think, no running water, no electricity, no phones.

Yeah, sounds great, not. The woman across the way grabbed her mug and strutted s.e.xily out of the kitchen. She began to remove her robe just as she walked into another room and vanished from sight.

I turned to face Louie. I thought that thing would tell us who Casey and Dermot bought their house from, the thing is worthless on that count.

Louie stared at me for a long moment then said, They havent been listing that on abstracts for the last quarter of a century. Where have you been?

Ive been busy.

Starring out the window is what youve been doing. Staring as life just continues to pa.s.s you by, Dev. Come on, get with the program, h.e.l.l, get with any program, he said then chuckled.

How did we get from Caseys abstract to me being a b.u.m? Dont answer that, and dont spill anything, d.a.m.n it, sh.e.l.l kill me.

Louie flipped the faded green cover back then nodded for a moment as he read. Fantastic, he said to himself then looked up at me again. That information, previous owners, taxes, valuation is a matter of public record.

Yeah, I know that.

Well, since you know that, then you probably also know you can go down to the Recorders office and look it up, all you need is her property address.

It was so basic it hadnt occurred to me.

I can see the light slowly coming on in that dim mind of yours, Dev.

You know where theyre located?

Hang on a sec, I know where they are, but let me get you the address. He hit a couple of keys on his computer waited a moment. Here we go, PRR, 90 Plato Boulevard West, just go over the Wabasha Bridge and take a right.

Ill be back, I said and headed out the door.

The Ramsey County Property Records and Revenue office is a fairly modern looking four-story, white stucco structure with lots of large windows and rounded corners on the entire exterior of the building.

The only county buildings I visited on any sort of a regular basis was either the courthouse or the jail. Just by the nature of the beast, the experience was likely to be on the unpleasant side. This was altogether different.

Hi, how can I help you? a pleasant looking woman, maybe in her fifties asked. Her name tag read Mary Jane. We were standing at a long counter of laminated wood. She was on the business side of the counter and I was on the groveling side. The room was bright with floor to ceiling windows, off-white walls and fluorescent lights. Amazingly none of the lights were flickering. Framed and matted prints of various city scenes hung on the walls.

Id like to look up property records for a home in Saint Paul, I said.

Ill just need an address and I can bring that tape out to you, everything is on micro fiche, she added sensing my bewilderment.

I gave her Caseys address and she directed me to a table divided into a number of individual cubicles. She brought out a roll of micro fiche to me just a few minutes later. You need anything else just let me know. When youre finished here just bring the tape back up to the front desk. If you need copies made of any records we can do that for a modest fee.

Thank you, I dont think copies will be necessary.

The records are filed alphabetically by street name and then numerically based on address. So youll be going to H for Holly Avenue then numeric order after that, okay?

Well see if I screw it up.

Im here if you do, she said.

Thanks, Mary Jane.

Youre very welcome, Mr. Haskell.

Please, call me, Dev.

Okay, Dev, she smiled. Let me know if you need anything else.

I nodded then watched her walk away wondering was that last line a come on? At the Records office? I didnt think so. Was it?

I landed on Caseys records in just a few minutes then slowly ran down the dates from the late eighteen hundreds through the last century. I paused at November, 1983 when Norman Speer purchased the property from a Richard Mallnory. Norman Speer sold to a guy named Lowell Bulski in 2006. Bulski sold to Dermot and Casey Gallagher in March of 2013. That was where Jackie Van Dorn got involved. It all pretty much dovetailed with what Caseys neighbor across the street and Casey herself had told me. Now I just had to find this Lowell Bulski and see if he had any sort of connection to Bulldog.

I removed the tape from the viewer and walked back to the front counter.

That was fast, Mary Jane said looking up at me.

Thats because you gave me such good directions to begin with. Do you have records on individuals?

Individuals?

Yeah, if I got a guys name would you have a record of where he lived, employment, you know, that sort of thing?

I do know and no we dont have records of that sort. You might want to try a phone book or you could go on line and possibly look that up in a reverse directory. If you have an address you might be able to learn who lived there. Word of advice, dont pay for any of that information. If they want to charge you just move on to another site. You might start online with White Pages. Theyre a pretty intuitive site.

White pages, Ill remember that. Thanks, Mary Jane, youve been a big help.

Always my pleasure, stop in anytime, she smiled.

There it was again, was she or wasnt she?

Chapter Twenty.

I phoned Louie as I pulled out of the parking lot.

Yeah, Dev, what is it?

Just wanted to say thanks, Im leaving your friends at PRR now.

You get what you needed?

Yes and no. The good news is I got a name, the bad news is it doesnt mean a d.a.m.n thing to me.

Who is it?

Some guy named Lowell Bulski, ring any bells?

No, not off the top of my head. You got a second, Im on my computer I could look him up.

Yeah, please do. I was headed back across the Wabasha Bridge. I stopped for a red light at the far end of the bridge while Louie was clicking keys on his computer.

Okay, here we go, he said just as the light turned green. Theres a guy with that same last name listed with the Liquor Board of Control out of Washington, the state not D.C. A Bulski contracting out of Milwaukee, a Florence Bulski, poet, but nothing with the first name Lowell. Thats the guys name, the guy your pals bought their house from?

Yeah, hes the guy Jackie Van Dorn covered for in the closing. I got an idea.

If youre thinking of going to Van Dorns office, dont. Thats not a good idea.

Relax, I have no intention of going to his office, I promise. I better ring off, Im driving and Im heading into some heavy construction.

Later, Louie said and hung up.

The parking lot at Nastys was more crowded than when I was here the other day. I found a place about as far away from the door as you could get. The same heavy-set woman was stuffed into the little gla.s.s booth just past the door. She had a cigarette almost burned down to the filter smoldering next to her. Her left shoulder and arm were flattened up against the bulletproof gla.s.s.

Five bucks, she said not looking up from her book, it looked to be a different romance than the other day.

I slipped a ten into the little well in the counter. She gave half a sigh suggesting she really couldnt be bothered then after some effort she slid a five back out to me.

Thank you very much, I said sweetly.

That got her going on a phlegmy coughing jag and I pushed the pair of bra.s.s b.o.o.bs on the doors and fled inside. The place was more or less packed with guys in suits and loosened starched collars. I couldnt spot an open table. Occasionally, a whistle or two came from the crowd. The two women dancing on stage looked fairly happy with clumps of dollar bills stuffed in their garters, and the half dozen girls out on the floor working the crowd all had smiles on their faces.

I headed toward the bar.

The same crabby bartender from the other day looked over at me while pouring a tray of tap beers, at least this time she was actually doing something. Yeah, she grunted.

Im looking for Freddy.

That fat guy, the bouncer?

Thats him.

I think he woke up from his nap and left about half an hour ago. You might check the parking lot, he could be back asleep out there in his car.

Wow, she actually had a sense of humor. Then again, given it was Freddy we were talking about maybe she was just stating a fact. More whistles and yells from the crowd as the two girls dancing picked up cash from the guys seated along the edge of the stage.