Chapter 26: In Sydney -- II

I phoned Rachel when I returned to the hotel.

“I met your friend Professor Wynne today.”

“Oh, she’s a dear.”

“Yes. To be blunt, I was wondering whether she’d be a possible friend.”

“Hmmm.”

“Which means?”

“I’d never thought of her in such a way.”

“Didn’t Patrick tell you what I said?”

“Yes. But I worry.”

“Foolish to worry about Winnie or – uh – Sandra.”

“You’d enjoy talking to Sandra. She knows as many stories as you do.”

“She lives near Kings Cross?”

“Yes. On McElhone. I’m not sure what number. In the 120s, I think.”

“See if you can find me her number in the next few days. I think it might be a bad idea to ask Winnie for it.”

Rachel laughed. “Even though?...”

“Exactly. On a different topic. I looked at two places today. Neither was suitable. One was near the Holiday Inn and the other a garden flat right at Brougham and Cowpers Wharf. However, there’s still the one in Winnie’s building and I saw other listings that might be interesting. However, I want to know what direction you’re moving in.”

“That’s tough. I’m going to continue occasional pieces in the paper, but I want to get a doctorate eventually. And I want to write about Dupain and Williams. That message about the New Guinea photo and the London sketch was right on. And I understand why you saw it but my parents didn’t. You’re an entomologist. So everything with six legs is within your purview. But within that, there are beetles and ants, mayflies and moths. Locusts that burrow and fly and bees that build hives and fly. You have to look at some underlying foundation, not a superficial feature. Artists create in two or three dimensions; statically and dynamically; in a variety of media. You saw the underlying structure in those two images.”

“Terrific! Wonderful! Do that for a hundred pages and they’ll press that degree on you!”

“Really?”

“Really. And thank you. I’m honoured by your disquisition.”

I then called Winnie and told her of my residential search. She told me that Sandra “complained” that she’d never mentioned how good-looking I was. I commented that I was no Hugh Jackman nor Errol Flynn. She laughed. I asked whether she thought Sandra might become a friend.

“Yes. But not a spousal candidate.”

“I’ll think it over; I’m not looking for a date for this weekend.”

I read the reptiles book for a while. It was a good handbook for a non-herpetologist. In the morning, I phoned the real estate office. I mentioned the three things I’d seen on line and he told me of a new listing on Goulburn Street. He told me he could have the other agent call me. I thanked him and said I’d be here for another hour.

The phone rang only 20 minutes later. I arranged to meet the agent at 91 Goulburn at 11:00. I put on a blue shirt, a dark red tie and my new grey suit and walked down Pitt Street. I was a bit early, and scanned the neighborhood. World Square was two minutes away and Paddy’s Market under ten.

“Dr. Hollister?”

“Yes.”

“Glad to meet you. The apartment is on the 11^th floor. Would you like to see it first, or the other amenities?”

“Other Amenities?”

“There’s a secure car space and separate secure storage space as well as...”

“Let’s look at the apartment first.”

He was a real salesman. “This is a trendy, high level, north facing apartment that boasts two generously sized bedrooms, spacious lounge/dining area, modern kitchen with granite bench tops and stainless steel appliances, two stylish bathrooms together with an internal laundry with dryer.” And he’d not yet opened the door!

It was a nice place. Grey carpeting. Off-white walls. The kitchen looked untouched. I walked around, looked in the closets, looked at the washer and dryer as though I knew what I was doing.

“What’s the asking price?”

“An even million. A bargain in today’s market.”

“And how long has it been vacant?”

He looked at his cheat sheet. “The lease was up at the end of July, but the cleaners and painters were here subsequently.”

“Hmmm. You said there were an indoor swimming pool, a steam room and a fully equipped gym?”

“Yes.”

“Could we see them?”

We went on the guided tour of a lower level. “And there’s parking and storage?”

“Yes.”

“OK. I like the place. I could walk to my office...”

“Your office?” he interrupted.

“Oh, you don’t know.” I took out a card. “I’m the director of the Australian Museum. Just the other side of the park.” [The card says: “Gordon Hollister, Ph.D, D.S.M” -- people are always impressed.]

“Oh, Dr. Hollister, I’d no idea.”

“It’s fine. Don’t make a fuss. Now, is this privately owned or corporate?”

“The previous owner deceased about two or three years ago. There was a protest among the heirs and so the Estate’s trustee leased it out for two years. It is still held in escrow.”

“I see. And they want a million. Hmmm. OK. I’ll give you an earnest cheque for $100,000 and request that you offer $900,000. Can you do that?”

“Certainly, but the trustee may not accept.”

“Of course, but he or she may be happy with the money.” I took out my chequebook, wrote a cheque for $100,000 and handed it to him.

“And how will you arrange the mortgage?”

“No mortgage. I will pay cash. I’ll give you a personal cheque but if the trustee wishes, I will arrange for bank certification. I’m staying at the Harbour Marriott. And here is the card of my lawyer, who will handle the trivia.”

“Yes, sir. Excuse me, I’ve never sold a property so quickly and straightforwardly.”

“I’m old enough to know what I want and what I can afford. I look forward to hearing from you.” We shook hands, I walked to the corner of Pitt and took a cab to the Marriott.

It wasn’t lunchtime yet, so I called my lawyer and told him what I’d done.

“91 Goulburn’s a nice building.”

“I thought so. Convenient, too. Can you handle it?”

“Of course. Congratulations.”

“Not quite yet.”

I then called the other agent and told him. He seemed downcast, but I was certain he’d end up with a percent of whatever the final figure was, and that wasn’t bad for three phone calls and about an hour of his time.

Then I called one of the house agents, introduced myself and told him what I wanted to do.

“The market’s quite high. Four bedrooms and a study? Four baths and a powder room? Garden front and back? Walking distance to the station? Great! When can I see it?”

“I’ll have my son call you this afternoon. Patrick Scott Hollister. He’s a lawyer with one of the State Ministries. Perhaps you might give him an estimate on what the asking price might be.”

Finally, I called Patrick. “That’s great,” he said. “I’ll meet him, give him a guided tour and turn over the keys to him. I’ll come by the Marriott late in the afternoon. You need to sign Power to me, so I can do everything.”

I treated myself to expensive lunch at Hokkaido.

The message light was blinking. It was the agent. The trustee had countered with $950. I thought of offering $910 and see-sawing for a day or two and decided it just wasn’t worth the time. “Fine,” I said. “Will you call my lawyer and arrange for closing?”

“Certainly, when would you like it?”

“Whenever is convenient for him, the trustee and you. -- In his offices, please.”

“No problem.”

I left a message for my lawyer that I’d agreed to $950 and that he should arrange for me to take possession as soon as possible.