“That’s wonderful.” Amy bent to kiss me and take Myles. “I want to hear all about it.”
Over dinner Charlotte announced that she’d played with Millicent, Ambrose, and Clementine. They had built a fort from sticks and eaten Popsicles for snack.
“Mine was blue raspberry,” she said.
“Why do all your friends sound like they have consumption?” I asked.
“What’s that?”
Amy suppressed laughter and kicked me under the table. “Blue raspberry sounds delicious, sweetie. This is delicious, too, Daddy.”
“Thanks.”
Charlotte said, “Daddy, I looove this chicken. Can you make it again?”
Myles said, “Eww tit.”
Chapter 4
At my desk the next morning, I dove deep into Swann’s Flat.
Business registry records supported my initial impression: beyond sketchy.
For a tiny place, it was throbbing with commerce, home to a Finance Corporation, a Development Corporation, a Land Corporation, a Land Development Corporation, a plain old Corporation, a Company, LPs and LLPs and INCs, nonprofits and legacy corporations and stock corporations, and buried among them, the Swann’s Flat Resort Area, LLC.
SFRA?
Formed on January 22, 1991; inactive as of 2007.
The initial filing consisted of a single typewritten page. There were no officers listed. The business address was 134 Monkeyflower Drive, Swann’s Flat, CA 95536. The registered agent for service of process was ML Corporate Solutions, located next door at 136. The purpose of the limited liability company was to engage in any lawful act or activity for which a limited liability company may be organized under the California Revised Uniform Limited Liability Company Act.
Didn’t get much vaguer than that.
No website. To be expected, given that they’d gone out of business almost two decades ago.
Why was Marisol still paying them?
Who was she paying?
A disgruntled person is a private investigator’s best friend. If you want dirt on someone, talk to the folks they’ve pissed off.
I ran a docket search.
Since 1995, Swann’s Flat Resort Area had been sued twenty-four times. The specifics varied from case to case, but the themes were consistent.
Land and lies.
Petitioners David and Mary Walsh purchased a lot at 17 Wildrose Run, paying installation and connection fees for water, power, and sewer lines. The complaint noted that this had to be done for every new home; the existing grid did not cover the peninsula but went in piecemeal. Four years later, the Walshes put their lot back up for sale without having broken ground, receiving one offer, well below their original purchase price. They accepted. During the inspection period, however, it emerged that the local utilities body was refusing to honor the previous connection fees, requiring the prospective buyers to pay an additional $27,825. The buyer subsequently dropped out. No more offers had been forthcoming. The Walshes sought $87,341 in damages from the utilities body, the Swann’s Flat Board of Supervisors, Does I–XX, and Swann’s Flat Resort Area ($12,980 in resort fees). After much wrangling, they’d settled for an undisclosed amount.
Petitioner Joseph Hui Lee purchased a lot located at 21 Elkhorn Court. After two years he had yet to receive title. He was suing the title company, the broker, and — for $7,767 in resort fees — Swann’s Flat Resort Area. Years of motions and countermotions came to an abrupt halt with Lee’s death in 2001. His heirs had elected not to continue the fight.
Every case led to five more, the number of search terms growing exponentially.
I spent the next few weeks tracking down plaintiffs. Many were presently deceased. Those I managed to reach tended to fall into one of three categories: They were elderly, were military, or lived out of state — in some cases, overseas. All had bought their properties sight unseen, after reading an ad or receiving a cold call. They recounted a sales pitch that resembled uncannily the online listings.
An exclusive piece of the California coast at a bargain price, plus a low-cost, no-hassle loan.
Who could turn that down?
The nightmare began before the ink was dry.
Soaring HOA fees. Hidden resort fees. Assessments, twice a year or more.
Any attempt to begin construction ran into permit hiccups, materials holdups, labor shortages, problematic site conditions, inclement weather. Eventually the buyer would lose heart and try to sell, only to be informed by a real estate agent that they had little chance of recovering their full purchase price on the open market in any reasonable amount of time.
At that point, with the situation seemingly beyond salvage, they’d receive a call from a corporate buyer, offering to assume their debt in exchange for signing over the deed. Almost everyone agreed. A few refused, abandoning the property and ceasing to pay taxes. The county then repossessed the lot and auctioned it off to the very same corporations, who then relisted it for sale.
Same result either way. The buyer ended up with nothing and the cycle began anew.
Elvira Dela Cruz said, “I was stupid and lost my money.”
In 1998, she’d bought a lot in Swann’s Flat that proved unusable. Acting as her own attorney, she filed suit against Swann’s Flat Resort Area ($6,015 in resort fees) and the salesman, a man named William C. Arenhold. The case was dismissed in summary judgment.
Now she was in her late fifties, with microbladed eyebrows and Barbie-pink lipstick. For lunch she’d chosen a hot pot restaurant in the St. Francis Square shopping center, across the parking lot from the dental office where she worked as a hygienist.
“You’re being a little unfair to yourself,” I said.
“Oh no.” She dunked a slice of pork into the bubbling broth. “I was stupid.”
I’d asked to meet, prompted by the parallels to Marisol Santos Salvador. Both women lived in Daly City and belonged to the Filipino community. They’d bought their plots within eighteen months of each other. What really caught my eye, however, was the attorney representing Arenhold.
Rolando Pineda, Esquire.
Mr. Pineda. He’s a family friend.
Elvira surprised me further by informing me that Pineda had started out as her lawyer.
“I had a slip and fall against the city. He got me thirty thousand dollars and took half. He asked me, ‘What are you going to do with the rest of the money?’ I said, ‘Pay my bills.’ He said, ‘You need to think about the future. Let me introduce you to a man.’ ”
“William Arenhold.”
She nodded. “He came to my apartment and showed me pictures. The beach, the sunset, dolphins jumping. It was so pretty. He said I can build my dream home for when I retire. ‘I’m twenty-five, what do I need that?’ He said, ‘It’s an investment. Wait a few years and sell, you make ten times the money. But you have to move fast or someone else will buy it.’ ”
“Slick.”
“Oh yes. He was tall, like you. Very handsome. He wore a fancy suit. And he had nice teeth.” She smiled. “I liked that.”
“How much did the land cost?”
“Fifteen thousand.”
“The same amount Pineda won for you.”
“Pretty funny, huh? I told Bill, ‘I can’t spend everything, I need to save some.’ ‘Don’t worry, you put in what you can, I’ll get you a loan.’ Every month I paid sixty dollars plus interest. They also charged for the water, for electricity, the sewer, maintenance, security. See? Drip, drip, drip.”
“How long did this go on?”
“Four years. One day I decided to go see what it looked like.”
“You hadn’t seen it before?”
“Just pictures.” She chortled. “You think I’m over-the-top stupid.”