Bacik worked in a cubicle barely wide enough for Tally to lie down in. Tally took a seat. Serrano went to the adjacent cube and asked a petrified thirtyish redhead if he could borrow a chair. She nodded, just glad he didn’t want to question her. Serrano carried the chair into Bacik’s cube and took a seat next to Tally.
Bacik sat down. “How can I help you, Officers . . .”
“I’m Detective Tally; this is Detective Serrano. We spoke on the phone earlier.”
“Yes?” Bacik said, as though he’d been asked a question.
“We’re here about Jim Franklin,” she continued. “And the home you sold to Rachel Marin.”
“It was a standard home purchase,” he said, voice trembling. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Serrano looked at Tally. She laughed.
“You know,” Tally said, “anytime I’m talking to someone and they start off by saying, ‘I’m not a racist,’ well, guess what. You can bet the house that at some point during the conversation, they’re going to drop the n-word or talk about how some black guy stole his job. See what I’m saying? Nobody says ‘I didn’t do anything wrong’ unless . . .”
Tally waited.
When Bacik said nothing, she continued, “Unless they did something wrong.”
“I have an NDA,” Bacik said.
“Excuse me?” Serrano replied.
“I signed a nondisclosure agreement. I can’t talk to you.”
“You signed a nondisclosure agreement when you sold Rachel Marin her house?”
Bacik nodded.
“I’ve never heard of an NDA for a home purchase,” Serrano said, “unless it’s someone famous, like Peter Dinklage.”
Bacik looked confused.
“Peter Dinklage? Tyrion Lannister? Game of Thrones? You need to stay more current with the culture, Mr. Bacik.”
“I can argue my partner’s definition of ‘culture,’” Tally said, “but the fact is, nondisclosure agreements are between two parties regarding a civil matter. They are subject to warrants and are not protected by law.”
“Meaning your NDA will not protect you in court,” Serrano said.
“Court?” Bacik said, the color draining from his face.
“US law stipulates that NDAs, or nondisclosure agreements, cannot lawfully prevent people from reporting claims to law enforcement or government agencies,” Serrano said.
“So the question is,” Tally said sternly, “why did Jim Franklin require you to sign an NDA when you sold Rachel Marin her house?”
“I didn’t break any laws,” Bacik said convincingly. “I sold a house. Plain and simple. It was a routine transaction.”
“Buying a home for 800 grand in cash is not a routine transaction,” Serrano said. “How many homes in the $800,000 price range have you sold without the buyer procuring a mortgage?”
Bacik was silent.
“Wow, that many,” Tally said. “Doesn’t sound like a routine transaction.”
“Routine or not, it was a legal transaction. You have no right to come in here and bully me,” Bacik said.
“Bully you?” Tally replied with mock surprise. “Trust me, Mr. Bacik, if we were here to bully you, you’d know it. We just want to know why so much secrecy was necessary for this ‘routine’ purchase.”
“And we want to know the extent of Jim Franklin’s relationship with Rachel Marin,” Serrano added.
“He was her lawyer,” Bacik said, confident that relaying this piece of information couldn’t get him in trouble. “He handled the negotiations and reviewed the contracts for the purchase.”
“Did he draw up the NDA?” Serrano asked.
Again, Bacik was silent.
“How many properties have you sold where the buyer required an NDA?”
Again, silence.
“This is sounding less and less like a routine purchase,” Tally said again.
“Listen, Mr. Bacik,” Serrano said gently. “We have no interest in hassling you. Or messing with your livelihood. And that’s real. But we’re going to find out the truth. Whether you help us or not. And while we don’t want to harm your business, if you impede our investigation by refusing to cooperate, well then, I’m going to renege on my promise. So tell us. Point blank. Why did Jim Franklin require you to sign an NDA?”
“You’re not going to the press with this?” Bacik said. “I can’t have my name in any stories that are undesirable.”
“If it’s like you said, Mr. Bacik,” Tally replied, “if you’re on the up-and-up, your name stays as clean as a granite countertop the first day of its listing.”
“OK,” Bacik said. “Her real name isn’t Rachel Marin. That was part of the agreement. Marin is the name she used on the contract, and it’s the name on the deed, but it’s not her given name. I think part of the reason she paid all cash is so there wouldn’t be any record of a bank transaction in her legal name. No mortgage, nothing on her credit.”
“What is her real name?” Tally asked.
“I don’t know,” Bacik pleaded, and they both knew he was telling the truth. “Because she didn’t need a mortgage, we didn’t have to go through all the background checks necessary when a bank gets involved. And the payment was made via certified check from Franklin and Rosato Associates, rather than the buyer. In a weird way, it was kind of like selling to a guarantor.”
“You’re saying the check came from the law firm rather than the buyer because they were protecting their client’s identity.”
“I’m not not saying that.”
“Why would they want to hide her identity?”
“I don’t know that either,” Bacik said. Again, he seemed to be telling the truth.
“You spent several years in Darien at a small real estate firm called Front Door Associates,” Serrano said.
Bacik nodded. “That’s right.” He liked this line of questioning. It seemed innocuous, and he didn’t have to lie.
“Is that where you met Jim Franklin of Franklin and Rosato?” Tally said.
Bacik cocked his head, as though unsure why that question was being asked.
“Because it’s fairly random, don’t you think—a lawyer from Darien contacting you of all people to buy a house in Ashby for an anonymous client in Connecticut? So you had to have known Jim Franklin previously. Which is why he and Rachel Marin—or whatever her name is—came to you. Jim Franklin knew you would perform an all-cash transaction, no questions asked.”
“Like I said,” Bacik replied, “I haven’t broken any laws.”
“No, but Jim Franklin and Rachel Marin might have,” Tally said sternly. “And either you work with us, and we can all be friends, or you can work against us, in which case I will make sure you’ll be selling porta potties by the end of the year.”
Serrano could see beads of sweat forming at Bacik’s temples. He didn’t need to look around to know that Bacik’s colleagues were listening to every word or that the constant opening and closing of the front door meant prospective clients may have suddenly changed their minds upon seeing a police presence. Every moment Bacik hesitated, he was costing the firm money.