Lester checked the tax map and read off the block and lot. Ted typed in the information and waited.

“What are we looking for?” Lester scooched his chair around so that he could see the screen.

“Recent sales. We start with ACRIS. New York City property records. I know it usually takes you title guys a month or more to get the paperwork in and another month or two for the clerks to enter it into the system. But I’m betting that with a project this large they streamlined the process.”

They had. Records for the property went back over a hundred years. Barbara Miller was listed as the owner beginning in 1974 on a deed transfer. She had inherited the property. Prior to that, there were other Millers, all men. The most recent transactions, though, were the forced foreclosure sales to an LLC that went by the name of Corona Partners, followed three months later by a purchase by the LBC Development Corporation, a wholly owned subsidiary of La Bella Casa Hotels, itself a division of LBC International, Inc.—the same LBC whose initials were stamped on controversial developments all over Queens.

“There’s something missing,” Lester said. “The seller doesn’t match.”

Ted stopped and checked. Lester was right. The ultimate seller was not Corona but a blind, a cutout—One-Hundred-Fourteenth-Street LLC. The practice of hiding ownership was not illegal as long as it wasn’t used to evade the taxman or to operate an illegal enterprise. There were legitimate reasons for developers to keep their interest hidden from competitors, and that could have been the case in this instance. But Ted didn’t buy it. His faith in the basic goodness of man did not extend to real estate developers. “So who are they? And why hasn’t Corona posted the sale?”

“That’s an easy one,” Lester said. “Corona owes the transfer tax. They don’t have to pay until they post the sale. They’ll want to take their time.”

The drinks arrived. The vodka and orange juice was as pale as winter sun. Lester downed it in two swallows.

“They can only put it off for so long,” Ted said. He waved away the waiter’s offer of cream and sugar.

“Right. But these guys are flippers. One or one and a half percent paid out every month or so starts to add up.”

“Run this by me again,” Ted said.

“They never hold a property very long. The transfer tax is owed on every sale, no matter how long you hold it. If they turn over properties once a month or so, they’re paying fifteen percent in taxes—on the same capital. That’s a hefty bite. So they only file when they’re flush with cash.”

Ted was impressed that Lester understood this much about Corona and their business. “You know them? These Corona Partners?”