Maybe the Mimi Fong tie was a touch over the top, but Jill had given it to him, and it was his favorite. Lester had a point. Auction bidders were filing in, mostly men but some women, in everything from donated coats to tracksuits and high-tops to silk sports jackets. The lawyers all wore the identical uniform of shiny blue suit, white shirt, red tie, and scuffed black oxfords. The women wore pumps.

“I want these guys to know we are serious people,” Ted said. “Money. Power. Influence.”

Lester nodded. “Yeah, well, you’re all that and more. The Corona boys were near the front of the line. Two guys. I got somebody to point them out to me, introduced myself, and told them you want to chat when they’re done. I told them you’re a big buyer. An investor. It got their interest.”

“I’ll try to play the part.”

“They’ve got three properties to bid on. They were almost first to go into the courtroom. If we’re lucky, they’ll be out soon.”

“Can we go in and talk to them?”

Lester shook his head, and Ted thought of an old workhorse. “I told you. If you want to get inside for the auctions, you have to show up before nine—and bring certified checks.”

Ted raised hands in mock surrender. “I know. I’m impatient, that’s all.”

“The court also takes cash,” Lester said with a grin.

“That’s interesting.” Ted thought for a moment. “Somebody could launder money that way.”

“Yeah? How would that work?”

“You put down cash at the auction, right?” He warmed to the subject. It was the kind of crime he could almost admire. Simple. Effective. Victimless. “You pay full price. There’s a deed, but there’s no need to report the transaction to any government body except the county clerk. Then, when you sell it, you get paid by check—which you can deposit anywhere. As long as you pay capital gains on the sale, who’s going to care? It’s only illegal if your intent is to launder money.”

“You have a criminal mind,” Lester said. “I would not be surprised to learn that Corona Partners uses cash rather than certified checks.”

“Oh?”

“Wait till you meet these guys.”

The first wave of lunch seekers had left the building before Lester nudged him. “Here they come.”

Corona Partners was represented by two hard-looking men in their early thirties, clean-shaven, one with cropped hair, the other bald. Both wore tight designer jeans, white silk T-shirts, and thigh-length black leather jackets. The one with hair had the unreadable face of a poker champion. The other was taller and had the flattened nose and scarred eyebrows of a boxer. They both looked like hired muscle. Ted thought he might have overreached. They probably had methods of negotiation that he lacked.