Marine Returns From Okinawa to Find Her Bungalow Already Sold
“I only need five minutes,” I said, stepping closer to the desk. “It is regarding the Maggie Street property.”
She clicked her mouse twice, her eyes scanning her screen. “There is no record of an appointment for you, Ms. Maria.”
“He handled the closing three weeks ago,” I said. “He will want to see me.”
“Mr. Benson does not see walk-ins,” she said, her voice rising slightly. “I can schedule you for the second week of November.”
A door behind her opened an inch, showing a sliver of yellow light from an inner office, and the sound of a man laughing softly drifted out.
“Tell him Maria is here,” I said.
She reached for her desk phone but did not lift the receiver. “I will have to ask you to leave if you continue to disrupt the office.”
“I am not disrupting,” I said. “I am asking for a copy of the closing file.”
“Those files are private client records,” she said. “Only the buyer and the seller have access.”
“I am the owner on the deed,” I said.
