BOW 28: Swindled

Schaumburg, Illinois

Monday, March 5, 1974

4:17 p.m. Central Standard Time

Coming off the bed, “Mitchie…” standing alongside,“... what are we going to do now?”

Still sitting. Holding his hands to either side of her waist, looking up. “You still want to move to San Diego, don’t you?”

“ ‘Do I still want to move to San Diego’?” Looking at him. “ ‘Yeah’...” she said forcefully “...bet your ass I still want to. I love San Diego!

“Beside; we sold this house and bought that house and think that we’d be hit with one hell of a law suit… or two, or maybe even three if we back out of the deals.”

“Yeah, I think so, too!

“But, Marcie, I don’t have a job.”

“Mitchie, you’re a salesman. You’ll find a job.”

“That’s one of the reasons I wanted to get home before calling you. ‘Yeah’, I’ve been thinking about that and thought I’d talk to….”

“You can talk to Sophie to see what it would take for you to get a license to sell real estate.”

“Yes, that, too. But I’ve also been thinking about Mister Sawyer. He seemed to like me and I have a feeling he’d take me on and train me to be a car salesman.”

“Mitchie, I think that selling ‘Mercedes Benz’ automobiles makes you a little more than just a ‘car salesman’ and it might not be all that easy to sell those cars. ‘Especially’ for someone like you that knows absolutely nothing about what makes them run.”

“I’m really not very mechanically inclined, am I?”

“ ‘Really not very mechanically inclined’?” Marsha repeated with a dry chuckle. “I’m surprised you know the difference between the ignition and gas hole.”

The spat of humor over.

“You realize...” Mitchell asked “...how lucky we were? How perfect the timing had to be to get that — as Sophie said: ‘glowing earnings report’ from Edwin?”

“Yes, of course ‘I realize’. If the escrow was opened on Thursday morning and Sophie got to the bank that evening...”

Interjecting. “With the two hour time difference…” Mitchell said “...that means the earliest the bank could have reached Plankow was...”

“The bank had to catch him in the late afternoon Chicago time.” Marsha interjected. “Probably when they were packing to make their getaway and that means Edwin and Geraldine were still there on Friday and – because we know the phone was still connected there until this afternoon – they probably called the telephone company to shut the phones down and pulled all the furniture and stuff on Friday evening.”

“And when the bank called late Friday he was probably caught off guard and figured, ‘what the hell, may as well give the sucker a break’ and told them what a fantastic salesman I am.”

“And maybe also...” Marsha said, giving Edwin Plankow the shadow of a doubt “...the son of a bitch was feeling guilty about swindling and screwing us.”

“The fact that I won’t have a job after we move won’t matter here, in selling our place…”

“Yeah...” Marsha said “...but if you have no means of earning an income it ‘will’ matter to our lender there, so…”

“So let’s not say ‘anything’ to ‘anyone’ about it.”

“ ‘Especially’ to Sophie…”

“Or even Alice…”

“Because they talk to each other.”

“So we won’t mention anything to Sophie about me, maybe, selling real estate until after we’re there…”

“And the escrow’s closed.”

“You know how rotten this is? That ‘son of a bitch’ knew we put our home on the market and didn’t give a damn about the fact that I have four kids and a wife.

“Hell, if the timing was right, we could have moved to San Diego and ‘then’ discovered there was no business and that I didn’t have any means of earning a living.”

“Yeah...” Marsha said “...and Edwin knew you were in the process of selling your customer list here and wouldn’t have any way to earn a living either here or there.”

“What really bugs the shit out of me is —besides being swindled, is that someone I really liked and trusted turned out to be such a cold-hearted, fucking, son of a bitch!”

“I guess that’s what swindlers and con-artists are...” Marsha repeated “...‘cold-hearted, fucking, sons of a bitches’!”

“The three thousand we paid Plankow took almost all of our savings so, ‘thank God’ we made that extra ten thousand on the house.”

“We should be able to manage very well on twenty-two thousand until you get a job and we have some money coming in, Mitch.”

“I don’t see any reason to mention this to the kids, do you?”

“No. There’s no reason to upset them and we don’t know who they’d talk to about it…

May as well get dinner started.”

“And I’ll call the cops.”

Standing, placing his arms about Marsha’s waist. “I’m sorry I got us into this.”

“Mitchie, don’t be ridiculous,” she said kindly. “You know I’ve wanted to move to a warmer climate for years now, while the kids aren’t so old that there’s anyone here they’ll miss too much.”

“Even Mikey’s taking the move pretty well.”

“Matter of fact, I think he’s looking forward to San Diego and even asked if he could learn to surfboard.”

“Yeah...” Marsha said “...I think so, too. But if he was older and had a girlfriend…?”

“Well, fortunately he isn’t and doesn’t.” Lightly kissing his wife on the cheek.

“I’d better get dinner started.”

Going downstairs, Marsha went into the kitchen to prepare for dinner and Mitchell…

… “Police Department!”

Sitting at the kitchen table. “Good evening…” Mitchell said “... I’ve been swindled and would like to make a report.”

“One moment, please.”

“ ‘Fraud’!”

“Good evening…” Mitchell said “...I’ve been swindled and would like to make a report.”

“Hold on.”

...“ ‘Detective Steinberger’.”

“Detective Steinberger, good evening. I’ve been swindled and would like to make a report.”

“Your name, please.”

“Lipensky, Mitchell Lipensky.”

“Could you please spell your name.”

His eyes locked with Marsha’s, who was standing before the stove holding a long handled wooden spoon.

“M-I-T…”

“No, Sir. I know how to spell ‘Mitchell’. Your last name; would you spell your last name.”

Sighing: “L-I-P-E-N-S-K-Y’, ‘Lipensky’.”

“Mister Lipensky, I can take your report over the phone or, if you would rather, you can come in.”

Rolling his eyes. “Where are you located?”

“Chicago Police Headquarters, ‘Halstead Street’.”

“Downtown?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Taking a cup of coffee from his wife. “Does it matter if I make the report over the phone?”

“No, Sir, not at all.”

About to take a sip of coffee, “Okay…” changing his mind, putting the cup onto the table “...may as well do it now.”

Your address, Mister Lipensky.”

“5443 Winston Road, Schaumburg…”

“ ‘Schaumburg’? You live in Schaumburg?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Where did the alleged fraud take place?”

“ ‘Alleged’? It’s ‘not’ alleged, the son of a bitch cheated me out of three thousand bucks!”

“I know, Sir. But until it’s proved, the crime is an ‘alleged crime’. So where did this ‘alleged crime’ take place?”

Thinking a moment. “Uh, in their office, I guess.”

“Where is this office?”

“On Touhy…”

“On the north side?”

“Yes.”

“You need to talk to the ‘Ravenswood Division’.”

“The ‘Ravenswood Division’?”

“Yes, Sir…. I’ll get you back to the ‘switchboard’ and he’ll transfer you.”

...“Switchboard!”

“ Transfer this call to ‘Ravenswood’!”

“Yeah, okay.”

The phone held to his ear by his shoulder… There was a click on the phone… then the line went dead.

“Hello! Hello!... Shit!”

“What happened?” Marsha asked.

“I got disconnected.”

Dialing ‘information’: “Yes, operator, may I please have the number for the Ravenswood division of the Chicago Police Department.”

...Dialing the number…

Sipping at his coffee until...

“Police Department!”

“Is this the ‘Ravenswood Division’?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Great!” Rolling his eyes. “I’ve been swindled and would like to make a report.”

“Hold on, I’ll transfer you to ‘Fraud’.”

“ ‘Fraud’!”

“Hello,! My name is Mitchell Lipensky. That’s...” speaking slowly “… ‘L-I-P-E-N-S-K-Y’ and I’ve been swindled.”

“ ‘Morning, Mister Lipensky. I’m Detective Lowrey…. What’s your address, there?”

Doing his best to remain calm. “5443 Winston Road, Schaumburg.”

“Where did the alleged fraud take place?”

Rolling his eyes once again. “His office at 7544 Touhy Avenue.”

“ ‘His office’?” The police officer questioned: “Who are you speaking of?”

“ ‘Edwin Plankow’. The Bastard’s name is ‘Edwin Plankow’.”.”

“Uh, hold on a minute, will you.”

Turning the coffee cup in a tight circle. “Yeah, sure.”

...“Would this be the office of ‘Your Write Hand’?”

“ ‘Yeah’…” taken back at this “...yes! How would you know?”

“Actually Mister Lipensky, you’re our fourth call on this alleged crime.”

“ Your ‘fourth’ call’?”

Hearing this, Marsha came to the table and stood alongside her husband.

“Yeah, we had two calls yesterday and my partner’s talking to someone else right now.”

“Detective, uh…?”

“ ‘Lowrey’.”

“Yeah! ‘Detective Lowrey’. Do you know what territories he’s sold to these other four guys?”

“Well, actually, it’s only four other ‘guys’ including you, one of the victims’ a woman.”

“Marcie…”

“Hold on a second, will you Detective?”

“Marcie, we’re the fourth complaint so far and one of them is a woman.”

“Oh, my God!”

“Detective Lowrey, did any of these people say which territories he sold them.”

“Yes. One in the Miami area, one Northern California and the lady in Southern California. You?”

“ ‘Southern California’…” knowing it was a stupid question, but “...is there anything we can do to get our money back?”

“It’s doubtful you’ll ever see any of that money again. Let me have your phone number and if anything comes up or we get hold of these crooks, we’ll contact you.”

“We’re moving to San Diego next month.”

“Let us know where you’ll be and, like I said, we’ll contact you.”

Next BOW #28: Sammy