J. Marshall Humpyall--"just call me JayMar"--was gonna have a real busy Thursday. And Friday. There was the house to buy. The new car. And, of course, the Chris-Craft yacht. He began the day early at Ambiance Realty, Palaces for the Obscenely Rich. He met with Mr Ambience himself, Oilkan Slipp.
Oilkan looked across his desk at the middle-aged man in gaudy gold attire and tasseled-loafers. A clone of all his customers requiring comfortable lodgings in Naples.
After three hours in Port Royal, JayMar had selected a waterfront beauty and given Oilkan some earnest money with instructions to proceed. By the end of the day he'd acquired a Cadillac convertible and a boat big enough to boogie down to Bogota on.
Friday, just before noon, he was in the old Bank of Naples, on 5th and 8th South, seated with the New Accounts VP. The VP's presence was warranted by the size of the check JayMar had presented to open the account: a cashiers check for about 200k, drawn on a bank in the Bahama's. This was big money in the late 60's.
"I'm going to need a little walkin' around money," JayMar said.
"No problem," Mr VP said, "how much?"
"Oh, I'm going to need some furniture, some new clothes. . .twenty-thousand should do it."
Taken aback, Mr VP said, "Of course, but with a new account, that size withdrawal, and the check being from out of the country, we're going to have to verify it. Policy, all that."
"No problem," JayMar said. "Mind if I smoke a cigar while I wait?" Not waiting, producing a big bucks Montecristo Cuban cigar.
Soon a clerk came to the VP's desk and relayed hushed info to the boss. When she left, the VP said. "We can't verify the check until Monday, the banks in the Bahamas close at noon on Friday.
"Oh, goodness," JayMar said, "what am I to do? I've just relocated here, and the house I bought today won't be ready for at least two weeks, so I'll need lodging . . . and money."
Mr VP's ears perked up. "You bought a house?"
"Yes," JayMar said, "a place in Port Royal."
"How nice."
"And a new car. And a yacht. I'm not some fly-by-nighter. You're welcome to call and verify the purchases if you'd like."
And so the VP, greedy for the account called. The realtor. Yes, he bought a fine home on Galleon Drive. Lots of ambience. The car dealer. Baby blue convert, just like Elvis drives. The yacht dealer. Yes indeed, a nice 4o footer.
"I believe that should be satisfactory," Mr VP said. "We'll make that advance."
JayMar smiled, and took a big drag of his fake Montecristo.
When Monday came and the bank in the Bahama's said the check was bogus, JayMar was long gone, waiting for Thursday, so he could work his magic elsewhere.
You see he hadn't really bought or taken delivery of anything. He'd made down payments on the house, car, and boat--with bum checks on the same bank in the Bahamas. That couldn't be cashed--or verified--until Monday.
It was a bitter pill for the hometown bank, but the taste had already left their mouth a year later when they fell for the same scam perpetrated by a "dentist" retiring to Naples from the islands.
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