“That’s good, Mr. Osbourne.”

“But I need to open a bank account, Victor, a local account for business purposes, and every time I try you end up attaching the funds. This has become very inconvenient for me.”

“With interest, Mr. Osbourne, you still owe Mr. Sussman almost nine hundred thousand dollars.” My gambit with his wife had not worked as well as I had intended. Osbourne, sheared in the divorce settlement, had been able to secrete most of what little his wife’s lawyer had left him before I could file my attachments. Foreign bank accounts, straw-man holding companies. He was much better at hiding money than at making it.

“I’m aware of exactly all that I owe Sussman,” said Winston Osbourne. “And I do wish I could pay him back for everything. You too, Victor. In fact, plans are being laid this very instant to pay you back. But I need to open a bank account. I can’t revive my prospects without a bank account, now can I, Victor?”

“Have you talked to a lawyer about declaring bankruptcy?”

“Yes, of course. But I’m an Osbourne, Victor, something you can’t begin to understand.” He shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “And not all my debts are dischargeable, I’ve been told.”

“What do you want, Mr. Osbourne?”

“I want you to leave me alone. All I’m asking is for you to behave reasonably. This is your last chance. I’m willing to pay you to leave me alone.”

“How much?”

“Ten thousand dollars, like before. But, unfortunately, nothing for at least a year.”

“Mr. Osbourne, you still have a vintage Duesenberg hidden somewhere. I believe you have money stashed in the Cayman Islands, as well as in certain Swiss banks. I understand you recently traveled to Florida, out of season, yes, but still Florida. Frankly, I think you can do better, Mr. Osbourne, than a slim promise of maybe ten thousand dollars to be paid in a year.”