“I want to find out about a certain corporation,” began Marissa. “If a business is incorporated, can someone like myself find out the names of the owners?”
Mr. Davis tipped forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Maybe and maybe not,” he said, smiling.
Marissa groaned. It seemed that a conversation with Mr. Davis was going to be like pulling teeth. But before she could rephrase her question, he continued: “If the company in question is a public corporation, it would be hard to find out all the stockholders, especially if a lot of the stock is held in trust with power of attorney delegated to a third party. But if the company is a partnership, then it would be easy. In any case, it is always possible to find out the name of the service agent if you have in mind to institute some sort of litigation. Is that what you have in mind?”
“No,” said Marissa. “Just information. How would I go about finding out if a company is a partnership or a public corporation?”
“Easy,” said Mr. Davis, leaning back once more. “All you have to do is go to the State House in Atlanta, visit the Secretary of State’s office and ask for the corporate division. Just tell the clerk the name
of the company, and he can look it up. It’s a matter of public record, and if the company is incorporated in Georgia, it will be listed there.”
“Thank you,” said Marissa, seeing a glimmer of light at the end of the dark tunnel. “How much do I owe you?”
Mr. Davis raised his eyebrows, studying Marissa’s face. “Twenty dollars might do it, unless . .
“My pleasure,” said Marissa, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill and handing it over.
Marissa returned to her car and drove back toward Atlanta. She was pleased to have a goal, even if the chances of finding significant information were not terribly good.
She stayed just under the speed limit. The last thing she wanted was to be stopped by the police. She made good time and was back in the city by 4:00. Parking in a garage, she walked to the State House.
Distinctly uncomfortable in the presence of the capitol police, Marissa sweated nervously as she started up the front steps, certain she would be recognized.
“Dr. Blumenthal,” called a voice.
For a split second, Marissa considered running. Instead, she turned to see one of the CDC secretaries, a bright young woman in her early twenties, walking toward her.
“Alice MacCabe, Doctor Carbonara’s office. Remember me?”
Marissa did, and for the next few nerve-racking minutes was forced to engage in small talk. Luckily, Miss MacCabe was oblivious to the fact that Marissa was a “wanted” person.
As soon as she could, Marissa said good-bye and entered the building. More than ever, she just wanted to get whatever information she could and leave. Unfortunately, there was a long line at the corporate division. With dwindling patience, Marissa waited her turn, keeping a hand to her face with the mistaken notion that it might keep her from being recognized.
“What can I do for you?” asked the white-haired clerk when it was finally Marissa’s turn.
“I’d like some information about a corporation called Professional Labs.”
“Where is it located?” asked the clerk. He slipped on his bifocals and entered the name at a computer terminal.
“Grayson, Georgia,” said Marissa.
“Okay,” said the clerk. “Here it is. Incorporated just last year. What would you like to know?”
“Is it a partnership or a public corporation?” asked Marissa, trying to remember what Mr. Davis had said.
“Limited partnership, subchapter S.”
“What does that mean?” asked Marissa.
“It has to do with taxes. The partners can deduct the corporate losses, if there are any, on their individual returns.”
“Are the partners listed?” asked Marissa, excitement overcoming her anxiety for the moment.
“Yup,” said the clerk. “There’s Joshua Jackson, Rodd Becker . .
“Just a second,” said Marissa. “Let me write this down.” She got out a pen and began writing.
“Let’s see,” said the clerk, staring at the computer screen. “Jackson, Becker; you got those?”
“Yes.”
“There’s Sinclair Tieman, Jack Krause, Gustave Swenson, Duane Moody, Trent Goodridge and the Physicians’ Action Congress.”