Not in a suit. Not yet. I put on jeans, a flannel shirt, wool socks, and my old canvas jacket. If there is a proper uniform for the first day of being betrayed by your child, I do not know it. Mine involved work boots.
By noon, Frank called back.
“It’s there,” he said. No greeting. No small talk. “Recorded properly. Secondary encumbrance index. Cross-referenced. Clear legal description. Priority predates the transfer deed by one day because you recorded the life estate first, then the deed transferring remainder title to Kyle. Airtight.”
I closed my eyes.
Relief did not feel soft. It felt sharp.
“Send me copies.”
“Already did.”
“How bad is this for Lakefront?”
“Bad if their development timeline depends on immediate possession. Worse if their financing requires clear developable title. Catastrophic if they already represented to investors that the parcel was shovel-ready.”
“And for Kyle?”
Frank hesitated. “That depends on what he disclosed. If he knew and concealed it, fraud. If he forgot and failed to investigate, negligent misrepresentation. Either way, the buyer can seek rescission, clawback, damages, fees, maybe more depending on the purchase agreement. The title company may get pulled in, but if Kyle signed affidavits representing no encumbrances, he has exposure.”
“He needed the money quickly.”
“For what?”
“I intend to find out.”
Frank’s voice lowered. “Walt, what do you want to do?”
“I want the truth first.”
“And then?”
“Then I want my home to remain standing.”
That afternoon, I called Dennis Wall.
Dennis had done investigative work for our firm for twenty-two years. He was not flashy. He did not wear dark glasses or talk like a television detective. He was a compact man with a grizzled beard, a bad knee, and the permanent expression of someone who had stopped expecting human beings to behave wisely. He could find a financial skeleton in a locked closet from three counties away if you gave him forty-eight hours and a modest retainer.
“Walt Harmon,” he said when he answered. “Either you missed me, or somebody lied on paper.”
“Possibly both.”
“Good. Retirement made you dull.”
“Can you meet me?”
“Where?”
“Halfway. The diner off County 16.”
“When?”
“An hour.”
