The Ink-Stained Trail - Chapter 5

A lot of gumshoes like to pay other people to do research for them. I'm not against the practice myself, when I can spare the cash. But then you have to find someone you can trust to do the job right, and to keep their mouth shut. I didn't know anyone around here who fit the bill, so it was up to me.

The county courthouse was a low, squat building, a fat red tick on a dog's back. It shimmered and baked in the late morning sun. The inside wasn't much better. The tile floors were worn and scuffed, the fans on the ceiling rotated slowly, barely making headway through the hot, still air. The doors to the courtroom were shut, but the silence through the rest of the building made it easy to hear the attorneys blather on about some guy's repeated drunkenness.

How'd they know I was standing outside?

I found the assessor's office at the end of a side hall, wooden door flung open to try and generate some current of air in the room. It was a losing battle. The dame behind the desk looked up uncertainly when she saw me walk in. Early to mid-30s, rounded face with lines around her eyes that said she squinted a lot, some more around her mouth that said she smiled a lot, too. That's promising. In spite of the heat, her hair was combed back neatly into a bun, except for one strand that fell forward and was plastered to her forehead. The sleeves on her blouse weren't rolled up to combat the heat, and were actually still buttoned at the cuff. Her hazel eyes watched me patiently. "How may I help you?"

"Yes, well, I was hoping to do some research on the ownership history of certain piece of land." I hoped the glasses I'd put on were working with my tone of voice to make me look like a professor.

"Oh? Which pieces of land were you interested in?" She remained completely serious, not hostile, but strictly professional. I couldn't tell if she was buying it or not.

"Some of the fields southwest of town. Out near those new houses. Those as well, actually. If that's possible."

At first, I thought doubling down on the disorganized academic was a mistake. She gave me a long, calculating look, but then she nodded, and after a moment where she seemed to stare into space, she retreated into the filing stacks. She returned a few minutes later with a stack of books. I started to reach for one and she balked, like a skittish snitch. "You have to be careful with these," she explained.

She opened the first book slowly. Inside was a map, with papers glued to it. "It's not very efficient, but we're in the process of filing in a more convenient manner. Here's one for the property the homes are being built on." She pointed to a square with three or four pieces of paper stuck to it. I took her word for it, I sure couldn't tell that.

"That would be what you're interested in, right?" Her tone made me look up to see a sly look on her face. Clearly the "earnest historian" bit wasn't making it past opening weekend.

"Yeah, that'll work," I mumbled. Good thing she was more amused than anything else. Maybe this was the most interesting thing to happen in a while. She reached for a pitcher of water and poured herself a glass. She looked in my direction, bit of a grin still on her face, and poured one for me.

"It's pretty straightforward. It's been owned by the Charlanes for the last 80 years. They bought that parcel from the county, after some farms were foreclosed. They applied for housing permits three years ago, I believe, and they've only finished a half-dozen or so."

"Does that include the Charlanes home?"

"No, that's further to the north." She pointed to a different section of the grid, one with fewer papers attached. "That's been in their family for over a century."

"Do they own everything around their new houses?"

"There are some smaller farms out there - the Johnsons, Hansons, the Johanssons, a few others - but otherwise, yes. There were some hard times 80 years back, drought, I think - that led to people either giving up their land, or losing it, and the Charlanes bought it up when things started to turn around." She paused, then her eyes opened a bit wider. "There is one other parcel they bought 20 years ago. The Duncan farm."

I was in the middle of a drink, but that name caught my attention. "What about Maggie Duncan? She own any land out there? Maybe some of these pieces neighboring the Charlanes?"

She got a curious look on her face. "The lady all the somber-looking fellows follow? No, she doesn't own anything. Why?"

She was watching me like a cat eyes a mouse. "I saw her driving out there recently, and when you mentioned a Duncan had owned some land, I thought maybe they were connected, and she'd come back to buy the old family plot."

"Hmm." This lady wasn't buying anything I was selling. "I think she is related to those Duncans. She mentioned something to that effect when she first moved here, and people were getting to know her. But no, she doesn't own anything out there. However. . ." A cloud swept over her eyes, like she was on a different wavelength, as she rose and moved back into the stacks. When she reappeared, she had another book. She opened it carefully, like it might crumble to pieces otherwise. Even so, some of those pieces of paper fluttered like a dying rat's heartbeat. the old glue barely holding them in place.

She skimmed a few pages. "Here we are. She purchased a few warehouses when she first arrived, but she sold those a year ago. Since then, she hasn't bought anything property. I heard she bought some large trucks, though."

"She doesn't own a house? Where does she live then?" It sure wasn't the boarding house I was in.

"She has a room on permanent reserve at the hotel near the main road." Regular Fountain of Knowledge, this lady was. The sly grin was back. I wasn't sure what she thought was going on, but she was certainly enjoying it.

I tipped my hat to her. "Thanks kindly. You've been a great help, Mrs. uh. . ." There wasn't a name plate on the desk.

"Jody Castiglione. Ms. Castiglione. And I'm always glad to help an enthusiastic scholar." Perfect deadpan delivery, but with a twinkle in her eye that made me smile back. Heck, I didn't mind if she had a laugh at my expense.

"All scholars could use help like yours," I replied as I tipped my hat again and stepped out the door.