What's a Ghoul to Do? (27 page)

"Now what time is it?" Steven asked me.

"Five after five," I told him. "And anytime you want to fill me in on what you're up to would be okay by me."

"We'll wait another ten minutes; then we'll leave. Help me look for something to buy. That man at the counter is looking angry."

We bought some washers, a few screws, and a wrench for a whopping five ninety-five and exited the store. I followed close behind Steven as we made our way back across the street. I was really curious about what he was up to, but something told me I wasn't going to like it.

Steven paused in front of the now darkened attorney's office and peeked through the window. I was beginning to wonder about him, as he seemed far too comfortable peeping in on people. Turning to me, he said, "Around back." Then he moved off from the door and motioned for me to follow him. When we got around to the other side I stopped in my tracks when I saw what he intended to do. "No way!" I said as I watched him tug on a window about shoulder high.

"Yes way," he said sternly. "Now come. I need you to go through here and open the back door. The window is too small for me, so you will have to go."

"Are you outta your friggin' mind?" I asked him without budging. "That's breaking and entering! What if there's an alarm? What if a cop rolls up? What if Roger is still in there?"

Steven gave me a level look. "I am in my mind, M.J. There is no alarm, and there is only one sheriff here, who is most likely on the highway giving out tickets. Roger has left for the evening. He told me he was having dinner tonight with an old friend and he won't be back until tomorrow. We can get in and get out without causing notice. Now come on."

I noted that he failed to comment on the breaking-and-entering thing, and it irritated me that he was ignoring my pleas for common sense. Instead he had his hands cupped and his legs braced, ready to toss me through the window without any regard for my squeaky-clean record.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I grumbled as I walked over and put my foot in his hands. "Just in case you were wondering, this is going to cost you extra."

"Send me the bill," he said, and hoisted me up. I wasn't prepared for how quickly I'd be shoved through, and landed hard on the other side.

"Owwww!" I said from the inside of the bathroom, noticing only now that my head had barely missed the toilet. "This is so gross," I said, getting up to brush off my hands.

"The back door is out the bathroom and to the left," Steven said as he poked his head through the window.

I grumbled as I exited the bathroom, rubbing my hands together and thinking about how many germs I'd just had a close encounter with, when I bumped into something very large and very furry. I stumbled and inhaled sharply as I felt claws dig into my back. "Yikes!" I squealed, and whirled away, pressing my back against a wall and taking great big gulps of air.

"M.J.?" I heard Steven call from outside the back door. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," I called. "Just bumped into Pete the polar bear." I looked up and up and up at the mounted thing, which had to be twelve feet tall. I gave a shudder and continued around to the back door. I let Steven in and then went back outside, where I turned and stared at him, folding my arms and giving him a look that meant business.

"What are you doing?" he asked me.

"I'm staying out here," I said. "I want no part of this, so whatever you're going to do in there, go do it and I will be out here, safe, sound, and minding my own business."

Steven gave me a scowl. "But I need your help," he said. "It will go much quicker if you are along."

"And if we get caught we go to jail. I don't know about you, but I hear that prison can be a real drag."

"You're not going to prison," Steven said, blowing out a sigh. "I have money, M.J. People with money don't go to jail."

"Really?" I said, putting my hands on my hips. "Tell that to Martha Stewart and Leona Helmsley."

"Please?"

"No."

"I'll pay you extra."

"How much extra?"

"I'll double your fee."

"Triple."

"Two and a half times."

"Two point seven five, and you let me drive your car."

Steven's eyes narrowed. "Sorry, can't do the car. She's special."

"So am I," I said, not backing down.

We stared at each other for a few seconds before Steven finally gave in. "Fine. Come on then; let's get moving."

I moseyed past him and thought I must be just as crazy as he was. We moved into Roger's office and Steven pointed to the file cabinets. "See if you can find my grandfather's records."

"What are you going to do?"

Steven moved over to the desk and pulled out the chair. "I'm going to see what's on Roger's computer."

"This is so insane," I said, and pulled open the filing cabinet.

Neither of us spoke again for several long minutes. I could hear Steven tapping behind me as I looked through all the Ss in Roger's drawers, coming up empty on the name Andrew Sable.

I wondered if perhaps his folder had been misfiled, so I started with the As in the top drawer and began to work my way down. It was when I got to the Es that I found something interesting. "Well, would you look at that," I said, and pulled up a file.

Steven grunted behind me, and I heard the printer click on. "Make a photocopy of whatever you find. The copier is down the hall behind the counter in the lobby."

I rolled my eyes at how he'd become so familiar with the layout of Roger's office. I certainly hadn't noticed the copier, but then again, I figured I hadn't been the one with this giant master plan for breaking and entering in the first place.

I scooted down the hall to the copier and switched it on, waiting while it hummed to life, making noises that served only to make me even more nervous than I already was. "Come on, come on," I coaxed as I watched the digital readout, waiting for it to turn from WARMING UP to COPY. After what felt like an eternity the screen finally gave me the okay, and I wasted no time laying the papers on the glass and hitting the START button. When I was through I made sure the originals were in order, gathered up the copies, and switched the button to OFF.

Just as I was about to breathe easier I heard a click behind me that froze me in place. This was followed by more clicking, and all kinds of alarm bells went off in my head as I searched the area for a hiding place. Someone was unlocking the front door. As the door started to open and the little bell above it dinged, I shrank down low behind the counter and crept over to the copier, wedging myself between it and the wall while praying that my feet didn't stick out far enough to spot from the other side of the counter.

I waited anxiously as I heard someone come in the door, then close it behind them. Belatedly I realized I hadn't had a chance to warn Steven, and as my heart pounded in my chest loud enough for me to worry about it being overheard, I thought for sure our goose was collectively burned once Steven was discovered.

I peeked carefully around the edge of the copier and saw someone walk by the counter and down the corridor. I couldn't tell if it was Roger, but that was who I assumed it was. Pulling my head back, I racked my brain for a way out of this mess as my ears strained to hear the moment of surprise when he met Steven in his office. The seconds ticked by, however, without a peep, and I began to wonder if somehow my partner had managed to sneak out the back before being seen.

If that were the case, then that would leave me here holding the bag. I squeezed my eyes shut as I fought to think of a way out. Steadying my resolve, I eased out of the small space I'd been hiding in. Hearing nothing, I crawled over to the counter, where I quickly tucked the originals back into the file, hurrying to hide the copies in my jacket, then shoved the folder under some other files lying on the counter and hurried to the door.

There, I hesitated a split second, listening carefully for any hint of footsteps, then slowly opened the door a crack. Just as I was about to pull it open and dash out I remembered the bell at the top. Reaching up, I clutched the bell to keep it from dinging and eased through, closing the door slowly to keep the bell silent. With relief I heard the door click shut, and I quickly walked away from it.

Once I had moved down the street, I checked up and down the block to see if anyone had noticed. There was no one on the sidewalk, and no one came running out of the surrounding businesses pointing at me and yelling, "Thief!" so I figured I was in the clear.

I looked around for any sign of Steven. When I didn't see him, I walked back to his car and waited what seemed like hours before he finally reappeared. "Where have you been?" I demanded when he was within earshot.

"Hugging a polar bear's butt for half an hour. Where have you been?"

"You hid behind the polar bear?"

"You didn't answer my question," Steven said.

"I sneaked out the front door when Roger went down the hallway into his office. I was sure he'd see you."

"I was coming down the hallway to check on you when I saw the handle on the door turn. I had no choice but to go back and hide behind the bear until he left. And that wasn't Roger in the office."

"It wasn't?" I asked. "Then who was it?"

Steven's brows lowered and he said, "My father. Come. Let's go see Gilley. There's a little hacking job I've got for him."

* * * *

We got to Helen's B and B a few minutes later and made our way inside. By this time it was dark and getting a little chilly, so I was glad to see a fire burning in the fireplace when we entered. Gilley was on the couch sitting on an enormous pillow with an afghan over his legs, typing away furiously on his laptop.

"Hey, Gil," I said when we entered.

"Oh! Hey, you two," he said with surprise as he saw us. "I didn't expect you guys tonight, but I'm glad you're here. M.J., I've got dirt!"

"Tell us," Steven said as he took a seat in a wing chair.

Gilley squirmed with excitement as he began. "Okay, so you know how you asked me to dig into Maureen and Mirabelle's past? Well, this Maureen character was really a wild one, let me tell you! According to my research, she had a criminal record in Philadelphia that included bootlegging and loan-sharking before she cleaned up her act and moved to Uphamshire.

"She got a job working at your grandfather's house, Steven, and by all accounts he favored her above his other paid help, because there came a point when a parcel of his land was actually deeded over to her."

Steven and I smiled at each other as Gilley told us things we already knew. Neither one of us wanted to point that out to him just yet, so we let him continue. "And Andrew Sable did that for only one other employee in all the years that people worked for him."

"He gave a parcel away to another employee?" Steven asked. "Who?"

"Last year one square acre and the domicile on it were deeded over to a Mr. Willis Brown."

Steven nodded, then signaled for Gilley to continue. "So, the deeds were both held in life estates, but when Maureen died, Andrew recorded an extension of the first life estate to include Mirabelle as well."

"Life estate?" I said. "What's that?"

"It means that when they die the land would revert back to my grandfather and his heirs," Steven said. I looked at him quizzically and he explained, "My grandfather liked the legal parts of real estate. He taught me some things about it when I was growing up."

Gilley bobbed his head up and down in agreement. "Yes, and now here's where it gets tricky. According to county records there is currently an issue before the probate court regarding the life estate held by Mirabelle, claiming it is not valid."

"Why would it not be valid?" Steven asked.

"The plaintiff is arguing that Mirabelle was not of legal age when the life estate was deeded over. In other words, you have to be eighteen to hold title to property, and when the property was signed over to Mirabelle, the suit argues that she was only seventeen."

Steven's brows furrowed. "How could anyone but me be challenging that?"

"Anyone can bring a suit; they don't necessarily have to be considered an interested party," Gilley said.

"Your date with that real estate agent is really paying off for you, isn't it, Gil?" I kidded him.

"Bradley is a fountain of information," Gilley said smugly.

"So who is this plaintiff?" Steven wanted to know.

Gilley's eyes danced, and I knew he had something really good. "Your father," he said dramatically.

"That's ridiculous," Steven snapped. "Why would my father care if Mirabelle had a parcel of land that belonged to me?"

Again I saw Gilley's eyes shine brightly, and I didn't think I was going to like this answer one bit. "I think it's because he's getting ready to lay some kind of claim to it. Steven, did you know that all of your grandfather's land in Uphamshire is being held in life estate by you and your surviving heirs, assuming you have some?"

My eyes darted over to Steven, who opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to stop midthought. After a moment in which we waited for him to speak, I asked, "So who does it fall to if something happens to Steven and he has no heirs?"

"His father, but only on the condition that Steven Senior name a blood-related heir," Gilley announced just as dramatically as he had the first time.

"So Andrew had the last laugh," I said, looking pointedly at Steven. "He resented the fact that your father never claimed you as his son. so much that he forced the issue by adding that condition."

Gilley was nodding. "In order to lay permanent claim to the property, one or both of you has to name an heir. This would put a damper on your father's efforts to challenge the will unless he's got another child, and even then he'd have to prove you weren't a direct relation."

"What if there is no heir?" I asked Gilley.

"Then the property would remain in life estate to the grandson until his death, then pass on to the father, if he were still alive, or his named heir. If there is no heir on the father's side then the property would revert to the state, with the condition that the lodge be maintained as a historical landmark."