“The computer ledger only goes back ten years,” Clara said in her dry, polite tone.

“If you want to see how parcel 412 was handled before your grandfather passed, we have to go back into the physical vault room.”

She unlocked a low iron door and led me into a narrow storage room lined with steel shelves that reached the ceiling.

The air inside was cold enough that my breath fogged against the bare bulb hanging from the wooden rafters.

Clara pulled a heavy canvas-bound ledger with reinforced leather corners off the third shelf.