At three thirty, Douglas spread the land registry pages over his desk.

A hundred twelve pages, every one with a stamped corner.

“The deed is clean,” he said.

“The house is yours, free and clear since the original purchase.”

I stood with my back to the window.

“That wasn’t my question.”

“No.” He set one page apart.

“The question is why there’s a forty-five-thousand-dollar equity loan recorded in June.”