“That zone takes in the main parking apron for my garage,” I said.

“It takes in the whole north edge of the concrete drive,” Harry said, spinning his ring faster against his skin.

“That leaves you six feet of clear space, which isn’t enough for a standard passenger car.”

“Arthur,” I said, leaning in a little.

“Three weeks ago you looked over my thirty-eight-dollar official property survey receipt.”

Arthur adjusted his glasses a third time, his hand shaking a bit as his index finger rested on the bridge.

“There’s no record of a verified township survey in the official board registry,” Arthur said.