We left the library and drove three blocks to the township administration building on Elm Street, getting there at a quarter to two.

A senior town surveyor named Miller met us at the long laminate counter, holding a heavy canvas ledger.

Miller dropped the ledger onto the counter with a dull thud and opened the brass rings to the Oak Creek section.

“You’re asking about thirty-four Oak Creek Lane?” Miller asked.

“I’ve got the official thirty-eight-dollar property survey receipt from five years back,” I said, setting the paper flat on the counter.

Miller glanced at my receipt, took a pair of silver reading glasses out of his shirt pocket, and turned the ledger to a map stamped in fresh blue ink.