Marine Returns From Okinawa to Find Her Bungalow Already Sold
“The notary was in the hospital that month,” I said. “But without the original physical document, the sheriff’s department says they cannot intervene in a civil title dispute.”
“The original has to be somewhere,” Sarah said, leaning forward. “Your dad is not the type to burn things. He keeps every receipt from 1985 in those cardboard shoeboxes in his closet.”
“He won’t let me near his apartment,” I said.
“He goes to the bowling league every Thursday at five,” Sarah said. “I still have the spare key he gave me when I watched his dog last summer.”
I looked out the window at the gravel parking lot, where a yellow taxi was idling. “I cannot break into my father’s home, Sarah.”
“It is not breaking in if you have a key, and it is your own identity he used,” Sarah said, reaching into her purse and placing a small brass key on the table between us.
“We find the original, we prove it is a forgery,” she said.
“He might be there,” I said.
