My Family Tried to Evict Me from the Craftsman House My Grandparents Left Me
“The desk was broken into yesterday,” I said, watching his face. “The lock is ruined.”
His expression did not change. He adjusted his watch strap again. “Then you should have kept better track of his papers. If you do not produce those drafts by Friday, I will file a petition to have the public administrator take over the estate.”
“You cannot do that,” I said.
“Watch me,” he said. He picked up his briefcase and walked out, leaving the front door wide open.
At ten past nine, a flashlight beam swept across my bedroom window. The light moved slowly, tracing the line of the old oak tree in the side yard.
I pulled on my shoes and walked out the side door into the cool night air. The grass was wet with early dew.
A man in an orange safety vest was standing near the property line, holding a yellow surveying prism on a tall metal pole. A tripod with a digital transit instrument was set up near the curb.
“Can I help you?” I asked, stopping five feet from him.
