Paying three hundred thousand dollars of debt before being ordered out of the house
“You did not mention a quitclaim deed to me,” I said.
“It was just a preliminary filing to shield the equity,” he said, waving his hand as if dismissing a minor tax detail. “Standard corporate shielding. We will talk about it tonight when I get home.”
He stood up, dropped a ten-dollar bill on the table, and walked out before I could ask him who signed the transfer.
The house was silent when I returned at eight. Marcus’s car was not in the driveway, and the only light in the living room came from the streetlamp outside the front window. I walked to his walnut desk in the corner, my fingers cold as I searched the small ceramic dish on the mantel for the key.
The brass key was hidden beneath two dry acorns and a spare button. I unlocked the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out a green leather ledger and a stack of financial folders.
Near the bottom of the stack was a blue folder marked Elmwood Title. Inside lay a photocopy of a quitclaim deed dated October fourteenth, the document Martha had been unable to print at the county office.
