"I'll double your fee."

"Triple."

"Two and a half times."

"Two point seven five, and you let me drive your car."

Steven's eyes narrowed. "Sorry, can't do the car. She's special."

"So am I," I said, not backing down.

We stared at each other for a few seconds before Steven finally gave in. "Fine. Come on then; let's get moving."

I moseyed past him and thought I must be just as crazy as he was. We moved into Roger's office and Steven pointed to the file cabinets. "See if you can find my grandfather's records."

"What are you going to do?"

Steven moved over to the desk and pulled out the chair. "I'm going to see what's on Roger's computer."

"This is so insane," I said, and pulled open the filing cabinet.

Neither of us spoke again for several long minutes. I could hear Steven tapping behind me as I looked through all the Ss in Roger's drawers, coming up empty on the name Andrew Sable.

I wondered if perhaps his folder had been misfiled, so I started with the As in the top drawer and began to work my way down. It was when I got to the Es that I found something interesting. "Well, would you look at that," I said, and pulled up a file.

Steven grunted behind me, and I heard the printer click on. "Make a photocopy of whatever you find. The copier is down the hall behind the counter in the lobby."

I rolled my eyes at how he'd become so familiar with the layout of Roger's office. I certainly hadn't noticed the copier, but then again, I figured I hadn't been the one with this giant master plan for breaking and entering in the first place.

I scooted down the hall to the copier and switched it on, waiting while it hummed to life, making noises that served only to make me even more nervous than I already was. "Come on, come on," I coaxed as I watched the digital readout, waiting for it to turn from WARMING UP to COPY. After what felt like an eternity the screen finally gave me the okay, and I wasted no time laying the papers on the gla.s.s and hitting the START b.u.t.ton. When I was through I made sure the originals were in order, gathered up the copies, and switched the b.u.t.ton to OFF.

Just as I was about to breathe easier I heard a click behind me that froze me in place. This was followed by more clicking, and all kinds of alarm bells went off in my head as I searched the area for a hiding place. Someone was unlocking the front door. As the door started to open and the little bell above it dinged, I shrank down low behind the counter and crept over to the copier, wedging myself between it and the wall while praying that my feet didn't stick out far enough to spot from the other side of the counter.

I waited anxiously as I heard someone come in the door, then close it behind them. Belatedly I realized I hadn't had a chance to warn Steven, and as my heart pounded in my chest loud enough for me to worry about it being overheard, I thought for sure our goose was collectively burned once Steven was discovered.

I peeked carefully around the edge of the copier and saw someone walk by the counter and down the corridor. I couldn't tell if it was Roger, but that was who I a.s.sumed it was. Pulling my head back, I racked my brain for a way out of this mess as my ears strained to hear the moment of surprise when he met Steven in his office. The seconds ticked by, however, without a peep, and I began to wonder if somehow my partner had managed to sneak out the back before being seen.

If that were the case, then that would leave me here holding the bag. I squeezed my eyes shut as I fought to think of a way out. Steadying my resolve, I eased out of the small s.p.a.ce I'd been hiding in. Hearing nothing, I crawled over to the counter, where I quickly tucked the originals back into the file, hurrying to hide the copies in my jacket, then shoved the folder under some other files lying on the counter and hurried to the door.

There, I hesitated a split second, listening carefully for any hint of footsteps, then slowly opened the door a crack. Just as I was about to pull it open and dash out I remembered the bell at the top. Reaching up, I clutched the bell to keep it from dinging and eased through, closing the door slowly to keep the bell silent. With relief I heard the door click shut, and I quickly walked away from it.

Once I had moved down the street, I checked up and down the block to see if anyone had noticed. There was no one on the sidewalk, and no one came running out of the surrounding businesses pointing at me and yelling, "Thief!" so I figured I was in the clear.

I looked around for any sign of Steven. When I didn't see him, I walked back to his car and waited what seemed like hours before he finally reappeared. "Where have you been?" I demanded when he was within earshot.

"Hugging a polar bear's b.u.t.t for half an hour. Where have you been?"

"You hid behind the polar bear?"

"You didn't answer my question," Steven said.

"I sneaked out the front door when Roger went down the hallway into his office. I was sure he'd see you."

"I was coming down the hallway to check on you when I saw the handle on the door turn. I had no choice but to go back and hide behind the bear until he left. And that wasn't Roger in the office."

"It wasn't?" I asked. "Then who was it?"

Steven's brows lowered and he said, "My father. Come. Let's go see Gilley. There's a little hacking job I've got for him."

We got to Helen's B and B a few minutes later and made our way inside. By this time it was dark and getting a little chilly, so I was glad to see a fire burning in the fireplace when we entered. Gilley was on the couch sitting on an enormous pillow with an afghan over his legs, typing away furiously on his laptop.

"Hey, Gil," I said when we entered.

"Oh! Hey, you two," he said with surprise as he saw us. "I didn't expect you guys tonight, but I'm glad you're here. M.J., I've got dirt!"

"Tell us," Steven said as he took a seat in a wing chair.

Gilley squirmed with excitement as he began. "Okay, so you know how you asked me to dig into Maureen and Mirabelle's past? Well, this Maureen character was really a wild one, let me tell you! According to my research, she had a criminal record in Philadelphia that included bootlegging and loan-sharking before she cleaned up her act and moved to Uphamshire.

"She got a job working at your grandfather's house, Steven, and by all accounts he favored her above his other paid help, because there came a point when a parcel of his land was actually deeded over to her."

Steven and I smiled at each other as Gilley told us things we already knew. Neither one of us wanted to point that out to him just yet, so we let him continue. "And Andrew Sable did that for only one other employee in all the years that people worked for him."

"He gave a parcel away to another employee?" Steven asked. "Who?"

"Last year one square acre and the domicile on it were deeded over to a Mr. Willis Brown."

Steven nodded, then signaled for Gilley to continue. "So, the deeds were both held in life estates, but when Maureen died, Andrew recorded an extension of the first life estate to include Mirabelle as well."

"Life estate?" I said. "What's that?"

"It means that when they die the land would revert back to my grandfather and his heirs," Steven said. I looked at him quizzically and he explained, "My grandfather liked the legal parts of real estate. He taught me some things about it when I was growing up."

Gilley bobbed his head up and down in agreement. "Yes, and now here's where it gets tricky. According to county records there is currently an issue before the probate court regarding the life estate held by Mirabelle, claiming it is not valid."

"Why would it not be valid?" Steven asked.

"The plaintiff is arguing that Mirabelle was not of legal age when the life estate was deeded over. In other words, you have to be eighteen to hold t.i.tle to property, and when the property was signed over to Mirabelle, the suit argues that she was only seventeen."

Steven's brows furrowed. "How could anyone but me be challenging that?"

"Anyone can bring a suit; they don't necessarily have to be considered an interested party," Gilley said.

"Your date with that real estate agent is really paying off for you, isn't it, Gil?" I kidded him.

"Bradley is a fountain of information," Gilley said smugly.

"So who is this plaintiff?" Steven wanted to know.

Gilley's eyes danced, and I knew he had something really good. "Your father," he said dramatically.

"That's ridiculous," Steven snapped. "Why would my father care if Mirabelle had a parcel of land that belonged to me?"

Again I saw Gilley's eyes shine brightly, and I didn't think I was going to like this answer one bit. "I think it's because he's getting ready to lay some kind of claim to it. Steven, did you know that all of your grandfather's land in Uphamshire is being held in life estate by you and your surviving heirs, a.s.suming you have some?"

My eyes darted over to Steven, who opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to stop midthought. After a moment in which we waited for him to speak, I asked, "So who does it fall to if something happens to Steven and he has no heirs?"

"His father, but only on the condition that Steven Senior name a blood-related heir," Gilley announced just as dramatically as he had the first time.

"So Andrew had the last laugh," I said, looking pointedly at Steven. "He resented the fact that your father never claimed you as his son. so much that he forced the issue by adding that condition."

Gilley was nodding. "In order to lay permanent claim to the property, one or both of you has to name an heir. This would put a damper on your father's efforts to challenge the will unless he's got another child, and even then he'd have to prove you weren't a direct relation."

"What if there is no heir?" I asked Gilley.

"Then the property would remain in life estate to the grandson until his death, then pa.s.s on to the father, if he were still alive, or his named heir. If there is no heir on the father's side then the property would revert to the state, with the condition that the lodge be maintained as a historical landmark."

"While the property is in life estate, can anyone sell off parts of it?"

"No, according to Bradley. The property would have to remain intact; however, if Steven Senior had a legitimate claim to the property and named an heir, the property would come out of life estate and be his to do anything he wanted with."

"In other words, our friend right here and his heirs can live on the property only until their deaths, but his father can lay full claim to it if Steven Junior is out of the picture and his father claims an heir?"

"Correct," Gilley said.

"Is the land that valuable?" I asked, turning to Steven.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Except for the lodge and Willis's house and Mirabelle's property, it's undeveloped forest. This is the only town for about fifty miles, and the nearest highway is forty miles to the east. I can't understand why my father would be interested in it-a.s.suming he even is."

"Oh, I think he's interested, all right," Gilley said. "Think about it, Steven. He's been up here a lot, according to the locals, always with some other guy in a suit. And he brings a claim against Mirabelle for something that doesn't even belong to him. There's more to this story, and if I were you I'd watch my back."

Given the little swim we'd taken that morning, I didn't really like the way these little facts were adding up. "So, Steven Senior may have a vested interest in Steven Junior being out of the picture," I said, giving a knowing look to the doctor in the corner.

"If he's responsible for this morning," Steven growled, as our eyes locked, "I'll kill him myself."

Gilley swiveled his head back and forth between me and Steven as if he were watching a tennis match. "Am I missing something?"

I took that opportunity to reach into my jacket and pull out the copies I'd made of the file from Roger's office. "Given all of this new information," I said as I unfolded the paper, "I think you should have a look at this."

I put the papers on the coffee table in front of me and spread them out so that we could all see them. "Uh-oh," I said as I looked closely at them.

"What?" Gilley asked as he peered over my shoulder.

"Uh ... it looks like I put the copies back in the folder, and these are the originals."

"Hopefully no one will notice," Steven said as he got out of his chair to come over.

Gilley reached forward and picked through the papers, studying them for a moment. "There are three separate deeds here. Look," he said, pointing to the second sheet. "The chain goes like this. This is the life estate to Maureen, which then reverts the property back to Andrew in nineteen seventy-four, when she died. This one, recorded in nineteen seventy-four, right after Maureen died, deeds the property to Mirabelle, which clearly lists her age as eighteen."

"Andrew must have wanted to make sure the property went to Mirabelle, maybe as consolation for her mother's death."

"That's plausible," said Gilley.

"Then why is there another one there?" I asked, pointing to the third.

Gilley picked it up and glanced at it before saying, "This date marks it a week before Andrew died. It's signed but not recorded, and it's a mirror of the other, only it lists Mirabelle's birth date of December second, nineteen fifty-seven-" Gilley paused as he looked back to the original deed. "And this deed lists her birth date as nineteen fifty-six."

"So Andrew knew he had to correct the original deed. This one," I said, tapping the unrecorded doc.u.ment, "is the deed that shows her true birth date and would ensure she gets to live in her house for the rest of her life."

Gilley sighed. "Yes. Because the first deed was recorded with a false birth date, it isn't legal. All that needs to happen now is to record it with the county clerk and be done with it."

"Then why hasn't Roger recorded it by now? My grandfather's been dead for three months. What's taking him so long?" Steven said, pointing out the obvious.

"And do you think your father was snooping around Roger's office looking for this, or something else?" I asked.

Gilley's head did the tennis-match thing again. "Wait a second," he said. ''Where ''Where exactly did you get this from, M.J.?" exactly did you get this from, M.J.?"

I gathered up the papers with a nonchalant shrug of my shoulders. "Never mind about that, Gil. I need you to keep doing what you're good at, which is to root out the info. This time I want you to concentrate on Steven Senior. We need to know why he's so interested in this parcel of land."

"Wait a minute," Gilley demanded as I got up and stretched with a yawn. "You two are holding out on me!"

Steven got to his feet as well and mimicked my stretch. "I am ... so ... like a shrub," he said.

Gilley and I both looked at him before I broke into a smile. "You're bushed, dear, not shrubbed."

"Yes, that too," Steven said with a flip of his hand. "If you need me, I'll be in my room."

"Me too," I said, following him toward the stairs.

"Hey!" Gilley squawked. "Come back! You're not playing fair!"

"Night, Gil," I said with a wave of my hand.

"It's against the law to be mean to the handicapped!" he squawked.

Later, after I'd put Doc to bed, I heard a soft knock on my door. I hurried to answer it, afraid the noise would wake my sleeping bird. I opened the door to find Steven in a pair of black boxer briefs and a matching T-shirt. In his hand he held two snifters with some sort of amber-colored liquid. "Nightgown?" he asked.

I leaned against the doorjamb and folded my arms together. "I thought you were shrubbed and headed to bed?"

Steven raised one of the snifters to his lips and, looking at me over the rim, he sniffed the contents. "Do you like scotch, M.J.?"

I smiled, liking the mix of his foreign accent with the deep, masculine timbre of his voice. "I've been known to knock back a few shots in my day."

Steven held out the other snifter to me, his eyes lingering on mine until I took it. When I did, he pushed into my room. "Come on in," I said sarcastically.