"Hold it, Jimmy. You're over my head." Jess got to his feet. "Let me know if you want anything. And by the way—" he winked broadly—"I always did know who busted Soup Gaskin's nose and took out his front teeth."
II
Back in the street, Tremaine headed south toward the Elsby Town Hall, a squat structure of brownish-red brick, crouched under yellow autumn trees at the end of Sheridan Street. Tremaine went up the steps and past heavy double doors. Ten yards along the dim corridor, a hand-lettered cardboard sign over a black-varnished door said "MUNICIPAL OFFICE OF RECORD." Tremaine opened the door and went in.
A thin man with garters above the elbow looked over his shoulder at Tremaine.
"We're closed," he said.
"I won't be a minute," Tremaine said. "Just want to check on when the Bram property changed hands last."
The man turned to Tremaine, pushing a drawer shut with his hip. "Bram? He dead?"
"Nothing like that. I just want to know when he bought the place."
The man came over to the counter, eyeing Tremaine. "He ain't going to sell, mister, if that's what you want to know."