Heart to Heart: Ashton Ford, Psychic Detective Read Online Free Page B

father
die?"
    Sloane replied, "He has become
incapacitated."
    "Ill?"
    "Ill,
yes—institutionalized. I am now the senior partner."
    "You said a family firm. Is it
still...?"
    "Yes. We—wait a minute—what the hell is
this? I get the feeling I'm under examination. Let's get this—"
    I had been reading the
power of attorney. I waved it at the young lawyer and told him,
" I am now the
client you know. I can fire your ass, with all the force and power
of de Medici himself. So let's keep this discussion on the proper
level."
    Sloane glared at me for a moment, eyes
dancing and mind whirling—then I began getting nicely harmonized
thought patterns as he relaxed into his chair with a soft laugh.
"You know, you're right."
    "Who witnessed this document?"
    "Our senior legal secretary. That's her
notary stamp."
    "So she knows de Medici?"
    "Well...not exactly. But he presented proper
identification. And his signature checked out."
    "Who prepared the document?"
    "She did. De Medici dictated it by
telephone, came in later to execute it. Meanwhile I had gone over
it, found it okay and—"
    "When was this?'
    "Just this afternoon. Well, more like
noontime when he called it in. I approved the form and went to
lunch. He came in and executed the document while I was out. He
also left me a message to get this stuff out here as quickly as
possible."
    "Where is your office located?"
    "We're in Santa Ana, near the court
house."
    "So it took you about...?"
    "Well it can be an hour's drive, this time
of day. I came right out."
    "What else do you have there?"
    "Various records and documents related to
the problem."
    I lit a cigarette, studied the smoke for a
moment, asked, "What problem is that?"
    He said, “This is very
weird. Are you saying that you know nothing about...?”
    I suggested, "Let's say that is the case.
I'm totally ignorant. Let's educate me."
    The lawyer sighed, stared disapprovingly at
my cigarette smoke, ran a hand through his hair, sighed again. The
synaptical firings were getting a bit out of sync when he pushed
back his chair, crossed his legs, folded his hands in his lap, told
me: "The state of California is making a move on this
property."
    "What kind of move? Eminent domain?"
    "No. Well sort of, but.. actually there is a
legal question of proper succession to title. It's all very weird
and baffling, and..."
    I was going through the
other documents, just scanning them to get some sensing of what was
there. Original Spanish land grant, or a copy thereof, dated 1782;
validation by the new Mexican government in 1835; successive
recordings and validations as California further mutated
politically into the modern age.
    I commented, "Looks like a lock to me. Goes
back for over two hundred years."
    "Well, yes, there's no question in the early
abstract," Sloane replied. "The problem is, uh, you see..." He was
thumbing through the historical abstract of title, trying to read
it upside down, finally placing his finger at the crucial point.
"Look at this date."
    The entry was dated August 4, 1921. It
recorded the final adjustment to the original land parcel, which
once had encompassed thousands of acres but now was confined to the
headland jutting into the Pacific, the present boundaries.
    I said, "Yes?"
    "Yes. Please note the date. Note also the
name on the entitlement."
    The name was recorded as Valentinius de
Medici.
    I said, "Okay."
    He said, "Look at the name on the original
grant."
    I did. Again, the name was Valentinius de
Medici.
    I said, "Okay. Same family."
    He said, "The Valentinius who recorded the
1921 deed is the final Valentinius of record."
    I said, "Okay."
    "He is the one who retained my grandfather's
legal services in 1918."
    "Okay."
    "He was middle-aged at the time."
    "Your grandfather?"
    "Valentinius. My grandfather wasn't even
thirty yet."
    I was looking more closely into the
documents. They reflected a long de Medici line.
    Sloane sighed, his mental wavelength went
almost flat, and he told me, "This guy has got to