“But what good are the forgeries unless—”
He stopped, and turned suddenly pale.
“Exactly,” I said. “We believe the copy here in the archives is the last surviving signed original of the real contract. We were incredibly lucky that it was down here while we didn’t know about the danger.”
“In that case, why not leave it down here?” he said.
“Because now the lender also knows it’s here,” I replied. “In fact, they probably knew well before we did. And they’ve been taking steps to get at it. We have no idea if Ms. Brown was killed merely to frame you, or if she, perhaps, was aware of the scheme and tried to stop it. We need to get that document to a secure location unknown to the Evil Lender—where our lawyer can produce it to prove any new versions of the contract are false.”
“You don’t think I can protect it!” He drew himself up, and I found myself suddenly reminded of Spike facing down a neighbor’s German shepherd.
“I think you’ve done a great job of protecting it so far,” I said. “But these people are unscrupulous. They’ve already killed once to get it. As long as it’s here, not only will it be in danger, so will you. And anyone who comes near the courthouse.”
I could see the talk of danger was only stiffening his spine.
“In fact,” I went on, “the entire archives could be in dire peril. These people will stop at nothing! Who knows what they’ll do.”
Dire peril. Had I gone a little too far with the melodrama?
No. Phinny studied my face for a few moments, then nodded.
“To protect the archives,” he said. “Yes. You’ll convey it to the county’s attorney personally?”
“If you like,” I said. “Actually, he should be here in the morning to take it, and Randall is arranging a highly secure place for it tonight. I’ll personally see it stowed there.”
“All right then,” he said. “Done.”
“Well, there is the small matter of finding it,” I said.
“No problem,” he replied. “As a matter of fact, I may have a little surprise for you.”
He sipped the last of his tea, stood up, walked briskly to his desk, and pulled out a large brown mailing envelope, which he handed to me. Then he opened a nearby file drawer and pulled out a folder.
“The original contract,” he said. “Take the whole folder; it’s tidier that way.”
While I tucked the folder into the envelope, he had pulled out a piece of cardboard and was writing on it.
“There we are,” he said. “Name of the file. Today’s date. Purpose: use by attorney. And your name. I put the full name, so there are no questions. Sign here, please.”
I signed the cardboard, which was halfway filled already with the names of other files checked out by other people. Evidently letting files leave the nest wasn’t completely unfamiliar to Phinny.
Denton had risen and stood watching. He was still wheezing slightly. He hadn’t looked that out of shape. Maybe it was stress—probably induced by claustrophobia. I made a mental note to have Dad check him out when we got back on the other side.
“But that’s not all!” Phinny said. With the air of a magician unveiling a dazzling new illusion, he led us through the room to one of the cells.
“The former town attorney’s files,” Phinny said, pointing to several stacks containing perhaps a dozen neatly labeled cardboard banker’s boxes. “When everyone else evacuated the courthouse, he left all his papers behind, and I offered to take them in, for safekeeping. And shortly after that he was fired, and then the mayor was recalled, and—well, they’ve been here ever since.”
“Do you know if Hamish had a copy of the contract, too?”
“I believe I recall seeing one,” he said. I suspected that meant he knew precisely where it was. And I was right. He ran his fingers down the box labels until he found the one he wanted, and pulled out the folder within five minutes.
“Here you are.” He handed me the file folder and pulled out another cardboard placeholder.
This folder was a lot thicker. I flipped it open and began leafing through the contents.
“Now this is interesting,” I said. “He does have another signed copy of the real contract. He also has two other contracts. One signed, one not. “
Phinny took the folder from my hands and leafed through it.
“Ah, yes,” he said. “This second document is the original loan contract Mayor Pruitt presented to the county board. They felt several clauses were dealbreakers, and told him they’d only sign it if he brought them a version without those clauses. Which he did. That’s the version they signed.”