LLOYD, PAUL R. by Hags Page B

keyboard. “No, it must be an old owner. The new
owner must have forgotten to file a deed. She can’t possibly be still alive.”
    “Can you check the tax records?”
Bob asked.
    “You’ll have to visit the county clerk
for that.” The worker stepped away from the computer. “Will there be anything
else today?”
    “Thank you,” Bob headed for the
door with Micah beside him.
    “Must be some kind of mistake,”
Micah said.
    “Wait until you see the tax
records.”
    The county clerk’s office, also
located in the DuPage County Administration building, shared the suburban
upscale bureaucratic chic with the recorder’s office with the high ceiling,
white marble floor and gray and beige walls.
    The attendant at the county clerk’s
office brought out the tax record. “This property is paid up to date.” The short,
solid attendant pushed thin glasses up higher on her long nose.
    Bob looked at the black,
leather-bound record book. “That’s not what we wanted to know.”
    “Thought you wanted the tax
status.” The clerk closed the book.
    Bob stared at the clerk. “No, I want
the history of the tax payments.”
    “How far back?” asked the clerk.
    “As far as your records go.” Micah
said.
    The clerk shrugged. “You’ll have to
come back. The computerized system goes back to nineteen-sixty-one. You’re
looking at a downtown Naperville address. We should be able to go back to the nineteenth
century.”
    “Twentieth century will do,” Bob
said. “How soon can you get it for us?”
    “How about I call you in a few
days.” The clerk turned as if to leave.
    Micah asked, “Can you dig out one
early year, say nineteen-ten?”
    “Hang on. I’ll take a quick look.
Can’t promise anything.” The clerk disappeared into a back office.
    Fifteen minutes later, she returned
carrying an old, leather-bound ledger. She slammed the faded black book down on
the counter. A cloud of dust arose as the administrator pointed past Micah. “Hey,
where did that cat come from?”
    Micah followed where the clerk pointed.
“Fritz! How’d you get in here?”
    “Is it your cat, sir?” the clerk
asked.
    “No, he belongs to my neighbor.”
    “You’ll have to take him outside.”
    Fritz ran out of the office. Micah
followed him down a long hallway. The cat made a left turn down another hallway
and managed to sneak between several people who were entering through the front
door. Micah returned to the clerk’s office.
    The clerk opened the tall black
leather book in front of Bob. “Here’s the ledger for nineteen-ten. Let’s see if
I can find the address for you. Yes, here it is. That’s funny.”
    “What?” Bob asked.
    “Must be a same name ancestor.” The
clerk scratched her head. “According to this, the taxes were paid by a Denise
Appleby. Can’t be the same person who paid last year.”
    “Can you run a list for who paid
the taxes every year from nineteen-ten?” Micah asked.
    “Going to cost you,” the clerk
replied.
    Bob raised his stubby index finger
on his right hand. “One year per decade, say nineteen-twenty, thirty, forty and
so on up to the present.”
    The clerk shook her head yes. “How
about nineteen-twenty, nineteen-thirty, and nineteen-fifty. I’ll only charge
you for three pages. You can find every year from nineteen-sixty-one to the
present online for fifty cents a page.”
    Bob slapped his hand on the
counter. “Deal. How soon can you have it?”
    The clerk pointed behind Bob and
Micah. “If you use the kiosk over there, I’ll search the old years for you.
Shouldn’t take long now that I know which ledgers to check for this property.”
    Two hours later, Micah and Bob had
viewed every year since nineteen-sixty-one online and picked up photocopies of
the tax records for the selected earlier years. Every record indicated the
property taxes were paid by a Denise Appleby.
    “So the property has been in her
family for a long time.” Bob peeked around the windshield to be seen over