“And Ingrid Weiss is right,” said Peter after typing away on his laptop for a moment. “The book’s not worth much to start out with, even with Emmy Noether’s paper.”

“Who was Emmy Noether?”

“Einstein called her the most important woman in the history of mathematics,” said Peter. “I only know about her because I read that book you gave me about Jewish scholars who lost their positions in Nazi Germany.”

“I skipped the part about math and science,” said Jean sheepishly, “once I had checked the index for my grandfather.”

“Apparently Noether developed something called the theory of rings. I’ve no idea what it is, but this volume contains the paper she published on the subject. But look . . .” Peter spun his laptop around. “There are six copies for sale right now, ranging from fifty to a hundred dollars.”

“So it’s not exactly a rare book.”

“No,” said Peter, taking up the book again. “Look, you’re an art historian. I think you need to approach this as a historical investigation.”

“I’m not sure what I’d investigate. I already know everything I can find out about my grandfather.”

“I don’t think it’s your grandfather you need to investigate,” said Peter, looking up from the book. “It’s Ingrid Weiss.”

The basement of the Lansing County courthouse was well lit by the late morning sun pouring through the small, rectangular windows set high in the walls. Thank God for that sunshine, thought Patton. On a dim, overcast day, this basement would be just the sort of place to trigger a flashback, and Nemo had refused to let her turn on the overhead fluorescents.

“No point in announcing we’re down here,” he said.

They descended the stairs into a maze of rough wooden bookcases crammed with ledgers.

“Don’t they have all this stuff on computers?” said Nemo.

“Not in Alta Vista,” said Patton. “Nothing here but good old-fashioned deed books. Luckily there is a set of volumes that just lists owners with cross-references to the deed numbers.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I helped them arrange everything down here after a water pipe burst a couple of years ago.”

“You arranged it all? That seems convenient.”

“Well, I’m the closest thing to an archivist in Alta Vista.”

“You know how to drop down out of the line of fire, you handle a Beretta M9 like you were born with it, you seem to expect people to shoot at you, and you expect me to believe you’re an archivist?”

“I told you I ran the library,” said Patton. “Here we go, volume two, D through F.” She pulled a large, dusty, clothbound ledger off a shelf and carried it over to a utilitarian metal table at one end of the room. When opened, the book covered almost the whole tabletop and Patton began rapidly flipping the pages.

“It stinks,” said Nemo as a sour smell permeated the room.