"These old deed books don't get much use these days," she said, pulling out a large leatherbound volume. "Most folks just want the computerized records. The original deed for the Westwick mansion dated to 1886. The flowing script detailing the property boundaries and the original owner Charles Blackwell, founder of what would become Blackwell Steel. Subsequent transfers showed the property passing down through generations of Blackwells, eventually to Thomas in 1965.
On there's something odd here, Ethan noted, examining the most recent entry. Thomas Blackwell's will was executed in 1975, 2 years before he disappeared, but it wasn't filed until 1980. The clerk peered over her glasses. "That is unusual. Normally, a will is filed for probate shortly after death, but without a body.
Was Thomas Blackwell ever legally declared dead? " Ethan asked. "Let me check. " She disappeared into a back room, returning with another file. "Yes, William Grant filed a petition in 1980. Since Thomas had been missing for three years, the court granted Zed. That's when the will was executed.
So, William Grant initiated the legal process that allowed Thomas' will to be executed. Ethan's suspicions deepened. Was Grant surprised by the contents of the will? The clerk's expression turned cautious. I couldn't say officially, but unofficially, she lowered her voice.
My mother worked in this office back then. She said Mr. Grant was furious, expected to get the mansion himself, being Thomas's business partner. Instead, the will specified the house was to be held in trust until claimed by a specific heir, not named, but described in some kind of riddle or code. And no one figured out the code for 45 years.
Apparently, not until now. She studied Ethan with new interest. You must be the one Thomas was waiting for. When they returned to the mansion, Martha's car was parked in the driveway. They found her in the kitchen unpacking groceries and household supplies.
"Thought you could use these," she explained, setting out cleaning products and basic pantry items. "Can't restore a house on an empty stomach. " "Thank you," Ethan said, genuinely touched by the gesture. "But you don't need to. " "Nonsense," Martha interrupted. "It's what neighbors do. Besides, Noah here promised to show me what you found yesterday. " Ethan shot his son a questioning look.
I didn't tell her about the key, Noah clarified quickly. Just that we found something cool. Martha's expression was innocent, but her eyes held a knowing gleam. This old house has many secrets. Thomas was fond of puzzles and hidden compartments.
Reluctantly, Ethan showed her the key. Martha examined it with careful attention, her fingers tracing the intricate symbols. "Beautiful workmanship," she commented. Thomas was quite the artisan. Did you know he did woodworking as a hobby?