He did not touch it.
The corner had peeled enough to expose faded paint beneath.
“There.”
Louise leaned closer.
A white 2.
Then part of a 7.
Tom looked at Ray.
“The unit stayed.”
“The number changed.”
“That matters.”
Ray said:
“No, it doesn’t.”
“The software was updated.”
Tom looked at him.
“Then there should be a conversion sheet showing exactly what twenty-seven became.”
Ray crossed his arms.
“This whole property was renumbered.”
“All tenant records were transferred.”
“Good.”
Tom said.
“Show us hers.”
Ray turned away.
“I’m done.”
He started walking toward the office.
Mike remained beside the unit.
Louise looked at the boxes.
Several now carried red auction tags.
One was marked:
HARRISON 170
LOT A
Louise reached toward it.
Mike said quietly:
“Ma’am, don’t remove anything.”
She stopped.
“These are mine.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
Mike looked toward Ray walking away.
“I have to follow the process.”
Tom said:
“No.”
Mike looked at him.
“You have to follow the correct process.”
“There’s a difference.”
Mike lowered his eyes.
He clearly agreed.
Five minutes later, Ray returned with a younger woman.
Her name was Megan Ellis.
She was thirty-four and worked as assistant site manager.
She carried a thick binder.
Ray said:
“Megan is going to show you the transfer list.”
“Then this ends.”
Megan looked uncomfortable.
She opened the binder on the hood of a golf cart.
The pages were old.
Printed spreadsheets inside plastic sleeves.
Tom stepped closer.
“So old unit twenty-seven.”
Megan ran her finger down a column.
“Twenty-four became 166.”
“Twenty-five became 167.”
“Twenty-six became 169.”
She paused.
Louise’s stomach tightened.
“What?”
Megan frowned.
“There’s no twenty-seven on this page.”
Ray said:
“Keep going.”
Megan turned the page.
“Twenty-eight became 171.”
“Thirty became 173.”
Tom looked at Ray.
“Where is twenty-seven?”
Ray frowned.
“There were revisions.”
Megan searched.
Another appendix.
Then a handwritten correction sheet.
“There.”
She pointed.
OLD 27
NEW 170
HARRISON, H.
Louise leaned over.
“Harold.”
Her fingers touched the plastic.
“That’s us.”
Tom nodded.
“Good.”
“So physical unit twenty-seven became 170.”
Ray looked irritated.
“Which is exactly what I’ve been telling you.”
Tom looked at him.
“No.”
“You’ve been telling us the screen says unit 170 is unpaid.”
“That is a different question.”
He looked at Megan.
“Where did account twenty-seven go in the billing conversion?”
Megan hesitated.
“There should be a customer transfer binder.”
Ray interrupted.
“We do not need another binder.”
“Yes.”
Tom said.
“We do.”