It was a protein found in E. coli.
It stood for innumerable groups in San Francisco, city and county: Redevelopment Agency; Rugby Academy; Resonant Acoustics.
The California Secretary of State business entity registry returned eleven entries, all of which I ruled out based on filing date: They’d come into existence after Marisol Santos Salvador started making payments.
I checked UCC filings. DBAs. Civil courts. Bankruptcy courts. Liens. Credit records. Regulatory bodies. Telephone directories. Newspaper archives.
Nothing.
Marisol faced no outstanding judgments and was not party to any legal actions in San Mateo County or any of the surrounding counties. Her credit was good, her driving record was clean, and she had no criminal record. She possessed neither watercraft nor a pilot’s license. Her sons and daughters had chosen to settle within a few miles of her. A robust, close-knit clan.
As Chris had said, she owned outright the house in Daly City, having purchased it in 1963 for $14,200. Currently its estimated value stood at $799,000 to $1,000,000. The increase said everything you needed to know about Bay Area real estate.
In 1996 she’d spent $57,500 on another property, 8 Abalone Court, Swann’s Flat, CA. Currently its estimated value stood at six to ten thousand dollars.
Swann’s Flat.
The SF of SFRA?
The date of purchase aligned with the start of her monthly payments.
The decrease in value told a story of its own.
I’d never heard of Swann’s Flat. With good reason: It was scarcely there, a census-designated place, population thirteen, perched at the western edge of unincorporated Humboldt County. The Wikipedia article was brief and read like chamber of commerce copy. Amenities included hiking and horse trails, an inn, a boat launch. The nearest post office was in Millburg, twenty miles to the east, as was the nearest elementary school. The nearest high school was three hours away in Eureka. Notable local events included the annual Queen of the Salmon pageant.
Google Images showed dramatic cliffs, savage waves, black sand, gloomy forest, fog. Isolated houses dotted a tongue of land that poked out into the Pacific as if to taste its salt.
From Marisol’s house in Daly City, the drive was six hours, twelve minutes, the last leg along private and unpaved roads. Street View chickened out well shy of her address on Abalone Court.
I called Chris. “Did your grandmother own a second home? Like a vacation house?”
“What? No. Why?”
“I’m seeing another property in her name.”
“Where?”
“Swann’s Flat.”
“I don’t know where that is.”
“Up the coast. Humboldt.”
“What the hell,” he said.
“She never mentioned it to you.”
“No way.”
“Can you ask your mom or your uncles?”
“Let me call you back.”
I put my new search term to use.
The second hit after Wikipedia was the official Swann’s Flat website. I clicked the About tab.
We are a private residential community located on the Lost Coast of California, established in 1965 pursuant to the State Public Resources Code Section 13000-13233...
The rest of the text matched the Wikipedia page, word for word. Impossible to say which had been lifted from which.
The History, Board, and FAQ tabs all read Under Construction!
Returning to the search results, I clicked the third hit, SwannsFlatRealEstate.com.
The name and the feel suggested a real estate agency. But there were no agents, only a list of properties for sale. I scrolled down.
Golden opportunity to own an unspoiled piece of California coastline with fabulous vistas and fresh ocean breezes. Outstanding quarter acre lot a short distance from beach. Seller financing available for qualified buyers. Come join our friendly seaside community!
Photos showed a sunny verdant patch. Pine trees framed a peekaboo view of sparkling ocean. Asking price was $45,995. Contact Diamond Vacation Properties.
I scrolled on.
Hidden gem! Unique south-facing.19 acre lot on a quiet cul-de-sac. Greenbelt in the rear creates privacy and protects your view of the stunning King Range. Qualified buyers ask about seller financing. Find your heart on the Lost Coast!
The photo gallery was so similar to that of the first listing that I had to check to make sure they weren’t the same. Asking price was $21,700. Contact Omnivest Services.
There were about thirty listings in all, every one of them for undeveloped land.
I went back to Google.
Hit number four was SwannsFlatHomes.com.
The color scheme and font differed from SwannsFlatRealEstate.com. In every other respect the two sites were identical.
Same for SwannsFlatProperties, SwannsFlatLand, and SwannsFlatLostCoast.
Same for the next ten pages of search results.
Chris called. “They have no idea what I’m talking about. Could it be a mistake?”
“The databases aren’t perfect, but not likely. Have you run across any property tax stubs?”
“They’re probably mixed up with the other tax stuff.”
“Search for a check. Humboldt County Tax Collector. Something like that.”
I heard him typing and clicking.
“...Humboldt County Treasurer — Tax Collector,” he said. “Two hundred fifty-nine dollars.”
“Do you see a parcel on the memo line?”
The number he read matched the one on my screen.
I said, “Not a mistake.”
Chris said, “Shit. Why didn’t I see this?”
“You weren’t looking. You were focused on SFRA.”
“Do you know what it’s about?”
“I’m not sure yet. Let me poke around a little more. I’ll be in touch when I have something concrete. But Chris? Do me a favor. Resist the urge to stay up all night googling.”
He laughed. “Yeah, sure.”
I’d been squinting at the computer since noon. My eyes were sand, my neck felt permanently crooked forward, and I had to pick up the kids.
Charlotte climbed into the car with her usual greeting: “What’s for dinner?”
“My love, it’s polite to say hello.”
“Hi, Daddy. How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. How was camp?”
“Good.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you play with anyone?”
“I don’t remember. What’s for dinner?”
“I’ll tell you once we’re driving. Can you get buckled, please?”
“I’m buckled.”
“Thank you. Chicken, rice, and green beans.”
“Eww.”
“Charlotte, it’s not polite to say eww when someone cooks for you.”
“I hate chicken.”
“You loved it the last time I made it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You told me, and I quote, ‘Daddy, I love this, can you make it again?’ ”
Myles, facing backward, said, “Eww.”
“See? He doesn’t like it, either.” Charlotte leaned over him. “Myles, can you say eww chicken?”
“Eww tit.”
At home I put her in the bath. The water turned gray.
“Do you just roll around in the dirt all day?”
“Not all day.”
I heard the front door close; the double thump as Amy kicked off her boots.
“Smells yummy,” she called.
She appeared in the doorway. “Hello, everyone.”
“Hey,” I said. “How was your day?”
She smiled tiredly. “There’s only one kind.”
Charlotte said, “Mommy, I had the best time at camp.”