The heavy front doors of the sanctuary creaked open loudly, cutting through the humming sound of the brass machinery. Mark turned quickly, placing his hand back on his belt as a tall man in an expensive suit stepped into the hall.
Arthur Pendelton walked down the hardwood aisle, his shiny leather shoes clicking heavily against the floorboards. His silver hair was combed back neatly, and he carried a silver-topped walking cane in his right hand.
Arthur: Officer Miller, I saw your cruiser parked outside. Is there some kind of problem here?
Officer Miller: Just investigating a noise disturbance call, Mr. Pendelton.
Arthur stopped a few feet away, his cold blue eyes locking onto Marcus with obvious disdain and disgust.
Arthur: You shouldn't be in this building, Vance. The church board doesn't appreciate trespassers.
Marcus: My father built this sphere with his own hands, Pendelton.
Arthur: Your father was a thief who fled town when his debts became too heavy to pay.
Marcus stepped forward, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his hands into tight fists at his sides.
Marcus: He wasn't a thief! You stole his life work and forced him out!
Arthur: Watch your mouth, boy. I own the mortgage on this entire property now.
Officer Miller: Gentlemen, let's keep our voices down inside the church.
Mark stepped between the two men, keeping a firm barrier between Marcus's anger and Arthur's smug smile. The tension in the quiet sanctuary was thick enough to feel like a physical weight in the air.
Arthur gestured toward the brass sphere with his silver cane, poking lightly at the carved oak base.
Arthur: This old piece of junk should have been thrown in the scrap metal yard years ago.
Marcus: Don't touch it!
Arthur: I can do whatever I want with it. The bank foreclosed on this property this morning.
Officer Miller: Foreclosed? On the town church?
Arthur: The church board fell three months behind on their property tax payments. It belongs to me now.
Marcus stared at the wealthy banker, realization dawning on his face as he connected the pieces together.
Marcus: You've been waiting thirty years for this exact day, haven't you?
Arthur: I have no idea what you are talking about, Vance.
Marcus: You knew my father built a lock mechanism into the church structure before he disappeared.
Arthur: Your father was a crazy old man who built useless wooden toys and metal junk.
Mark looked carefully at Arthur's face, noticing the subtle twitch in the older man's jaw as he spoke. The banker was trying hard to appear calm, but his hand gripped his walking cane with extreme force.
Officer Miller: Mr. Pendelton, did you know about the logbook hidden inside the base drawer?
Arthur's eyes darted toward the small open slot near the bottom of the brass sphere, his expression darkening quickly.
Arthur: That logbook means nothing in a real court of law, Officer.
Marcus: It means everything when paired with the original property deed.
Arthur: The original deed was destroyed in the town hall fire back in ninety-eight!
Marcus: That's where you're wrong, Pendelton. It wasn't destroyed.
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