Chapter 3: The Ghost Appraisals

The name Jasper Thorne echoed in my mind. If Clara was building a fictional high-end market, then a local appraiser would be her key.

I spent the next few days in a small, dusty back room at the county records office, hunched over microfiche readers, a grim determination fueling me. The air smelled of old paper and forgotten dreams.

I methodically pulled up every property record within a five-mile radius of my retreat, cross-referencing names, sales dates, and appraisal reports. It was tedious work, a far cry from the high-stakes negotiations I once managed, but the stakes here felt just as high, if not higher.

Hours blurred into days. My eyes ached from staring at the glowing screen.

Then, I found it.

A small parcel of land, just a few acres, a dilapidated cabin really, owned by Clara Thorne herself. It had been appraised three years prior, valuing it at nearly three times what comparable properties in the area were fetching. The signature on the appraisal report belonged to Jasper Thorne.

I felt a jolt. This was it.

My heart began to pound a frantic rhythm against my ribs. This wasn’t an isolated incident. I scrolled through more records, searching specifically for Jasper Thorne’s name in connection with any properties owned by or linked to Clara.

Another one appeared. A vacant plot of land bordering the “Enclave” Clara envisioned, once briefly owned by a shell corporation with an address linked to Clara’s former business manager. Its appraisal value, again signed by Jasper Thorne, was similarly inflated. The dates on these appraisals predated my purchase, going back several years.

Clara hadn’t just started this with Martha. She’d been meticulously laying the groundwork, building a paper reality to support her delusion.

This was more than just a fraudulent document. This was systemic manipulation.

I found five such appraisals in total, all signed by Jasper Thorne, all valuing remote, unremarkable land at prices that would make a Manhattan developer blush. They were spaced out over a four-year period, a slow, methodical attempt to create a pattern, to establish a false baseline of value. Each one was a brick in Clara’s imaginary “Celebrity Enclave.”

I printed out the suspicious reports, stacking them carefully. The evidence was damning, revealing a clear pattern of collusion. Jasper Thorne wasn’t just negligent; he was actively enabling Clara’s fraud. He was her “paper man,” as Leo would inadvertently confirm later.

I walked out of the records office, the late afternoon sun blinding me for a moment. The fresh air hit me like a slap. My initial frustration had now solidified into pure, cold fury.

Clara wasn’t just trying to con me; she was trying to con an entire region, leveraging the illusion of celebrity wealth to manipulate property values and, eventually, extract exorbitant “dues” from unsuspecting buyers. And Jasper Thorne was her accomplice.

I drove back to my retreat, the pile of appraisal reports heavy on the passenger seat. I needed to call Sofia.

When she picked up, I didn’t waste any time.

“Sofia, I’ve got it,” I said, my voice tight with suppressed anger. “Jasper Thorne. He’s Clara’s enabler. I found five ridiculously inflated appraisal reports he signed for properties connected to Clara over the last four years. She’s been building a ghost market.”

“Ghost market?” Sofia repeated, her voice sharp with interest.

“Yes,” I confirmed. “She’s been artificially inflating property values in her imaginary ‘Enclave’ on paper. These appraisals make these properties seem far more valuable than they are, creating the illusion of exclusivity and a high-end market that justifies her exorbitant fake HOA fees.”

“So, she’s trying to manufacture perceived value,” Sofia mused. “That’s sophisticated for Clara, even for her brand of crazy. She’s not just dreaming it up; she’s trying to build a paper trail to make it seem real.”

“Exactly,” I said. “This isn’t just about the fake HOA document. This is about her creating an entire fake ecosystem. These appraisals would be used to convince future buyers that they were investing in a genuinely high-value, exclusive community. The finder’s fee for Martha was just the first piece of bait in a much larger, more intricate trap.”

“Jasper Thorne is deeply complicit, then,” Sofia stated. “This moves beyond negligence. This is fraud. Have you tried contacting him?”

“Not yet,” I admitted. “I wanted to get all the evidence first. But what do you think he’d say? That he made an honest mistake, five times over, always in Clara’s favor? He’s a local appraiser. He knows the real values of these properties. He’s been paid to lie.”

“He’s vulnerable,” Sofia pointed out. “If we expose Clara, he goes down with her. He’s a professional. Losing his license, facing criminal charges for fraud… that’s a big deal for a small-town guy.”

“Which means he’s a potential weak point,” I agreed. “But I don’t want to tip our hand. If he’s already in Clara’s pocket, he’ll warn her.”

“You’re right,” Sofia conceded. “We need to go straight to a legal professional with this. This isn’t just a civil dispute anymore; this has the hallmarks of criminal fraud.”

“I agree,” I said. “I’ve started compiling everything: the original deed with the no-HOA clause, Martha’s sworn statement, and now these appraisal reports. It’s a comprehensive dossier. I’m ready to file with the district court.”

“That’s aggressive,” Sofia noted, “but given the depth of her deception, probably necessary. This isn’t just Clara being Clara anymore; this is a full-blown criminal enterprise, however delusional.”

“She threatened to seize my deed,” I reminded her, the memory stinging. “She forced Martha to sign a fake document, and she’s been manipulating a local official to prop up her fantasy. This is beyond charming eccentricity. She needs to be stopped.”

“I’ll start reaching out to some contacts on my end,” Sofia offered. “See if I can dig up anything else on Jasper Thorne, or any other odd dealings in that part of Vermont. You never know what connections might be hiding in plain sight.”

“Thanks, Sofia,” I said, feeling a slight easing of the tension in my shoulders. It was good to have an ally, especially one as sharp and connected as Sofia. “I’ll keep you updated on the legal front.”

I hung up, staring at the stack of fraudulent appraisals. Each one represented a deliberate act of deceit, a calculated step in Clara’s grand illusion. My quiet retreat, my haven, was being attacked not by a simple misunderstanding, but by a meticulously constructed lie.

My path was clear. I would expose Clara. I would dismantle her “Celebrity Enclave,” brick by fake brick. And Jasper Thorne, her willing accomplice, would face the consequences of his complicity. This was no longer just about saving my property; it was about bringing down a fraud that had preyed on others and threatened to warp the very fabric of local reality. The fight was just beginning.