The Long Remembered Thunder by Keith Laumer

Back in the street, Tremaine headed south toward the Elsby Town Hall, a squat structure of brownish-red brick, crouched under yellow autumn trees at the end of Sheridan Street. Tremaine went up the steps and past heavy double doors. Ten yards along the dim corridor, a hand-lettered cardboard sign over a black-varnished door said "MUNICIPAL OFFICE OF RECORD. " Tremaine opened the door and went in.

A thin man with garters above the elbow looked over his shoulder at Tremaine.