The Entry Receipts Led Us To Four Unbooked Weekend Events

The first thing Celia did was stop people from guessing.

"Send your own receipt," she told callers. "Tell me what you bought and what you were promised. Don't add what somebody else heard."

She made a list with columns for names, dates, amounts, and event sites. Nina asked her to keep the original emails, not just copies of the words.

By Wednesday afternoon, there were seventeen rows.

By Thursday, there were forty-three.

I worked at the hall with my phone turned face down. A plunger spring didn't care that I was angry. A switch gap didn't get wider because a man had lied about me.

At lunch I went to Nina's office.

Our company accountant, Ruth Ives, had joined us. She had helped write the bailment schedule. She remembered Wade saying he didn't want any equipment purchase debt.

"He understood it then," she said.

Restored account access had arrived that morning. Ruth set the bank statements beside the sales ledger.

"There are event deposits here I wasn't told about," she said. "I can't call this a finished audit. We need the source records."

"What can you say?" I asked.

"Enough to ask better questions."

She asked me to leave her worksheets alone while she checked them.

"Even if you spot a typo, tell me. Don't fix my copy."

I folded my hands in my lap. At the repair bench, I always wanted to reach in and make a fault right. Here, keeping a record of the fault was part of the work. Ruth needed to show where every number had come from, including any number she changed.

Four event names appeared in the payment records. Each entry cost $180. Wade had sold packages for two days of play, coaching, and meals.

The Fall Youth Open was one. The others were a doubles weekend, a winter skills cup, and a New Year league kickoff.

The flyers named two rental halls. Neither had a booking in Tall Pine's name. Celia got written replies from both managers.

They had no deposits, signed contracts, or held dates.

Wade had also named Celia as director on all four flyers.

"Did you agree to any of these?" Ruth asked.

"No."

"Any conversation that might explain it?"

Celia opened her paper calendar.

"August ninth. He asked if I'd consider a youth clinic after the regional. I said, 'Bring me a date, a room, and a budget.' He said he'd get back to me."

She turned the calendar so we could see the note.

"That's as far as it went."

Ruth asked me about transfers labeled OWNER ADVANCE.

I had never approved them.

Our agreement required both signatures for an advance of that size. Wade had moved money to his personal account in several smaller transfers.

Nina sent his lawyer a request for a full accounting and a demand that he stop taking event payments while the facts were checked.

That night, Wade called me.

I let it go to voicemail.

"You put those machines back," he said. "People will want refunds if they think we're closing. You're creating the loss."

I saved the message.

Then another came.

"We can fix this. Tell Boone to stop calling halls. I can book something cheaper."

I saved that one too.

On Friday, Nina asked the court to preserve the company records and place disputed event funds under neutral control. My request was sworn, with statements and receipts attached. Wade received notice through his lawyer.

At the hearing, his lawyer said the events were still months away.

"Some are," Nina answered. "Money is being collected now."

The judge asked Wade's lawyer whether he could produce a venue contract.

He asked for time.

The order that followed required records to be preserved and produced. It barred either owner from taking new event fees or making personal withdrawals. Ruth was appointed by agreement to prepare a limited accounting and oversee the remaining funds.

I signed the same restrictions Wade did.

Outside, he stood so close I could smell his mint gum.

"You wanted control," he said. "Congratulations."

"I wanted to repair pinball machines."

"Then stay in your lane."

I held up my copy of the order.

"This is where you put me."

Back at the hall, Celia was setting out score sheets. The regional would open in the morning. Players coming from the Delta had asked about roads. A man driving down from the Ozarks needed a chair near his first game.

Those were problems she could solve with calls and tape and a kind voice.

At nine that night, Ruth emailed a preliminary total.

Sixty-one paid entries. Ten thousand nine hundred eighty dollars collected.

The same amount had gone to Wade's personal account. The company account held $3,460 from ordinary arcade sales, with no event reserve left in it.

Below the figures, Ruth had attached a bank image.

It showed Wade's signature on a transfer made the morning after he changed the locks.