The Deposition Returned My Signature To The Receipt It Came From

I called Mara before answering Sloane.

"Don't debate the attachment," she said. "Forward the message with the original file."

The approval page said I had allowed unlimited editions and let the gallery sign certificates for me. Its date came six weeks before the foundry's repeat order.

I had never seen it.

At the bottom, my signature had a small gray streak through the D. I knew that streak. Grease had crossed my pen on a receipt for a repaired gallery handrail.

"I think she lifted it from a repair receipt," I told Mara.

"Then we find the receipt. We don't guess in a sworn statement."

I still had its numbered copy in my job book. It was dated four months after the supposed edition approval.

The repair had cost $340. Sloane had wanted a receipt for her bookkeeper, so I had signed across the line marked work completed.

The court's records order already covered files used to claim authority over my work. Mara requested the approval's source files, emails, and earlier versions.

Sloane's lawyer produced them after reviewing them with her. He also withdrew the $300,000 claim after receiving our notice log. The withdrawal didn't make her text disappear.

Two weeks later, we sat around a long table for Nolan's deposition.

There was no jury. A court reporter recorded every answer. Nolan had his own lawyer now, and his empty leather folder had become a thick one.

Mara placed the handrail receipt beside the approval page.

"Who prepared this approval?"

"Sloane sent it to me."

"When?"

"I don't remember."

She showed him an email from his own produced account. He confirmed the address was his and the message was one he had received.

It had arrived after I filed suit.

The attachment was the approval page. Beneath it, Sloane had written, I used his signature from the rail receipt. He never reads what he signs anyway.

Nolan asked for a break.

His lawyer said, "Answer the question that's pending."

"Was this approval in your files when you ordered the castings?" Mara asked.

"No."

The reporter's keys clicked.

Mara moved to the foundry letter. Nolan said Sloane had supplied it too. He admitted he had collected the eight unfinished birds and hired a general repair worker to assemble them.

"Did Mr. Whitcomb inspect them?"

"No."

"Did you tell buyers that?"

"No."

Then she asked about the photographs.

They had used pictures and video of the original in our living room. Nolan had filmed it while I was away installing a gate near Mesilla.

I remembered coming home that day. Sloane had complained about the dust on my jeans.

After lunch, Nolan identified the twelve original retail sales. Mara took him through each buyer, date, price, and bank deposit. She didn't let the $1,200 bill of sale stand in for the later transactions.

By the last invoice, his voice had gone flat.

"Sloane said he'd take six thousand," he said.

"That wasn't my question."

"She said he didn't know what we got."

I kept my face still. In my pocket, my thumb rested against the little steel bird's folded tail.

At Sloane's deposition the next day, she first called the copies studio editions. Then she called the signature a business convenience.

Mara asked her to identify any document I had signed allowing either practice.

She pointed at the new approval page.

Mara put the later handrail receipt beside it and opened Nolan's email.

Sloane stopped answering long enough for her lawyer to request a private conference. When they returned, she corrected her earlier statement. She had assembled the page after the dispute began.

I watched her sign that correction before the reporter left.

On the drive back, Mara asked whether I wanted a copy of the transcript sent to my rental or the shop. I chose the shop. I wanted my work records together, where I could put my hand on them.

The receiver was appointed after another hearing on the money trail and the false document. He took control of the named accounts and business assets. He did not take our personal accounts or decide the divorce.

Mara kept that line clear. My separate family case still had a house, shared bills, and ordinary property to divide.

I submitted a factual report about the false certificates and signatures to investigators. The buyers made their own reports. We gave them records and let them decide what came next.

On Friday, the receiver sent an inventory from Nolan's packing room.

A cabinet of shipping records. One sealed crate containing Lena's undelivered bird. The molds had been secured at the foundry.

At the bottom of the email was a forwarded offer from both defense lawyers.

They wanted a settlement meeting, and this time there was no Friday deadline.