Our Third Blue Shirt Came Home Carrying The Missing Name

Wes put the envelope on our kitchen table.

June brought him a towel for his hair. Then she stood beside me with her arms folded.

“Are you on his side?” she asked.

“No,” Wes said. “But I let him take a picture before I knew there were sides.”

He looked at me.

“I should have called before I went.”

I pulled out a chair.

Grant had offered him $2,200 to appear alone at a second reunion show. There was a separate offer for $5,000 if Wes signed a statement saying I had always managed the crew reserve.

“Did you?” I asked.

“No.”

“Either one?”

“Neither one.”

Inside the envelope were the unsigned offers and the business card Grant had clipped to them.

The card read: Harbor Shelf Equipment. Grant Mercer, Owner.

“Why'd he give you this?” I asked.

“Said the show account was tight. His equipment business would pay me.”

I sent copies to Ruth and Mabel with Wes's permission.

Mabel called before breakfast.

“That's the name on the transfer,” she said.

The reserve account had two authorized people: Grant and Mabel. Mabel had never handled its daily bills, but the bank still had her name on file. After the board's request, she had obtained the statements herself.

On October ninth, $18,600 had gone from the crew reserve to Harbor Shelf Equipment.

The memo said RING RENTAL.

“Our ring?” I asked.

“It appears so.”

“The one we helped buy?”

“Yes.”

I went to the basement again.

This time, Wes came with me. We sat on the cold floor and opened every case.

There were travel sheets, bad photos, and a coupon for a diner that had closed years before. Then Wes lifted a folded invoice.

“There,” he said.

The ring had been paid off in 2008. The seller's receipt listed its frame number. Our agreement said it belonged to the wrestling company after repayment.

Grant's rental invoice used that same frame number.

He had charged the company rent for a ring the company already owned, then taken the whole reserve as payment.

“Maybe he transferred the ring later,” Wes said.

I did not like hearing it. I was glad he said it.

Mabel asked for any sale or transfer record. Grant provided none.

On Monday, his office assistant, Tessa Reed, called Ruth's number from the letter the board had sent.

Ruth asked whether I would meet Tessa at her office. Tessa wanted to bring records she had received while doing her job.

She was twenty-six. I remembered her first week, when she had asked whether the ring ropes needed to be washed after every show.

Now she could hardly look at me.

“I made the blank receipt forms,” she said.

My stomach tightened.

“Blank?”

“Names and amounts. No signatures. He said people were picking up cash.”

She had emailed the forms to Grant. The next morning, he had emailed back a finished file and told her to send it to Mabel.

Tessa had kept the email because she kept every work order.

“Did you see cash?” Ruth asked.

“No.”

“Did you see anyone sign?”

“No.”

“Why come forward now?”

Tessa took a folded page from her bag.

Grant had sent her a statement to sign. It said she had watched all eight workers receive their money.

“He said the board needed it by noon,” she whispered.

“And you didn't sign?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“I needed this job.”

“So did I,” I said.

She began to cry quietly. Ruth slid the tissue box within reach and waited.

The board's lease meeting was set for Thursday. Grant's renewal was already on the agenda. Once rumors spread, he demanded an open meeting where everyone could hear his answer.

The board agreed to hear evidence about the reserve before voting on the lease. Workers could speak if they chose. June would stay with Luis's wife, Ana, unless I asked otherwise.

“I want to come,” June said.

“You don't have to help prove anything.”

“I know. I want to hear you finish talking.”

We agreed she could sit near the door with Ana.

On Wednesday afternoon, Ruth called.

A document examiner had compared the old agreement with the receipt file. The signature and its stray ink dot matched exactly, down to the marks around the letters.

He could explain how the copy had been made. He could not say whose hand had used the computer.

Then Tessa called again.

Grant had just sent her one more email.

This time, he had forgotten to remove the earlier messages beneath it.