I Opened My Repair Register At The Emergency Property Hearing

Ruth March met me outside the courtroom with a yellow pad and sensible shoes.

“What do you want to happen?” she asked.

“I want him out of my shop.”

“Today we can work on keeping him out of your drawers.”

She had told me the hearing would be narrow. The judge was deciding Vale's request for quick possession of the leaves. No one would settle the whole criminal case that morning.

Still, I had worn my best blue jacket.

Vale sat beside his lawyer, a younger man who kept tapping a silver pen. Dorian Rusk waited in the back row. Bao stayed beside me until we were called forward.

“You're sure you want me here?” he whispered.

“Very sure.”

Clement sat across the aisle with a lawyer for the state. He gave me a small nod. He did not come over and hold my hand.

I understood. I wished things could be simpler anyway.

Vale's lawyer called the leaves stolen business records. He said I had failed to understand the scope of the job.

“Mrs. Nguyen's difficulties with her sight are unfortunate,” he said.

Ruth stood.

“Her sight isn't the contract.”

The judge asked to see the order.

My original was inside a clear sleeve. Ruth had made copies for everyone. The ink of Vale's signature crossed the printed line below the material terms.

“Did you discuss the transfer leaves?” Ruth asked me.

“Yes.”

“What did you tell Mr. Vale?”

“They weren't part of the sewn book. I would remove them. I asked him to read the material line.”

“Did he mark the return box?”

“No.”

Vale's lawyer stood.

“Surely you understood that private accounts remained private.”

“I understood he owned his ledger. I also understood what he signed.”

“You were hired to bind a book.”

“Yes. That is why I kept a binding record.”

He asked where the carbon leaves were. The state's lawyer answered that they were sealed evidence and gave the judge a receipt and a request to preserve them.

“She had no right to distribute them,” Vale said from his chair.

His lawyer touched his sleeve.

The judge told Vale that his lawyer could speak for him.

I looked at the man who had called my register a little system. He had expected my bad eyes to hide his numbers. He had expected my fear to hand over the rest.

Ruth asked me one last question.

“Why did you keep the leaves?”

“He released them to me. I owned the pattern stock. When I saw something that might concern a missing woman, I gave it to an investigator and kept his receipt.”

There it was. Nothing grand. Fourteen used sheets and two signatures, one from the man who wanted them erased.

The judge denied Vale's emergency request. She ordered that the material be preserved while the remaining issues were addressed. The state would keep its evidence. My lawyer would handle the claim for money.

I had not won every battle. I could open my shop without emptying it for him.

Outside, Vale caught up with us near the stairs.

“This has become needlessly unpleasant,” he said.

Ruth stepped between us.

“Please send anything further through my office.”

He looked at Bao.

“I would have helped you.”

Bao held the door for me.

“I heard what your help costs.”

We walked out into a thin, cold rain.

My knees began to shake only when we reached Ruth's car. She drove me to the shop while Bao followed on his bike. He had refused my offer to buy him a better lock with money I no longer had to spare.

“I'll buy it after my next drawing sells,” he said.

That afternoon, I canceled two rush jobs because I could not hold a knife steadily. The lost work came to $860. I wrote it down. I also wrote down Ruth's $1,200 fee.

Keeping a list did not make the loss small. It made the loss countable.

I taped a copy inside my cash drawer. When fear told me he had taken everything, I could look at the actual figures. My tools were still there. My lease was paid through the month. There were customers waiting for books only I knew how to mend.

Clement called near closing.

“A warrant was signed for freight records,” he said. “Other investigators are serving it. I'm coming over with something the examiner wants your help understanding.”

“Should I make tea?”

“Only if you're having some.”

When he arrived, he put a photograph on my bench. The image showed two broken lines that seemed to belong to different entries.

Then he handed me a second page: a delivery receipt from the carrier.

Its destination field read CEDAR SPUR, CARETAKER HOUSE.