The Judge Asked Why A Buyer Kept Paying Puppet Rent

I wanted to answer the false bill of sale before breakfast.

Ruth made me eat first.

“Then bring every document dated after that supposed sale,” she said.

I laid them across her office table. The newest rental inventory had been signed three weeks after the date on the sale sheet. There were also four rent payments after that date, marked Puppet Lease in the company records.

“Don't try to prove the sale false by saying you were in Omaha,” Ruth said. “People can sign things while traveling. These records speak to what actually happened.”

The sale sheet had no list of figures, no payment record, and no witness. It used a cropped version of the signature I had supplied for an old vendor form.

I recognized the heavy ink spot beside the final letter. My pen had leaked that day. I found the old form in my blue case.

Ruth sent both documents to Russell's lawyer and asked for the original sale record and its history.

Then she prepared me for the hearing on our temporary requests.

“Answer what you're asked. If you don't know, say so.”

“I know my own puppets.”

“Then start there.”

At the courthouse, I wore my clean road shirt. Alma had pressed it at the motel with an iron that leaked water. She said a few damp spots made me look less dangerous.

The courtroom smelled of paper and old varnish.

Russell sat beside his lawyer, tapping one foot. He gave me the bright smile he used when a school check was late.

“Still time to be reasonable,” he whispered as I passed.

I touched the thimble in my pocket and kept walking.

Before the judge took the bench, his lawyer asked for a short conference with Ruth. They spoke in the hall. When they returned, Russell's smile was gone.

His lawyer said they were withdrawing the bill of sale. Russell could not support it as a genuine agreement.

That did not erase the fact that it had been offered. Ruth kept it with the other records.

The judge reviewed the lease and the later payments.

“Why would a buyer keep paying rent on property it already owned?” she asked.

Russell leaned toward his lawyer. They spoke too softly for me to hear.

When he answered, he called the payments a bookkeeping habit.

Ruth pointed to his signed inventory. It was a new document, prepared after the supposed sale, with eighteen numbered entries.

I took the stand and explained how I kept those numbers.

“Where is number seven?” the judge asked.

“Under the king's left heel. The number stays with the main body. Every new hand or foot gets entered in the repair column.”

“And the materials?”

“Bought by me. The company later bought repair supplies under the lease. Those receipts are in a separate section.”

I had brought no puppet to wave around. Ruth had brought photographs, receipts, and the papers Russell signed.

The judge gave us time to discuss an agreed order. By noon, Russell agreed that the eighteen listed marionettes belonged to me. The order protected my possession and barred him from selling or pledging them.

He also agreed to stop using my name or either crew member's signature to approve bookings. The case over money and the full accounting would continue.

It was less grand than the speech I had imagined in the gravel.

It was also enforceable.

Outside, Eli waited on the steps with Tess and Ben.

“Can he take them now?” Eli asked.

I showed him the stamped order.

“He has agreed he can't.”

Tess read the list slowly, as if each wooden name were a person getting off a bus safely.

Alma bought us coffee from a stand across the street. I set my thimble beside the cup, and it rang against the saucer.

“There's your victory bell,” she said.

“Too small.”

“Fits the budget.”

Russell came down the steps while we were still there.

“You have your toys,” he said. “Now try booking a town without me.”

Ben started to answer. I lifted one hand.

“We still need the money records, Russell.”

“Ask Della where the money went.”

He walked away without looking at Alma.

That evening, Ruth called us back to her office. Della's lawyer had asked for a meeting and agreed to share more booking records with both sides.

Della was waiting when we arrived. For the first time, she had no phone in her hand.

She pushed a thick envelope across the table.

“Before he puts this all on me,” she said, “you should read what Russell told me to send next.”