His Sworn Statement Met The Records He Had Signed

Ellen read the statement while the judge finished another matter.

“He says the later notes just renewed the first one,” she whispered. “He says that first debt was paid eight years ago.”

“Then why did he sign eight separate wage schedules?”

“That's what we'll show.”

Across the aisle, Blaine took off his glasses and polished them. He had never needed glasses to read a menu at company dinners. That morning, he seemed to need them for everything.

The hearing concerned the equipment, not a final ruling on every dollar. Ellen said that twice, once to me and once to the judge.

She presented the security agreement and the signed schedule naming the three stands on the shipment order. Then she presented the filed lien record and the assignment to Blue Chalk.

“Who controls the holder?” the judge asked.

“I do,” I said when Ellen called me to the stand. “I'm its sole member.”

Blaine's lawyer rose.

“Mr. Tern has portrayed himself as an employee.”

“I was an employee,” I said. “I also held these notes. Later I assigned them to my holding company.”

“So you concealed your position?”

Ellen put the acknowledged assignment before me.

“Whose signature appears below yours?”

“Blaine Harcourt's.”

The room stayed quiet while the judge read it.

I kept looking at the little glass pitcher beside the witness chair. There was a thumbprint on its handle. I could hear the room's vent rattling above me. I had never testified before, and those small things seemed easier to face than Blaine sitting ten feet away.

Then Ellen asked another question, and I looked back at the page.

“Let's address the claimed payment,” she said.

His lawyer offered an old ledger page. It showed an $18,000 check and the words TERN DEFERRED ACCOUNT.

I knew that check number.

“That's the compressor deposit,” I said.

The lawyer frowned.

“You remember a number from eight years ago?”

“I wrote it on the delivery inspection.”

I had helped choose the compressor when the old one began sending oil into the air lines. The first month of deferred pay had helped keep money in the company while it bought that replacement.

“Did you receive that check?” Ellen asked.

“No.”

Priya had brought the archived bank image in her packet because the ledger account was already one of her flagged items. The payee was an equipment supplier in Omaha. The endorsement matched the supplier's name.

Nobody had paid me $18,000. Someone had later used the ledger label to pretend they had.

The judge studied the check, then looked toward Blaine.

“That doesn't appear to support the statement submitted here.”

His lawyer asked for a moment with his client.

While they spoke, Ellen laid out the eight annual schedules. Each named a different year. Each showed another $18,000 earned and unpaid.

The last page was a balance confirmation Blaine had signed six months earlier for our outside bookkeeper.

Principal outstanding: $144,000.

I had drawn two lines below that figure in my copy. They were as straight as the lines under my final pressure readings.

Blaine's lawyer returned to the table.

“We will need further time to investigate the accounting,” he said.

“You may have it,” the judge said. “The equipment will remain where it is.”

She entered a temporary order barring removal, sale, or further pledging of the listed equipment without court permission. Ordinary testing and service could continue. The order required the company to preserve its records and provide an inventory. Ellen arranged the security the court required.

There would be another date if the parties failed to settle.

Outside, Blaine caught up with me near the stairs.

“You enjoyed that.”

I thought of the compressor check. I had remembered writing it down because I had stayed late to inspect the delivery while my father waited at home for help with his furnace.

“I would have enjoyed getting paid,” I said.

Priya came through the doors with Helen.

“The board suspended his signing authority,” Helen told Ellen. “Everett and I approved it this morning. The bank has notice.”

Blaine pointed at her.

“You'll hear from my shareholder lawyer.”

“Please have them contact counsel,” Helen said.

She looked pale, but she didn't step aside.

In the parking lot, Priya handed me a revised debt calculation. With the interest due through the proposed closing, Blue Chalk's payoff came to $165,840.

“Cedar Span wants a clean resolution,” she said. “They still want the lab.”

“And the twelve people?”

“They want that resolved too. They asked for proposed terms.”

Ellen set her box in the trunk.

“Then we'll write them.”

Before we could leave, Blaine's lawyer crossed the lot with another envelope. Inside was an offer for my full payoff, but only if I signed a settlement that said nothing about the technicians.