His Own Signature Followed The Deposits Into The Courtroom

I forwarded both messages to Ruth. Then I put my phone in a drawer and went back to cutting a practice letter.

The first line went crooked.

I stopped before making it worse.

By the time our civil case reached trial in February, I had learned that waiting could be work. There were records to answer, pages to check, and calls to make even when nothing had changed.

Ellen's final audit cost $900. My legal bill reached $2,400, including the retainer. Ruth kept the invoices beside the agreement's enforcement clause.

The last audit table had nine rows and no guesses.

Ellen had removed one expense from my first list: a replacement hose I had bought after the truck returned. I could not show that Wesley had damaged the old one.

"Then it doesn't belong in this claim," I told her.

She drew a line through it. I wanted every dollar we asked for to survive the same questions I had asked about his numbers.

Four deposits remained in the business reserve. Five had gone into Wesley's personal account. No supplier had received payment for any of the nine memorials.

At the courthouse, Noel sat beside Alma. They had brought original receipts in grocery bags and document sleeves. June's butterfly drawing lay between Alma's pages.

Wesley's lawyer had the same bank records we had. He no longer argued that a bench might be sitting somewhere.

Instead, he argued that I had allowed Wesley to run sales and should share the loss.

That part was hard to hear because there was a piece of truth inside it.

I had allowed him to run sales. I had trusted the wrong man with a hard part of our work.

But trust had not signed those false supplier sheets.

Ruth called the yard manager first. He brought his saved quotes and his order register.

"Did you issue these nine acknowledgments?" she asked.

"No."

"Did Mr. Feliciano approve a purchase with you for these jobs?"

"No. There were no purchases."

Alma described watching Wesley write his signature. Noel did the same. Both identified the receipts that had come from the truck.

The bank records showed where their checks had cleared.

When I took the witness chair, Ruth asked what my approval would normally have meant.

"That I checked the size, finish, spelling, and cost before we committed money. A wrong letter can be fixed in a stencil. It can't always be fixed in granite."

"Did you approve these orders?"

"No."

Paul asked whether Wesley had sometimes signed routine pickup slips for both of us.

"He signed his own name when he picked up my supplies," I said. "He didn't need to write mine."

"You benefited from his sales work?"

"From real sales, yes. There was no stone to engrave on these."

Ruth then presented Wesley's messages. He did not deny sending them.

On the stand, he called the approvals placeholders.

"You wrote Paid And In Production," the judge said, looking at Alma's sheet. "What was that holding a place for?"

"I expected to catch up."

"With what money?"

He began talking about slow months, a lost contract, and how difficult I could be about costs.

The judge asked him to answer the question.

"Future jobs," he said at last.

I watched Alma close her eyes.

Wesley admitted signing the family receipts, taking the five checks in his own name, and making the supplier pages. He said he had planned to replace the money before deliveries came due.

He also admitted there was no written permission for the camper payment.

The judge rejected his damage claims after reviewing the inspection records. She confirmed my ownership of the listed equipment and found that Wesley owed the business the $15,000 he had diverted, for return to the families.

There was no loud moment. The clerk kept typing.

After the ruling, both lawyers worked out payment terms for a signed order. Wesley agreed to sell the camper, put $15,000 into the refund fund, and pay the $3,300 in documented enforcement and audit costs. Our partnership would be wound down under Ellen's final accounting.

He also signed a correction for the same contact list he had used against me. It stated that I had been his partner, owned the truck and equipment, and had not caused the marker damage he alleged.

I read it twice before agreeing to the terms.

In the hall, he leaned close enough for me to smell mint.

"You got what you wanted."

"The families haven't been paid yet."

He looked past me toward the exit.

I went home and checked the truck's oil. There were still names to cut the next morning.

Nine days later, Ruth called. The camper sale had closed for $16,400 after selling costs.

She had the transfer confirmation in front of her.