Ellis Played His Missing Interview While The Director Watched The Clock

Ellis's daughter placed his walking frame within reach of his chair.

"He can answer for himself," she told Beth. "He just can't hear you if you face the window."

Beth moved her chair.

I had last seen Ellis at a reunion with black hair and a sore back. Now his hands were thin, and his hearing aids made small silver curves behind his ears.

"You kept the slip," I said.

"They blamed drivers when loads went missing. I learned to keep slips."

His paper was the driver's copy of the first Cedar dispatch. Its serial number matched the entry in my ledger.

Below the printed destination, Wade had written that trucks H-twelve and H-nineteen were to stay on the Cedar route until the guest cistern was full.

Under that, in smaller writing, was another line.

Hospital can draw locally.

"There was no safe local source," I said.

"We told him," Ellis said. "You sent back the test result."

I remembered the water in that ditch. Clear enough to fool a person. Our test had failed it.

"What did Cedar need?" Beth asked.

"New guest washrooms. An inspection party was coming. Their cistern had never been filled."

"Did you see that?"

"I drove a bulk truck there before I was moved to Mahin's little one. I filled it myself. That's what I can say."

Beth asked permission to scan the slip. Ellis watched her place it flat, handle the corners, and return it.

Then he asked about his interview.

She opened the intake record on her laptop.

Withdrawn at subject's request.

Ellis shook his head.

"My daughter brought me here in March. I sat in this room. I never withdrew a thing."

His daughter took out her phone.

"He asked me to record a copy for the family. Mr. Hollis said that was fine."

She played it.

Wade's voice came from the small speaker, warm and patient.

"Tell me about Azimi's water section."

Ellis's recorded voice answered.

"She kept us straight. We used W-six and W-nine after you pulled the big trucks to Cedar."

There was a short silence on the recording.

Then Wade said, "Let's start that bit again."

Beth's face changed. It was a small change, but I saw her stop hoping this would settle itself.

"May I have the complete file?" she asked the daughter. "With your permission and his."

They agreed. She saved the original recording and logged who had supplied it.

"The museum recorded this too," I said.

"It should have," Beth answered.

She called the part-time collections assistant and asked for the raw interview folder. While we waited, I checked Ellis's consent form.

His signature permitted storage and public use of his interview. Nothing on the page withdrew it.

The assistant sent the folder link.

Beth opened a file called Vance Final. It ran four minutes.

The daughter's recording ran nineteen.

"Maybe it's an excerpt," Beth said.

She opened the transcript.

It said Ellis had handled general camp supplies and could not confirm a hospital water mission.

Ellis leaned toward the screen.

"I didn't say that."

At the bottom was a review box. Wade Hollis had approved it three weeks earlier.

The withdrawal note was dated the next day.

"Don't change anything yet," I told Beth. "Save what's there."

She exported the file history and asked the assistant to preserve the raw folder. That request went to the board chair too.

My own relief surprised me. It was not joy. It felt like setting down a full sample case after carrying it too far.

We had found both drivers. Now we had to keep their words from disappearing twice.

At three, June Talley, the board chair, joined us by speakerphone.

"Wade says there are serious questions about the ownership of this ledger," she said.

"I submitted the release sheet," I answered.

"I've read it. I mean his claim, not my conclusion."

She asked Beth to describe the changed interview. Beth did, without softening it.

June was silent for several seconds.

"I'm authorizing a temporary hold on the archive transfer. Friday remains a review date, not a release date."

I closed my eyes.

"Please put that in writing."

"It's going out now."

Ellis tapped his slip against the table.

"And who checks his bills?"

Beth looked at the contract.

"The county can inspect expenses charged to the grant."

June asked her to send the records before anyone approved the final payment.

We were leaving when Beth's printer began to run. She caught the first page and read it twice.

It was a notice from the county grant auditor.

The audit would begin Tuesday morning, and Wade was required to bring his source files and payment records.