The Last False Statement Met A Ledger That Had Already Been Filed

Della's proposed statement gave a date and time for my supposed offer.

She said I had asked for $5,000 at the counter on March 14, at eleven twenty in the morning. She attached the top half of a repair receipt to show she had been there.

She had been there.

I had been at an eye clinic across town, getting drops that made the whole afternoon shine.

“We need the full receipt,” my attorney said.

“Nina has it.”

The bottom half read Received By N. Cho.

Nina's ledger showed I had taken unpaid personal time that morning. The clinic supplied my check-in and discharge times with my written permission. Its billing record showed a $65 payment from my card.

Three plain records put me somewhere else.

My attorney sent them to the state's attorney. The defense received them well before trial. There would be no trick of holding them back until a grand moment.

“What if she changes the date?” I asked Caleb.

“Then we examine the next claim.”

I was tired of being examined. He heard that without my saying it.

“We can stop for today,” he said.

We did.

That choice helped more than another promise would have.

The case took months. Summer came to Rapid City. Tourists filled downtown tables. Thunder rolled over the hills while I replaced watch batteries under the same square lamp.

I gave statements, checked transcripts, and went home. When worry woke me, I wrote groceries instead of reading the court file. Rice. Apples. Dish soap. Sometimes I drew the empty chair beside something I needed.

Della never signed the proposed statement.

A later review of the seized messages showed Bruno had sent her its wording. Her lawyer withdrew it. Then she agreed to plead guilty and give evidence about the shipment scheme and the attempt to lure me into the driver's car.

“Does that make her a good person now?” I asked my attorney.

“It makes her a defendant who agreed to tell the truth. The judge will still sentence her.”

Two yard workers also entered pleas. Their records and testimony filled in the break-in: Bruno had ordered it, Della had supplied the visits and times, and they had taken the collection to the warehouse.

Bruno went to trial in early fall.

I wore a gray jacket Nina had pressed in the back room. My glasses kept sliding down my nose.

His lawyer asked whether I wanted attention. Whether I resented wealthy customers. Whether I hoped the case would bring work.

“I want to be paid for work I do,” I said. “I want people to keep their own stones.”

The lawyer displayed a new image of the empty-chair stone.

“Lots of lines cross, don't they?”

“Yes.”

“So this chair could be anywhere.”

“The shape alone could appear elsewhere. We also compared the crystal beneath it, the three cracks, their angles, and the stone's surface map.”

I pointed only when asked.

The independent examiner followed me. Then came the records clerk, the buyer, the driver, and business owners with their freight bills.

One woman held a bakery invoice so tightly it bent.

“I paid because he said my flour wouldn't arrive,” she said. “I had payroll Friday.”

Bruno stared at his hands.

Della described following our car. She admitted entering the address note at Bruno's request and arranging the false ride.

“You called those visits site checks,” the attorney said.

“Yes.”

“Did Mr. Mehta ask you to check on him?”

“No.”

She did not look toward me. I was glad. I had nothing to give her.

The jury returned guilty verdicts on the charged scheme, the stolen property, the extortion counts, and the witness threats. The judge set a later date for sentencing.

Bruno rose when told. One glove fell beneath his chair. He had to bend to get it while everyone waited.

I did not smile.

Outside, I sat on a low wall and ate bread Nina had brought in a bag. My hands shook now that there was no question to answer.

Caleb stood a little distance away until I asked him to sit.

“Is it strange that I just want dinner?” I said.

“No.”

“And eight hours of sleep.”

“That sounds harder than dinner.”

I laughed with my mouth full.

After sentencing and the last required witness meeting, Caleb's supervisor formally ended his role in my case. Maren handled the closing safety review. I had no more interviews scheduled and no service he controlled.

Two evenings later, my phone rang.

“It's Caleb,” he said. “This call is for me. Would you have dinner with me on Saturday?”