The Accountant Found A Dry Channel Where Payments Should Have Been

"A divorce petition," I told Julian.

The server handed him the papers. I got into Dad's car.

For the first hour down US 395, I watched snow fade into bare earth. Dark lines of meltwater ran beside the road. Every low place collected something.

Dad kept both hands on the wheel.

"Do you want to talk?"

"Not yet."

"Good. I prepared a speech, but it was mostly swearing."

I laughed so hard I cried again.

At his house in Pasadena, he had cleared my old room. He had also set up my field lamp on the desk.

"I almost called him," he said.

"Thank you for not doing it."

"I wanted him to explain himself."

"He would have explained me instead."

Dad nodded slowly. He knew that trick now.

The audit notice period ended in late February. Talus sent six spreadsheets, three statements, and a letter saying there was nothing else to produce.

Selma hired an independent forensic accountant named Ruth Ibarra. Ruth charged $225 an hour and asked short questions that made long answers look weak.

"Where are the bank deposits?"

"They didn't send them," I said.

"Where are the canceled subscriptions?"

"They said the customers left."

"That wasn't my question."

I began to see why Selma liked her.

Ruth built a list from invoices, client confirmations, and the records Talus had supplied. We did not ask clients to take sides. We asked them to verify dates and amounts.

Cedar Basin had paid $24,000 over twelve months. Dry Willow Engineering had paid $36,000. A small foothill drainage district had paid $18,000.

All three had been marked inactive on the dashboard Julian used to show me.

"A status label isn't a bank record," Ruth said.

She found invoice numbers missing from the spreadsheets. Then she found a payment listed as a refund with no matching refund receipt.

"Could be an error," I said.

"Yes. Errors still need support."

I liked that she left room for the truth to be dull.

She asked me to explain each subscription before she counted it. Some covered one model. Others covered a whole basin and its yearly updates.

"I don't want to charge a canceled user twice," she said.

We checked the dates against the license terms. I marked one renewal outside the audit period and moved it off the list. The total had to stand without my anger holding it up.

It was not dull.

One client sent an email in which Mara had offered a discount for paying a full year into a different account. Attached was a Talus invoice with a bank account ending in 7719.

My retained quarterly statement listed the same invoice number. Its total had been reduced from $12,000 to $1,200.

I stared at the missing zero.

"One line," I said.

"One line we can prove," Ruth answered.

Talus refused the rest of the records. It also failed to pay or supply a complete accounting within the cure period.

Selma filed a civil complaint seeking the unpaid royalties, an accounting, and the audit costs allowed by the contract. She asked the court to preserve records and stop the use of my signature on new notices.

My family lawyer handled the savings and marriage disclosures in a different case. The two lawyers shared records with my written consent.

While records were exchanged, counsel put a temporary service plan in writing. Talus could support prepaid users but take no renewals. New work would come to me. No one had to guess who could send the next bill.

My kitchen table became a place for binders. I labeled tabs while Dad made coffee.

"I used to carry a rod for a crew chief who rounded every reading," he said one night. "Said no one would notice half an inch."

"What happened?"

"A drain ran uphill on paper."

"And?"

"We dug it twice."

He touched the edge of my ledger.

"You shouldn't have to dig this twice."

I was working again by then. Two old clients hired me directly for new surveys, after Selma checked their agreements. I charged $6,800 for one flood path update and $4,500 for another.

For the first time in months, the money arrived where my invoice said it should.

Julian sent me a message after the complaint was served.

"You're making us both unemployable. Withdraw this and I'll consider a fair settlement."

I sent it to my lawyer and did not answer him.

His sales job had nothing to do with my case. I had not contacted his boss, and I did not need to. The records were enough work.

In March, the judge set a records schedule. Subpoenas went to the bank and the payment service Talus had used.

Waiting cost money. It also cost sleep. Some mornings I checked my account before I checked the weather.

Dad offered to sell his survey tools.

"No," I said. "Help me scan the receipts."

He sat down beside me.

Three weeks later, Selma called while I was tracing a drainage basin on Dad's steamed kitchen window.

"The bank responded," she said. "Account 7719 had a balance of $164,000. Julian listed it as closed."