The Released Weights Came Home As Wade Lost His Office

The court packet held an order allowing the weights to return to county use after a final evidence inspection. Investigators had measured, photographed, and documented them. Keeping the clock stopped would not make their case stronger.

The county property manager called me about collection.

"Bring your lifting plan," she said.

"And a transfer form."

"I've already printed three."

That was how my name began to come back. People asked me to do the work I knew instead of explaining the theft I hadn't committed.

The interview with investigators took two hours. They showed me the false disposal certificate and asked about its claims. Had I judged the weights beyond repair? Had I agreed they had no historic use? Had I removed their identification marks?

I answered no three times.

Then they showed me an auction payout sheet obtained through the case. Wade's name appeared above a bank account ending in 8831. I had no knowledge of his account, so I said so.

I could identify the parts. I could explain my work. I could not turn myself into a witness to things I had never seen.

"That's what we need," the investigator said when I told her that.

By then, the rest of the consignment had been sorted out. Joel's bell wheel and a loose clapper had been separate lots. Tessa's rail ends and finials had been separate lots, too. With my weights and Calvin's valve, that made six.

The seven logged pickups included repeat trips through courthouse storage. The records of those moves were messy. The auction list was much cleaner. Wade had counted carefully when the count affected his own pay.

The two buyers returned the wheel and valve under written agreements. Investigators kept their records and documented their losses. The remaining lots went back to their public owners after the same evidence checks as my weights.

Ellis gave a statement and his full records. His auction house had paid money to the two buyers to unwind the sales. It would seek repayment from Wade. No evidence showed that Ellis had known the goods were stolen.

I was glad of that. The list of guilty people did not need to grow just because I was angry.

In December, the city fired Wade after its employment hearing. He lost access to its buildings, purchasing system, and grant work. A correction bearing the city manager's signature went to the same offices that had received my suspension.

Leona sent me the delivery list.

I read each name. The people who had heard the charge would hear the correction. That mattered more to me than a large headline.

Criminal charges followed. Wade denied them at first. His lawyer sought copies of our originals and asked for another inspection. We made the records available through counsel.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Joel asked me.

"What?"

"That he gets time to answer."

I thought about my ten business days, his five-day demand, and Bernice standing still at the freight door.

"He should get time," I said. "He should have to use it on the truth."

Winter moved slowly after that.

I fitted new hangers to the bronze bodies. I repaired the worn bushes, dressed a rough tooth, and set the escapement. The restored weights waited in locked county storage until the tower rigging was ready.

My shop had lost money during the stop. I submitted rent, insurance, legal bills, extra transport, and remobilization costs. Leona asked for $9,400 supported by those records. The city agreed to that amount in a written settlement, with no admission of fault required from me.

I signed after reading every line.

The other contracts took longer. Joel needed a new timber survey. Tessa had to inspect the returned castings. Calvin's valve belonged in a display after the steam line was retired, not back under pressure.

All three were working again by spring.

My helper returned for the tower work. I gave him the city's correction and a written schedule before I handed him a wrench.

"You could have told me sooner," he said.

"I should have."

He checked the schedule, then asked where I wanted the rigging laid out. We started there. Trust needed some work from me, too.

One April morning, I pressed the dowel against the clock's main bearing. The tick reached my ear, clear except for a faint double tap.

I moved one wheel just enough to leave a sliver of daylight.

The tap disappeared.

Bernice stood behind me on the tower floor.

"You hear everything with that thing?"

"Only what touches it."

"Sensible limit."

We laughed, and for once no one was laughing at the wrong moment.

In May, the prosecutor called. Wade had changed his position after his lawyer reviewed the bank records, the altered files, and the buyer's saved message.

He had agreed to plead guilty. The agreement still needed the judge's approval.

Leona called a minute later with the hearing date.