Sedona Law 6 Page 2

  Judge Preston was a no nonsense woman, with slick black and gray hair, wiry glasses and no smile.

  “You may be seated,” she barked.

  The wooden chairs scraped the floors as the parties all sat. I glanced over at Vicki who winked at me. She had this.

  “Please state your appearances,” the judge ordered.

  “Vicki Park and Henry Irving,” Vicki stood. “Representing Topaz Whitestone.”

  She sat and Onyx’s lawyer stood. “John Markle and Phil Parker representing Onyx Thomspon.”

  “Thank you,” Judge Preston states and then she read from a document, “This case is about Boho Design, a shop in downtown Sedona that sells handmade crafts and pottery. Is that correct?”

  The judge looked down her nose at Topaz.

  “Yes, your honor,” she squeaked out, and I noticed her fingers dig into her abdomen as if to quell the anxiety.

  “And you,” Judge continued, “and your now ex-husband, were the co-owners of this shop. Is that correct?”

  “That is correct, your honor,” Onyx answered boldly.

  “So,” the judge set the papers down and glanced back and forth at the parties. “You are now divorced. And how long ago was that finalized?”

  “The divorce was finalized a year ago,” Onyx answered. “Last September.”

  “Last September,” the judge repeated.

  Then she nodded toward Topaz, “You claim that he fraudulently got you to sign over your rights to the shop.”

  “Yes your honor,” Topaz answered.

  “And how did he do that?” the judge asked.

  “Well,” Topaz glanced at Vicki who stood up.

  “My client argues that the ownership papers were placed within the divorce papers,” Vicki said. “She signed the divorce papers, and then the defendant returned to her house with the papers, and met her as she was walking out the door. Topaz relates that they had a pleasant conversation in which Onyx Thompson pledged to remain amicable with regard to the division of assets, and then he explained that he was on his way to the courthouse to turn in the divorce papers. He then told her she had forgotten a signature, and flipped to a signature line in the documents. He led her to believe that she was signing the divorce papers, when in fact, she was signing over her rights to the store.”

  “Your honor,” Onyx’s lawyer jumped in. “It’s not my client’s fault that the plaintiff didn’t read the documents she was presented.”

  “You’ll have your chance, Mr. Thompson,” the judge said. “Ms. Park, please proceed.”

  “We argue,” Vicki said, “that the defendant’s intent was to deliberately mislead, which is obtaining a signature by deception under Arizona State Code 13-2005.”

  “Uh-huh,” the judge nodded as she scribbled down a note. “Mr. Thompson, you pleaded not guilty in the arraignment.”

  “That’s correct,” Onyx’s lawyer John Markle responded.

  “So what happened then?” the judge asked.

  “My client argues that the plaintiff knew full well what she was signing away,” Markle said. “She had told Mr. Thompson in earlier conversations that the store was a burden and it was belaugered with financial trouble. It was also a reminder of their previous relationship, and she wanted nothing to do with the store.”

  Topaz shifted in her seat and I heard her whimper in desperation. She whispered, “He’s lying. He straight up lying.”

  “Ms. Whitestone,” Markle gestured toward our table, “was willing to give up the rights to the store for the title of the couple’s only vehicle, a vintage Volkswagen Beetle that she loved.”

  It did occur to me that Topaz drove around in an old VW Beetle.

  “That’s not what happened,” Topaz stage whispered to both Vicki and me. I continued to listen.

  “Did he sign over the title?” Judge Preston asked.

  “Yes, your honor,” Markle said. “We have a photocopy of the transferred title.”

  The judge held out her hand. “Let me see that.”

  Markle crossed the room and handed it to the balliff. I turned to Vicki who appeared nonplussed. I knew this detail was a sore point for both Vicki and the client, but she held on to her poker face pretty well.

  “We have the original document,” Vicki told the judge.

  “I’ll need to see that too,” the judge said.

  I crossed my legs and watched as Vicki confidently strode to the front of the room and delivered the document to the bailiff. She passed Markle on the way and shot him a withering glance.

  It was a subtle gesture, but made me have to hold back laughter. Vicki was a fairly even keeled, level headed woman, not prone to excessive emotion. But the last time I saw her make that face, the neighbor’s chicken ended up dead. I knew things didn’t bode well for Markle or Onyx. Someone was going down.

  “I’d also like to see the original agreement for the business sale,” the judge said.

  “I have that right here,” Markle said, and he handed the document to the judge.

  The judge looked it over, and then turned to Topaz. Despite the scene in the lobby, at least she knew enough to be stoic faced in the courtroom.

  “Is this the document you signed?” she asked.

  “Yes, your honor,” she said. “But like she said--”

  “I know what your lawyer said,” the judge insisted. “What I’m asking is, is this your signature?”

  “Yes,” Topaz squeaked out.

  “This document explicitly lines out the transfer of the vehicle title for the sale of the business,” the judge pointed out.

  I raised an eyebrow. I had been immersed in another case, and hadn’t followed the exact details of this one. I drew a deep breath and glanced at Vicki. I could only hope she had anticipated this one.

  “But why would my client have knowingly agreed to that?” Vicki protested.

  Weak argument. Come on Vicki. Please tell me you have something better than that.

  “The vehicle is valued at just less than four thousand dollars,” Vicki continued. “The business is valued at fifty thousand dollars. Why in her right mind would she agree to that unless the signature was obtained by deception?”

  Whoa. Did she have proof of this? I didn’t recall this coming up in the office. Was she bluffing?

  “Your honor,” Markle said. “The vehicle had a sentimental value for Ms. Whitestone that was far greater than the value of the business.”

  “And what was the nature of that value?” the judge asked.

  Markle looked a little sheepish, and glanced at Onyx who stared at the ground and shook his head.

  “Ms. Whitestone,” Markle said, “gave birth to her son in that vehicle.”

  Holy crap. Seriously? A collective grimace washed over the courtroom at the information and Topaz looked embarrassed again.

  I once had a client go into labor in a van that I was driving, and I thought that kid was going to come out any second. I thought that was scary. But, in a Volkswagen Beetle? Really?

  “Was Mr. Thomspon the father of the son?” the judge asked.

  “Yes,” Markle said.

  “And how old is this son now?” The judge asked.

  “Five,” Topaz stated.

  “So,” the judge stated. “You claim that she gave away the rights to a store to the vehicle in which the son was born?”

  “That is correct,” Markle said.

  “We’re prepared for cross examination now,” the judge motioned to Vicki. Vicki stepped out from behind the plaintiff’s table and smirked at Onyx. The room was quiet except for Vicki steps against the floor. I just watched her, cool, calm and collected in that navy blue suit.

  “Mr. Thompson,” she asked, “you’re an artisan, is that correct?”

  I smirked at Vick’s use of the word “artisan.” Only in Sedona would that word be so emotionally charged with meaning.

  “Yes,” he responded.

  “What do you make, exactly?” Vicki asked.

  I was familiar
with this technique. She had something up her sleeve.

  “I make artisan soaps and pottery and candles,” he said.

  There was that word again.

  “And what’s the name of your brand?” she asked.

  “I worked under the label Black Onyx,” he said.

  “Clever,” she said. “Turning your name into a brand. It lends itself well.”

  “I thought so,” he said.

  “What about your ex-wife?” she asked. “What brand does she craft under?”

  “It’s called Balanced Harmony,” he said.

  “And what is the significance of that brand name?” Vicki asked.

  “Well, she’s your client,” he snorted. “You should ask her.”

  “Well as we have so firmly established,” Vicki said, “it’s your business. I’m just asking what’s the significance of the brand name?”

  He sighed. “Topaz energy is the energy of balance and harmony.”

  “Hmm,” Vicki tapped her fingertips together. “What a great way to incorporate your names into your business.”

  “Many people do it,” he said.

  “Indeed,” Vicki said.

  Vicki crossed the room and grabbed a sheaf of papers from her padfolio. I tried to catch her eye but she was clearly on a roll.

  “Do you recognize this?” she showed it to Onyx.

  “Yeah,” Onyx said. “That’s our original business license.”

  “And what year did you open this shop?” Vicki asked.

  “1993,” he replied.

  “Right,” she said. “So this states that Boho Designs was opened on August 10, 1993 to…”

  She effected a dramatic confused expression. “Oh, wait, it says it was opened to Amelia Whitestone and Gordon Thompson.”

  “Well,” he said. “That’s us.”

  “Is it?” she asked. “Because I thought your names were Onyx and Topaz.”

  “We did a trip to India in 2002, and then we changed our names,” he said.

  “Oh,” Vicki nodded. “Did you file a name change with the court?”

  “Yes,” Onyx said. “I did a legal name change in 2005.”

  I raised an eyebrow. I knew where she was going with this now, and I didn’t expect this argument.

  “You did?” Vicki asked. “So you legally changed your name to Onyx Thompson?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Okay,” she smiled and crossed the back to our table. “What about you, Topaz, or should I say, Amelia. When did you change your name?”

  “Well,” Topaz groped around as if unsure of this line of questioning. “I did it the same time he did.”

  “So you have a name change on file with the court?” Vicki clarified.

  “Well,” Topaz sighed. “No.”

  “No?” Vicki feigned shock. “Why not?”

  “Well, when,” Topaz trailed off and looked embarrassed. “When Onyx did the name change, I...I…”

  “You what?” Vicki asked.

  “I had a lot of traffic tickets,” Topaz blurted out. “I was a struggling waitress and couldn’t really afford to take care of my car, and so I was always getting pulled over for maintenance violations, or expired registration or no insurance, or...so over time, these accumulated into a lot of charges that I couldn’t pay.”

  “So you drove illegally?” Vicki asked. “It’s fine. The statute of limitations has long since passed from 2005.’

  “Okay,” Topaz said. “Yes. I drove illegally, and then I got arrested on a traffic warrant and Onyx bailed me out, but I still had all of these charges from my arrest and I couldn’t pay any of it, then my license expired anyway and I couldn’t renew it. So the whole thing was all a huge mess, it took like six years to pay it all off. So, when Onyx went to the courthouse to change his name, I didn’t have a valid identification so I couldn’t do the name change with him.”

  Then the client as we knew her didn’t exist?

  “But you still went by the name Topaz,” Vicki said.

  “Yes,” Topaz said. “I changed it informally.”

  “Do you have valid identification now?” Vicki asked.

  “Yes,” Topaz blushed.

  “And you still haven’t gone back to change your name?” Vicki questioned.

  “No,” Topaz said. “It was just a hassle. I was already Topaz by common law.”

  “Right,” Vicki moved in for her final point that I had seen coming for a while. I smiled. She was good.

  “Well,” Vicki said. “Common law doesn’t apply to name changes. Otherwise every woman in America could put ‘Baby’ on her driver’s license.”

  She grabbed the contentious bill of sale from her padfolio and crossed the room to Onyx.

  “Can you read the signature on this form?” she asked.

  Onyx sighed. “It says ‘Topaz Whitestone.’”

  Markle palmed his face and sighed. Gotcha, bud.

  “Topaz Whitestone,” Vicki started.

  “Doesn’t exist,” Markle finished in defeat.

  Ohhh...and another one bites the dust.

  “Exactly,” Vicki said. “That’s all your honor.”

  The judge nodded and then looked over the document of sale that she had.

  “In light of this revelation,” the judge said. “The court rules this contract null and void. The business in question belongs to Amelia Whitestone and Onyx Thomspson. I would suggest that a proper bill of sale be drawn up, and this time...read it.”

  “Yes, your honor,” Topaz grinned and nodded.

  “Court adjourned,” Judge Preston banged the gavel.

  “Wow,” Topaz turned to the Vicki as we all filed out. “I can’t believe you did that. How did you know?”

  “I had a hunch last night,” Vicki said. “When I was talking to Henry’s parents, Saffron and Moondust. You guys aren’t the only ones in Sedona with fake names.”

  “Saffron Irving has a fake name?” Topaz’s eyes grew wide. “I know her.”

  “No,” I said. “Saffron’s real. Moondust isn’t. But his is legal. He doesn’t want anyone to know his birth name. It’s kind of a thing with him.”

  “Really?” Topaz looked at me quizzically. “Do you know his real name?”

  “I do,” I said. “But Vicki doesn’t.”

  “I don’t want to know,” she said. “It’s his secret and it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you got your store back.”

  “Yeah,” Topaz shook her head. “I gotta tell you, I was scared there for a minute.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Well,” she blushed. “I had my own reasons for wanting to get rid of Amelia Whitestone, and so back when I owed all of that money...well, I did something I shouldn’t have.”

  “What did you do?” Vicki asked.

  “I went to a guy that does fake ID’s,” she said. “And I had one made so that I could do business under Topaz.”

  “Wow,” I said. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t tell us that.”

  “Yeah,” Vicki said. “My legal advice--get real identification please, because all of your business dealings are similarly null and void.”

  “I will definitely do that now,” she said.

  We were back in the lobby now. I didn’t see Onyx or Markle anywhere.

  “Have a safe trip back to Sedona,” I shook hands with Topaz or Amelia or whatever her name was.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  Vicki talked to the client for a few more minutes, and then I heard my phone buzz, in Vicki’s purse.

  “You left it in the courtroom,” she said and she pulled it out.

  “Moondust,” she read the display as she handed it to me. “I can’t believe you still have your dad saved under his real name.”

  “It’s not his name,” I replied.

  “I guess not,” she laughed.

  “Hey, Dad,” I answered as I walked away from Vicki and the client still chatting. “What’s up?”

  “Henry,” his tone was light and airy. “
I’ve got some great news.”

  “Oh yeah?” I asked as I sat in a plastic chair in the hallway. “What’s going on?”

  “You know that show, Sedona Nightlife?” he asked.

  Ah yes. That show. This was our local version of SNL. But where the iconic NBC show majored on sketch comedy and minored on music, Sedona Nightlife, also presumptuously abbreviated SNL, our version majored on local music acts, and minored on sketch comedy.

  Most of the bands were decent, a lot of them were trendy hipster bands. But my dad spent his whole life in and out of bands, and had been on the show a handful of times as a fill in musician in some act or another.

  “Of course,” I said. “What about it?”

  “So,” he said. “We’re headlining it.”

  “Seriously?” I replied. “That’s excellent.”

  “And they want the new song,” he continued.

  “What new song?” I had been in Tahiti for the last month and I hadn’t gotten a chance to catch up with my family.

  “You haven’t heard about this?” he asked incredulously.

  “No,” I said. “I’ve been in Tahiti.”

  He whistled. “That’s right. I guess if I was on a Tahitian beach getting laid around the clock--”

  “Oh God, dad,” I snickered.

  “I’m just saying,” he replied, “if I would have known that’s what the life of a lawyer looked like, I might have lived a little differently.”

  “Trust me,” I smirked. “It’s not all sex and Tahitian beaches.”

  “Hmm,” he muttered. “Not based on what I see.”

  “Jesus, dad,” I replied. “I’m in a courthouse.”

  “Well,” he said. “It’s this new song I wrote about your mother. And it’s gone viral. We can’t say anything official, but there are rumors that it may have gotten in the hands of Columbia Records.”

  “Columbia, huh?” I smirked. “Of all the record companies in the world.”

  “Yeah,” his voice was soft. “Of all the record companies in the world.”

  In the 1970’s my dad had been in a band that had been offered a deal with Columbia Records. They were good, as good as anyone out there at the time, and could have been as big as the Rolling Stones or any of those other guys.

  But days before the deal was signed, however, the drummer got offered a job with Led Zeppelin and quit. The ensuing chaos didn’t impress the executives at Columbia, and the deal was rescinded.