The Saint Has Lost His Receipt

How it begins

The saint had been paid for in installments.

Louise Bell read the receipt beneath the museum lamp and felt an unprofessional desire to laugh. Three payments, two overdue notices and a final discount for collection by the purchaser.

The statue upstairs was described as a gift from the city's founder. Schoolchildren had been told this every Thursday for twenty years. Louise had typed the label herself.

She checked the paper again. The date was recent enough to be embarrassing and old enough to require care.

Anton Gray waited on the other side of the desk with his hat between his hands. White plaster dust marked his cuffs.

'Where did you find it?' she asked.

'In my father's order book.'

'Your father made saints?'

'He made whatever people ordered.'

Louise looked toward the gallery. From her office she could see one pale hand raised in permanent blessing. The saint had survived fires, political changes and a roof replacement funded by public subscription. He appeared untroubled by the possibility of being a comparatively modern purchase.

'There may be another statue,' she said.

Anton opened a small parcel. Inside lay a plaster thumb with a tiny notch at the nail.

'I hoped you would say that.'

The gallery thumb had the same notch. Louise could see it without standing.

She fetched the accession ledger. The entry recorded a donation, a ceremony and three distinguished witnesses. None was the person named on the receipt.

Anton watched her turn the pages.

'I'm not asking you to call it a forgery.'

'What are you asking?'

'To say who made it.'

Outside, the museum bell announced closing time. Louise shut the ledger, but left the receipt beneath the lamp. By morning, the saint would still be beautiful. The city might find that insufficient consolation.

On the desk, the little plaster thumb cast a sharp shadow toward her own typewriter.