Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
Carter slid the key back into the magnetic box and clicked it against the metal frame of the wheel well. He walked toward the back door of the diner, his boots crunching softly on the loose gravel. The kitchen exhaust fan hummed its high-pitched tune, sending the smell of toasted rye into the alley.
The heavy steel back door was propped open with a clean wooden wedge to let the kitchen cool down. Carter stepped into the narrow hallway that led to the dry storage room. The hallway was quiet, the kitchen staff busy with the early prep for the dinner rush.
Just past the mop sink, a narrow wooden walkway ran behind the counter partition. Carter knew this part of the building well. It was built in the fifties, and the pine floorboards beneath the green linoleum had grown soft over sixty years of heavy service.
He looked down near the base of the counter wall. A single floorboard, loose near the seam where the register cables ran down into the basement, sat slightly higher than the rest.
Carter knelt, his knees popping in the quiet hallway. He slid his fingers under the lip of the wood.
