Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
The printed totals at the bottom had been torn away, but the individual category lines were still readable. The physical sheets showed five hundred twelve dollars in cash receipts for Wednesday.
The digital report Linda had shown him recorded only three hundred eighty dollars for that same day. The difference was gone, wiped clean by the voided transactions under Henry’s name.
Carter sat in the cab of his truck, the high-pitched hum of the old milk dispenser from inside the diner still echoing in his ears. The scale of the theft was growing larger with every piece of paper he aligned.
This was not a hundred dollars. It was thousands.
He folded the shredded strips carefully and placed them in his glove box next to his registration. The physical slips were the only proof that the food had actually been prepared and served.
He walked back to the front entrance of the diner, smelling the faint scent of toasted rye as the heavy glass door swung shut behind him. He took his regular seat at the end of the counter, pulling his construction cap down.
