Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
He adjusted his faded blue construction cap, pulling the brim down to shade his face, his fingers tracing the edge of his gold wedding band.
“I don’t understand how this could happen, Jim,” Henry said, his formal voice quiet and tight.
“I only work the dish station and sweep the vestibule floor.”
“The computer record has your employee number, zero-four, on three separate voids from yesterday morning,” Jim said.
“Each one of those voids cleared out a five dollar and fifty cent transaction for a special breakfast plate.”
“That is sixteen dollars and fifty cents from just one shift, Henry.”
“I do not know the code to open the register drawer,” Henry said.
“I have never been shown how to use the touch screen.”
Jim tapped a wooden pencil against the edge of the desk, the sound sharp and rhythmic in the small room.
“That is the part I am trying to figure out,” Jim said.
“Every voided transaction under your number required a supervisor override to complete the process.”
“Troy’s personal code was entered to approve all three of them.”
Carter leaned closer to the doorframe, his boots silent on the red tile floor.
