Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
Troy had built the perfect trap, using his supervisor authority to approve the fraudulent voids while shifting the blame entirely onto the oldest worker in the building.
“I have to suspend you, Henry,” Jim said, setting the pencil down.
“Until the auditor looks at the system, I cannot have you near the kitchen or the floor.”
“I have worked honest my whole life, and now this,” Henry said, his voice barely audible over the hum of the kitchen fan.
“I don’t have another way to pay my bills, Jim.”
“I am sorry,” Jim said.
“You need to leave your apron on the counter and go home.”
Henry did not argue, his head bowing slightly as he turned toward the door.
Carter stepped back into the shadows of the dry storage rack, watching Henry walk slowly out into the hallway.
Henry rubbed his lower back with his right hand, his fingers pressing into the fabric of his trousers as if the weight of the news had settled in his joints.
By the time Carter returned to his end stool at the counter, Henry was standing near the register.
