Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
Henry did not reply, folding his apron into a small, neat square and placing it on the clean laminate of the counter.
Megan reached over and took the apron, dropping it into the canvas laundry hamper under the register.
“Have a nice afternoon, Henry,” Megan said, her voice bright and empty.
Henry walked past them, his head down, his boots dragging slightly as he headed for the back exit.
Carter waited until the screen door clicked shut before he stood up from his stool.
“He always seemed a little slow,” Megan said to Troy, her hand moving to her apron pocket.
“I bet he has been pocketing those twenties for months.”
“Some people just don’t know how to handle their own money,” Troy said, sliding the quarter back into his pocket.
Carter walked out the back door, the autumn air cool against his face as he stepped onto the gravel.
The parking lot was mostly empty, save for his own truck and Henry’s old Buick sedan parked near the dumpster.
Henry was standing by the driver-side door, his hand resting on the rusty handle of his car.
