Seven Empty Deposit Envelopes Showed What Was Happening At Carters Diner
He adjusted his gold wedding band, turning the metal twice around his knuckle.
Troy sat up straight, his mocking smile vanishing as his shoulders went stiff under his denim jacket.
“We thought you were just some guy from the county road crew,” Troy said.
“I know what you thought,” Carter said. “You told me the toast was five dollars and fifty cents.”
Megan looked at Troy, her dark ponytail shifting over her shoulder, but Troy was staring at the brown leather briefcase on the desk.
The corporate auditor, Mr. Henderson, did not look up from his papers as he cleared his throat.
“We will begin with the cash reconciliation reports for the transition period of October and November,” Henderson said.
He pulled a stack of yellow spreadsheets from his briefcase and laid them flat on the desk.
“According to the digital log,” Henderson said, “there is a cash deficit that does not align with the food inventory records.”
Troy shifted in his chair, his hand going to his collar.
“Henry has been running the register on the early shift,” Troy said, speaking fast. “We told Linda yesterday. He gets confused with the morning rush.”
