Chapter 3: What Four Years of Lies Looked Like
Gerald came back with a thin manila folder and set it on the table without a word.
Mason didn't open it yet.
He was watching Brandon, who had moved to the far side of the room and was now standing with his back almost to the wall, arms still crossed, chin up.
"You want to tell me how my email account sent a termination notice to an employee I'd never heard of?" Mason asked.
"IT handles shared access during system migrations," Brandon said.
"That's a question for your tech department, not me."
"I don't have a tech department that sends dismissal letters on my behalf."
"Then someone made an error."
"Fourteen months of substituted product isn't an error, Brandon."
Brandon's jaw tightened.
"I want to call my attorney."
"You're not under arrest.
You can leave whenever you want." Mason pulled out a chair and sat down.
"But if you walk out that door before I understand what happened to Joanne Parker, I'll make sure every call I make today includes your name and a very specific set of questions."
Brandon didn't move toward the door.
Mason opened the folder.
Joanne Parker.
Hired four years and three months ago as a line cook.
Promoted to senior kitchen staff after eleven months.
Performance reviews: excellent, excellent, excellent.
Then a final entry, dated eight months ago.
One line.
*Terminated for theft of hotel property.*
No incident report.
No HR signature.
No investigation record.
"Where's the documentation for this?" Mason asked, holding up the page.
Gerald cleared his throat.
"Chef Cole handles kitchen personnel matters."
"I'm asking you."
Gerald's hands went into his pockets.
"I signed off on the final paperwork.
Chef Cole brought it to me and said the matter had already been reviewed."
"Reviewed by whom?"
Silence.
Lily had been watching from her seat.
She hadn't touched the food in front of her for the last twenty minutes.
Now she spoke.
"My mom asked the same question.
They told her the owner had reviewed it personally."
Mason set the folder down flat on the table.
"She thought I knew," he said.
Not a question.
A fact settling into place.
"She cried for three days," Lily said.
"She kept saying she didn't understand how you could read her letter and not care.
She said she'd worked for good people before and she thought you were one of them."
The room was very quiet.
Mason's phone buzzed.
His head of finance, a woman named Carol, had sent the first batch of invoices.
He opened the email and scrolled.
The pattern was immediate.
Every week, for four years, the restaurant had invoiced premium suppliers at premium prices.
Artisan dairy.
Imported olive oil.
Dry-aged beef.
Hand-harvested herbs.
The numbers were precise and consistent, the kind of consistency that came from someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
He pulled up the actual delivery records Carol had attached separately.
The brands didn't match.
Not once in four years.
He looked up at Brandon.
"How much?" Mason asked.
"I don't know what you're referring to."
"The difference between what you invoiced and what you actually bought.
How much did you take?"
Brandon's arms came uncrossed.
His hands went to his sides.
"I want my attorney present before this conversation continues."
"That's the first honest thing you've said today." Mason stood.
"Gerald, I need you to stay in this building.
Don't go to your office.
Don't make any calls.
Sit in the lobby and wait."
Gerald nodded, his face the color of old paper.
Mason looked at Lily.
"Does your grandmother know where you are?"
"She thinks I'm at school."
"I need to make some calls.
After that, I'd like to take you to see your mother.
Would that be all right?"
Lily looked at him for a long moment, the way a child looks at an adult when they're deciding whether to trust them.
"Okay," she said quietly.
Mason stepped into the corridor and dialed Carol again.
"How bad is it?" he asked when she picked up.
May you like
There was a pause on the other end that told him everything before she spoke.
"Mason," she said, "I think you need to call a lawyer."
