Chapter 3 - Bring Them Back
For several seconds, Table Eleven might as well have been the only table in Bellamy’s.
Dominic held the flash drive between two fingers.
Emily stared at it.
Mr. Bennett stared harder.
Sophie kept eating pasta.
I stood beside the table with a bread basket in my hands, wondering whether I should disappear.
Nobody moved.
Finally Dominic asked, “Proof of what?”
Emily did not answer him.
She looked at Arthur Bennett.
My boss.
The man who approved my schedule, signed my checks, and reminded staff weekly that Bellamy’s reputation depended on discretion.
Mr. Bennett gave her a mild smile.
“I think you’ve mistaken us for someone else.”
Emily’s laugh was quiet and bitter.
“No. I spent six months making sure I hadn’t.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
Mr. Bennett turned toward me.
“Claire.”
“Yes?”
“Go to the front.”
Dominic said, “She stays.”
Mr. Bennett’s jaw flexed.
“This is a private business matter.”
“Then stop discussing it in front of your dining room.”
A nearby couple suddenly became fascinated by their tiramisu.
Mr. Bennett leaned closer.
“Dominic.”
It was the first time I had heard anyone at Bellamy’s use his first name without invitation.
“This woman is clearly distressed.”
Emily looked at him.
“I’m homeless, Arthur. Not confused.”
The use of his first name landed like broken glass.
Mr. Bennett stared at her.
Dominic set the flash drive on the table.
“You know each other.”
Emily nodded.
“I worked for Bellamy Hospitality.”
My stomach tightened.
Not the restaurant itself.
The parent company.
Bellamy Hospitality owned three restaurants, a catering company, two event spaces, and a food distribution warehouse.
“At corporate?” I asked.
Emily looked at me.
“Payroll.”
Mr. Bennett spoke immediately.
“Temporarily.”
“Eleven months.”
“You were terminated.”
“I quit.”
“You were dismissed after accessing files outside your authorization.”
Emily’s face went pale, but she held his gaze.
“I accessed files after I found paychecks issued to employees who didn’t exist.”
Dominic became very still.
Mr. Bennett sighed.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The accusation.”
He looked at Dominic as though explaining a nuisance.
“She became obsessed with accounting inconsistencies. We investigated. There was nothing.”
Emily opened her bag and pulled out several folded papers.
“Then why did somebody break into my apartment two nights after I copied them?”
Sophie stopped eating.
Emily immediately regretted saying it.
“Mom?”
Emily touched her hand.
“Everything’s okay.”
“Somebody broke in?”
“It was nothing, baby.”
Dominic looked at Sophie.
Then at Emily.
“Take her away from this table.”
Emily stiffened.
“I’m not sending her anywhere.”
“To another table. With Claire.”
I nearly dropped the bread basket.
Emily looked at me.
I understood what Dominic was doing.
Whatever came next, Sophie should not hear it.
“I could show her the dessert case,” I offered.
Sophie looked at her mother.
Emily hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Stay where I can see you.”
“I will.”
I held out my hand.
Sophie did not take it.
I could not blame her.
Instead, she slid down from her chair and walked beside me toward the pastry counter.
“You lied to us,” she said once we were several yards away.
Children have no respect for convenient avoidance.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I looked back at her mother.
“I thought you couldn’t afford to eat here.”
“We couldn’t.”
“I know.”
Sophie frowned.
“That doesn’t explain why you lied.”
She was eight years old and had already identified the weakness in every excuse I had.
“No,” I said. “It doesn’t.”
She looked through the glass dessert case.
“What’s that?”
“Tiramisu.”
“What does it taste like?”
“Coffee and chocolate.”
“Mom doesn’t let me drink coffee.”
“It’s probably still forbidden.”
That earned me half a smile.
At Table Eleven, Dominic was speaking quietly with Emily and Bennett.
I could not hear everything.
But I caught pieces.
“Ghost employees.”
“Vendor accounts.”
“Pension transfers.”
“Warehouse invoices.”
Then Dominic said something that made Mr. Bennett’s face change.
“Nathan found the same pattern.”
Emily stared at him.
“What?”
Dominic glanced toward Sophie before lowering his voice.
I edged closer under the excuse of rearranging dessert plates.
“Nathan,” Dominic repeated. “Seven years ago.”
Emily shook her head.
“No. Nathan died in a traffic accident.”
“Yes.”
“You told me he worked in logistics.”
“He did.”
“What pattern?”
Dominic seemed to choose every word.
“He found irregularities tied to a distributor we both used.”
Mr. Bennett said sharply, “That was investigated.”
Dominic ignored him.
Emily whispered, “Why didn’t Nathan tell me?”
“He was going to.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he called me the night before he died.”
Emily stopped breathing.
Even from across the room, I could see it.
“What did he say?”
Dominic looked down.
“He said he had found something bigger than missing money.”
Mr. Bennett stepped back.
“This is absurd.”
Dominic looked at him.
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“You remember that call?”
“No.”
“I didn’t ask if you remembered it.”
Mr. Bennett’s face hardened.
There are moments when people accidentally show you the person underneath.
That was one.
The charming restaurant owner disappeared.
For less than a second, I saw calculation.
Then the smile returned.
“I think this conversation has gone far enough.”
Emily reached for the flash drive.
“I agree.”
Dominic covered it with his hand.
“No.”
She stared at him.
“That belongs to me.”
“Do you have another copy?”
Emily hesitated.
That was answer enough.
Dominic slid the drive toward himself.
“You walked into a restaurant owned by the man you think is stealing from employees carrying the only copy of your evidence.”
“I didn’t walk in because of him.”
“Then why did you come here?”
Her eyes moved toward the rain-streaked windows.
“My daughter was hungry.”
Nobody spoke.
Even Dominic seemed struck by the terrible simplicity.
She had not come to confront anyone.
She had not come looking for justice.
She had seen food through a window.
That was all.
Mr. Bennett folded his arms.
“Then we’re finished.”
Dominic shook his head.
“No.”
Bennett looked at him.
“No?”
“We’re just starting.”
His gaze dropped to the flash drive.
Then he turned toward me.
“Claire.”
“Yes?”
“Is there an office here with a computer that isn’t connected to the restaurant network?”
Mr. Bennett said, “Absolutely not.”
I answered anyway.
“The private banquet office upstairs.”
Mr. Bennett’s face went white.
Dominic stood.
“Good.”
Emily stood too.
“What are you doing?”
“Finding out what you risked your life to carry in from the rain.”
Mr. Bennett stepped into his path.
“You do not have permission to access my offices.”
Dominic looked at him.
“Call the police.”
Silence.
Bennett did not move.
Dominic waited.
“Go ahead.”
Still nothing.
That was when I knew.
Whatever was on that flash drive, my boss was more afraid of legitimate police than he was of Dominic Moretti.
And as Dominic started toward the staircase, I noticed something through the front windows.
A black sedan had parked across the street.
Its headlights were off.
The engine was running.
May you like
A man inside was staring directly at Emily Bennett.
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