Chapter 5 - The Price of an Open Gate

Celeste didn't send the document to me because she wanted me to become a detective. She sent it because I was the employee who had been punished for something that happened on the other side of that gate, and she believed I deserved to know why she was turning her own restaurant upside down.

The next morning, Detective Ortiz asked me to come in again. David Kesler had agreed to answer questions with an attorney present. The police had also obtained the original electronic access log from the building operator, not merely the copy Celeste had seen.

"He admits he provided his credential to an Ashline contractor," Ortiz told me. "He says he was paid to make deliveries easier. He denies knowing anyone intended to attack Roman."

"Do you believe him?"

"I believe the parts we can verify. The rest is what we're investigating."

She showed me a short sequence from a second camera farther along the service passage. A man in a dark hood passed toward the bakery at 4:09. At 4:13 the same figure moved back toward the gate, one hand held close to his jacket. The camera never captured his face clearly.

I tried to imagine the distance between him and me. At 4:12 I'd been rushing toward Laura, worried about being late. Then I'd heard the first gasp. I could have been separated from the attacker by only a corner of brickwork and a few seconds.

My stomach tightened.

"He was still there when I came close?"

"Possibly. We haven't established exactly when you entered the alley. Don't turn an estimate into a memory, Megan."

I nodded. I was beginning to understand why Ortiz insisted on being so precise. The story had become crowded with people who stood to gain by making something uncertain sound definite.

Celeste was conducting her own review with an independent payroll specialist. David's consulting payments were separate from the restaurant's accounts, but his handling of tips was not. She discovered that service charges from at least four private events had been recorded as administrative adjustments instead of paid to staff.

I remembered working two of those dinners. My feet had hurt so badly afterward that I'd sat on the edge of my bed before I could take off my shoes. I had assumed the small amount on my paycheck meant guests had left less than usual.

Now I wasn't sure how much I'd earned.

"We'll calculate what everyone is owed," Celeste promised. "With interest where appropriate. I should have checked earlier."

I hadn't expected the proprietor of a restaurant like Laura to say those last words. I didn't immediately forgive the oversight. But I listened.

That afternoon I attended a meeting at the property office with Roman, Elias, Iris Delaney, and Detective Ortiz. Iris was a small, serious woman with tired eyes and a folder so full that papers bent around its edges. She had not disappeared or been abducted. After receiving a warning that her meeting location had been compromised, she'd stayed with family and contacted the police.

"I was supposed to meet Roman behind the bakery," she told Ortiz. "Someone called and said there would be trouble if I came. The number was blocked. I didn't know how to warn him quickly enough, and I was afraid whoever called had people at his office."

Roman looked at her. "I received your message too late."

Iris placed two inspection reports side by side. One carried her original observations. The other had been used to justify a notice ordering tenants out of a Canal Quarter property.

The differences were not subtle. In the original, a heating system needed repair within thirty days. In the version sent for approval, the building was labeled an immediate life-safety risk requiring occupants to leave. An ordinary maintenance estimate had been replaced with a much larger emergency contract.

"Who changed it?" Ortiz asked.

"I can show that the changes were made after I submitted my report," Iris said. "I can't identify the person from the document alone. The editing history and approval trail are in the company system."

Roman's jaw tightened. "And I authorized the notice based on that edited report."

I waited for him to explain that he had been deceived. He did, but not in the way I expected.

"I should have insisted on the source documents," he said. "My signature did harm even if I wasn't the one who changed the numbers."

I thought about the way he'd stepped into Laura's kitchen and made David tremble with a single question. This was a different kind of power: the ability to admit responsibility in a room where nobody could make him do it.

Iris had traced payments from the emergency contracts to Ashline Safety. The amounts were suspiciously high, and some work listed on invoices had never been performed. Graham Voss, Roman's operations director, had approved the vendor and controlled the chain of authorizations that sent the summaries to Roman.

The facts pointed toward misconduct. They didn't yet prove who had ordered a stabbing.

Iris moved another paper forward. It showed a payment from Ashline to David's consulting account, labeled as a recurring access service. The first transfer matched the authorization dated six weeks earlier. Further payments followed.

"Why would a restaurant manager receive those?" I asked.

"Because he could open a gate without anyone questioning him," Iris said. "The same gate used by suppliers, cleaners, and employees."

David hadn't needed to know about a killing to make one possible. He had only needed to treat a locked passage as something he could sell.

After the meeting Roman walked with me to the elevator. He was moving more carefully now, his injury finally forcing him to slow down.

"You don't need to keep coming here," he said. "You've given the police the account they asked for."

"If I stop coming, does anyone tell the people who lost their homes what happened?"

"They should. I'll make sure independent counsel contacts them."

"Don't make me a promise because you're grateful I helped you. Make it because the reports were wrong."

He held my gaze. "You're right."

That answer unsettled me more than an argument might have.

When I returned home, Leo was drawing at the kitchen table. The medicine had begun to work, and he wanted to know whether I would be going back to Laura.

"I don't know yet," I told him.

He frowned over a blue crayon. "Will we be okay?"

I kissed the top of his head and said I was working on it. I wouldn't promise him more than I could honestly deliver.

That evening Ortiz called. The police had identified the dark delivery van captured near the service passage. It was registered to a subcontractor used by Ashline Safety. They were locating the driver and seeking records of who had requested the vehicle that day.

Then she told me something I hadn't expected.

May you like

[COMPLETED] “GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY DRESS! YOU’RE NOTHING BUT AN OLD SEAM...

[COMPLETED] At the Mafia Boss's Engagement Party, I Served His Hungry So...

[COMPLETED] The Mafia Boss’s Fiancée Tried to Dismiss His Father’s Loyal...

The subcontractor's route sheet listed the bakery passage as a scheduled stop. The stop had been entered the evening before Roman's appointment with Iris.

Someone had planned to use that gate before Roman ever set foot in the alley.