Chapter 3 - The Waitress Nobody Noticed
Police took statements.
Nobody was arrested that night.
That made Donovan smile again.
“See you around, Nell.”
Lorenzo saw him say it.
His expression changed.
Donovan left.
Carla was suspended immediately.
At 1:16 a.m., the Cobalt was almost empty.
I untied my apron.
Benny approached.
“The five thousand.”
The cash still sat behind the bar.
“Keep it.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Donovan left it.”
“I don’t want his money.”
“You need it.”
“That doesn’t make it mine.”
A hand appeared beside me.
Lorenzo.
He placed a cocktail napkin on the bar.
TAKE THE MONEY.
I shook my head.
“It was a cruel bet.”
He wrote:
THEN WIN IT.
I almost laughed.
“I already did.”
His eyes softened.
Then Evelyn rushed toward us.
“We found something.”
She opened her laptop.
“Those stolen caption files were transmitted to an encrypted account, but whoever did it was sloppy.”
“How sloppy?” Benny asked.
“Restaurant Wi-Fi logged the devices.”
She showed us.
Fourteen sessions.
Same tablet.
The device belonged to the Cobalt.
“Carla?” I asked.
“Manager tablet.”
That seemed obvious.
Too obvious.
I remembered Carla carrying it constantly.
Except—
“No.”
Evelyn looked at me.
“What?”
“Carla’s tablet broke.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
Benny nodded.
“She dropped it near the ice machine.”
I pointed toward the office.
“She’s been using the new one.”
Evelyn checked the device serial number.
“This is the old tablet.”
Benny frowned.
“We threw it away.”
“No,” I said.
I remembered.
“Donovan took it.”
Everyone looked at me.
“He was standing near the office when Carla dropped it. She said it was useless. Donovan joked that his tech guy could salvage anything.”
Evelyn immediately called Marcus.
Lorenzo watched me.
He signed.
Martin had already left, so Evelyn interpreted.
“He asks why you remember that.”
“Because waitresses remember everything.”
Lorenzo raised an eyebrow.
I continued.
“We know who hates onions. Who lies about allergies. Who is having an affair. Who pays cash. Who never tips unless his wife is watching.”
Evelyn smiled.
Lorenzo signed.
“What?”
“He says that sounds more useful than half his security department.”
My phone buzzed.
Landlord.
I ignored it.
Lorenzo noticed.
He wrote:
PROBLEM?
“No.”
He waited.
I sighed.
“Rent.”
He wrote:
HOW MUCH?
“Absolutely not.”
His eyebrow rose.
“You’re not paying my rent.”
He wrote:
I DID NOT OFFER.
“Oh.”
Then beneath it:
BUT NOW I KNOW WHY YOU WALKED INTO THAT ROOM.
I looked away.
“Five thousand dollars is a lot when you’re five days from losing your apartment.”
His smile disappeared.
He wrote slowly.
THEY KNEW.
I looked at him.
“What?”
THEY CHOSE YOU BECAUSE THEY KNEW YOU NEEDED MONEY.
That hit harder than I expected.
I nodded.
“Yes.”
Lorenzo looked toward the door Donovan had used.
Then he wrote:
THAT MAKES YOU PART OF THE EVIDENCE.
My stomach tightened.
“Wonderful.”
He almost smiled again.
Evelyn returned.
“We found the old tablet.”
“Where?”
“Donovan’s driver handed it to police.”
Benny laughed.
“His own driver?”
“Apparently Donovan hasn’t paid him in six weeks.”
For the first time all night, I laughed.
Then Evelyn’s phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Her smile disappeared.
“What?”
She turned toward Lorenzo.
“The tablet was wiped twenty minutes ago.”
Lorenzo signed.
“Remote?”
“Yes.”
“Can they recover anything?” I asked.
“Maybe.”
Then I remembered something else.
“The backup.”
Evelyn looked at me.
“What backup?”
“Carla hated losing reservation data. After the tablet broke, she made the system upload everything automatically.”
“To where?”
“The restaurant’s cloud account.”
Evelyn stared.
Benny stared.
Lorenzo stared.
I shrugged.
“I reset the Wi-Fi router every Tuesday.”
Evelyn opened her laptop.
Ten minutes later, she found the archive.
Not just caption files.
Screenshots.
Invoices.
Messages.
And one spreadsheet.
She opened it.
Nobody spoke.
There were names.
Payments.
Contract numbers.
James Maritime bids.
And beside each one—
a percentage.
Lorenzo read the screen.
His face went completely still.
Evelyn whispered:
“They’ve been selling your bids.”
“How much?” I asked.
She scrolled.
“Based on this?”
She looked at Lorenzo.
“More than eight million dollars.”
And the spreadsheet contained one name none of us expected.
May you like
Someone inside Lorenzo’s own company.
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