Chapter 5 - THE PRICE OF LOOKING AWAY
“Yes,” I told Rachel.
The word nearly broke me.
She took a step backward.
“You knew?”
“No. Not about Daniel's death. Not about the accusation against him specifically.”
“Then why did you say yes?”
I placed the disciplinary report on the desk.
“Because I signed it.”
Rachel stared at me.
“I was given a summary of employee investigations that month. Warren's office prepared it. I approved the packet without reading every case.”
Her face hardened.
“So my husband's name was just another page?”
I couldn't defend myself.
“Apparently.”
She laughed once.
It was a terrible sound.
“Daniel used to say people like you lived in a different world.”
“He was right.”
“He believed that if he could reach you, you'd do the right thing.”
I looked down.
“And I never gave him the chance.”
Rachel picked up Daniel's watch case.
“After he died, our rent was overdue. His final wages never came. When I asked for his employee benefits, they told me his case was under investigation.”
Her voice trembled.
“I didn't know they were accusing him of theft.”
I closed my eyes.
There had been a time when I knew the names of every person working in my first casino.
I knew which bartenders had children.
Which dealers needed extra shifts.
Which kitchen employees sent money home to their parents.
Then the business grew.
I stopped remembering faces.
Eventually, I stopped asking questions.
And men like Warren Pike filled the silence.
“Rachel,” I said, “I can't undo what happened. But I can reopen the investigation, release the records, and make certain your family receives everything it was wrongfully denied.”
She shook her head.
“I don't want you buying my forgiveness.”
“I'm not asking for it.”
“Good.”
She held my gaze.
“Because you haven't earned it.”
That afternoon, Detective Vega received the engagement-party catering records.
Adrian Vale joined us to examine them.
He recognized the order numbers immediately.
“Private Dessert Service, Table Twelve,” he read. “That's unusual.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Most special desserts are coded under the guest's name. This one was transferred to employee takeaway service.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“Daniel brought home a cake that night.”
Adrian nodded.
“That fits the record.”
“Who authorized the transfer?” Vega asked.
Adrian turned another page.
The answer was printed in small letters.
O. MERCER — EVENT DIRECTOR.
Olivia.
The room fell silent.
Adrian looked troubled.
“I remember something else. Mrs. Mercer requested a small black-and-gold dessert box after Mr. Moretti left the engagement party.”
Rachel covered her mouth.
“Daniel brought home a black box.”
“Was he supposed to take it?” I asked.
“The order says it was a courtesy dessert for a departing employee.”
Rachel shook her head.
“That makes no sense.”
“Why?”
“Daniel didn't leave early. He finished his entire shift. He brought the cake home near midnight.”
Detective Vega studied the record.
“Then someone arranged for him to receive that particular dessert.”
Ruth entered with another folder.
“Gabriel, we've located the supplier who handled the original catering invoices.”
“Who?”
“A company called Silver Crest Hospitality.”
I recognized the name.
They had handled dozens of our private events.
Ruth continued.
“Silver Crest received unusually large payments for services that don't appear in the actual event records.”
“How large?”
“More than four million dollars over eighteen months.”
I looked at the paperwork.
Several events listed hundreds of temporary employees.
Some dates showed three banquets occurring simultaneously in rooms that hadn't even been booked.
Daniel had noticed the discrepancies.
That explained why he had tried to reach my office.
But it didn't yet explain why he had died.
Detective Vega pointed to one last entry.
A separate charge had been billed after my engagement party.
Not for flowers.
Not for food.
Not for transportation.
A private dessert delivery.
The recipient was listed as Daniel Bennett.
The authorization carried Olivia's initials.
And the payment had been made from an executive hospitality account under my name.
Rachel looked at me.
“You paid for the cake my husband ate?”
“Not knowingly.”
She studied the paper.
“Then who was using your money?”
I looked toward the signature line.
Warren Pike had approved the expense.
But the notation beneath it made my blood run cold.
SPECIAL HANDLING — DO NOT INCLUDE IN STANDARD FOOD SAFETY REVIEW.
May you like
Daniel Bennett hadn't simply died after attending my engagement party.
Someone had made certain that the food he brought home would receive no ordinary scrutiny.
