Page 48 of Roman

CHAPTER 11

ROMAN

Aldo and I watched the video feeds, finding exactly what I anticipated seeing after Effie told me her story. I was surprised to see the culprit was Connor, one of our younger staff. He’d been with us for over two years and had always been steady and reliable. The one time he’d ever not shown up had been when his parents died in a car accident, leaving him and a younger sibling with only each other. He’d only missed a week of work and was very private about his grief and life. We’d sent flowers, and Aldo and I had gone to the memorial out of respect.

It didn’t take long to find his methods. He came in early before his shift on a Friday and Saturday, carrying his backpack as usual, but instead of stowing it away and returning to the bar, he slid a bottle of Crown Royal and Absolut Vodka onto the shelf. Just one bottle of each on his side of the bar. Not enough to get noticed. Inventory would have been done earlier in the day, so no one would be the wiser. Then he would put his backpack on his shoulder and leave, reappearing closer to his shift, waving at his manager and coworkers. Every shift, he’d pour drinks from those bottles, disposing of them quickly by hiding the empty bottles in his backpack. He only did it on weekends, when it was crazy busy, and he covered his tracks by ringing in one drink instead of two, pocketing his money quickly and evenly. A ten or twenty slipped into his pocket regularly. Each bottle gave him a tidy net profit.

And dipped into mine.

“Get him,” I commanded Aldo after checking that he was in the bar. “Bring him downstairs.”

Aldo nodded and left, and I paced, fuming. I treated my employees well. Paid them above a living wage. Provided benefits. Bonuses. And this was how he repaid me? Stealing?

I tucked my gun into my waistband and checked that I had a knife in my ankle holster. I hadn’t decided what to do with him, which shocked me. The last person who’d attempted to steal from me had lost all the fingers on their right hand and the ability to walk for months. The one person who succeeded didn’t get to spend a penny before my gun wiped the satisfied smirk off their face.

Why I couldn’t decide what to do with Connor was no doubt simply the how. It had nothing to do with the woman upstairs.

Yet somehow during the elevator ride down to the basement, I kept seeing Effie. Thinking of what she said. How she would react. She had fired the boy stealing from her, she’d told me. Made him help in a soup kitchen to work off the debt. She tracked him until he had “paid her back” in volunteer hours. He had apologized and told her he learned his lesson. He left town after that, and she hoped he’d change his life for the better. I thought her incredibly naïve and far too kind.

I was waiting when Aldo stepped into the room with Connor. How he got him there, I had no idea, but Connor suspected nothing until he saw me and viewed the enclosed room. He paled and stopped walking.

“You’ve been busy,” I stated, crossing my arms.

Connor tried to bluff, then became belligerent and, finally, teary and pleading. I let him dig his own grave, not speaking, listening, watching. Silence always unnerved the guilty. It worked with him, and he admitted to stealing money. He even told me how he did it.

Aldo totaled up the sum of what we estimated he had stolen and presented it to him. Connor swallowed, straightening his shoulders. “I can’t pay you back. I don’t have it.”

“Where is it?” I asked, my voice cold. Unfeeling.

His bravado disappeared. “I used it to pay my sister’s tuition and living expenses. She’s going to be a doctor. When my parents died last year, they had no insurance. It took everything they left to bury them and pay off their debts. It’s my responsibility to help her. I was desperate—she’d worked so hard to get into medical school. I only did it until I had the money. Check the past couple of weeks. I haven’t taken a dime!”

Internally, I cursed at his words. His excuse and his request. He hadn’t brought a bottle into the bar the past while. But that didn’t justify his theft.

“So, your excuse is it was a limited time? What about when she needs it next year? The year after?” Aldo snapped.

Connor shook his head. “I got another job—days. I’m saving all that money for her.” He turned to me, pleading. “I didn’t want to, Mr. Costas. I didn’t think you’d miss it.” His eyes were terrified. He swallowed. “Please make it fast. Make it look like an accident so my sister gets my insurance.” He hung his head.

“You should have come to me. Asked me,” I snapped.

“I didn’t think you would care.”

“So instead, you stole?”

He nodded, not meeting my gaze.

I met Aldo’s eyes. He nodded at the tablet he was holding. He’d asked for all the information on Connor’s sister’s education and the supposed debt, verifying it. I had no idea about either issue, but then again, I never got involved in my employees’ personal lives. Aldo lifted a shoulder in deference. He knew the decision on punishment was mine.

I wavered again. My pause surprised both of us. I couldn’t let this go—we all knew it. Connor had stolen from me. He needed to pay for what he had done. It was simple in my world. You did the crime, you paid the consequences.

But he was a kid. Desperate to help his sister. That did count for something. Because it was family.

That was the word that won out.

“I’m not going to kill you,” I informed him. “I don’t murder people for being stupid.”

“What do you do, then?” he asked.

“You will pay your debt plus interest. You’ll no longer keep your tips. You will be monitored closely. You quit your other job, and you’ll work here exclusively—under watch. If I think, even suspect, you are skimming, stealing, taking advantage, there will be no other chances. You will forfeit something you cannot get back.”