“There’s something else.”
“My father kept a notebook of people who owed him favors.”
“He wrote one name beside the warehouse sale.”
She went upstairs and returned with a spiral notebook stained by flour and coffee.
Beside the date of the supposed vote, her father had written a single line.
Warren said the forms are routine, but Elliot won’t sign.
Pearl traced the pencil mark with one finger.
“Dad thought Elliot was being stubborn.”
“Then why keep the note?”
“Because Dad changed his mind later.”
A second entry recorded that Warren had paid for a new oven at the bakery after the sale.
There was no receipt.
Pearl refused to guess whether the payment had been a bribe or a legitimate gift.
“That kind of guessing got our families in trouble,” she said.
Mason bought two rolls with the money left in his pocket.
Pearl added a third without charging him.
“Tell your mother I still remember your father’s kindness,” she said.
“He wasn’t only the man who got accused of stealing.”
Chapter 9: Victor Changes His Story
Victor Shaw sent Mason a text offering half of his unpaid wages if he signed a statement that he had abandoned his shift voluntarily.
Mason read the message in disbelief.
The manager had fired him in front of twenty witnesses.
When Mason declined, Victor warned that no upscale restaurant in Cleveland would hire him once his record became known.
Mason saved the messages and forwarded them to a legal clinic.
He wanted his money, but he wanted an accurate account of the dismissal even more.
Two days later, Victor asked to meet at a coffee shop away from The Mariner.
Mason brought his cousin Tessa, who worked in human resources for a furniture distributor.
Victor took one look at her notebook and complained that the meeting felt hostile.
“You asked for the meeting,” Tessa said.
“You can leave whenever you wish.”
Victor rubbed his hands together.
“The owner has asked questions about the old man.”
“What questions?” Mason asked.
“Whether he was threatening guests, whether he used false identification, whether he demanded free food.”
“None of that happened.”
“I know.”
The admission sounded almost painful.
Victor lowered his voice.
“Someone told me to keep that man away from the private dining room.”
“Who?”
Victor hesitated long enough that Tessa closed her notebook.
“I’m not promising confidentiality,” she said.
“Then I can’t tell you.”
Mason stood.
Victor caught his sleeve, then released it immediately.
“The name was on a printed instruction sheet,” he said.
