the now empty room and gazed about it in satisfaction. It was her taste and it was beautiful! She had finally succeeded!
Before retreating to the office where she did most of her work, she stepped back down into the dim lounge, decorated differently from the dining room. Dark green flagstones covered the floor. Tiny tables, meant for an appetizer and two or three drinks, populated the lounge. At the periphery of the room on two sides were groupings of easy chairs and small couches that flanked larger but lower tables. She went behind the bar and made a pot of Italian Roast. While the coffee was brewing, she re-entered the dining room, approached the full-length window and drew the diaphanous curtains. Her eyes were less sensitive to the sunlight but nevertheless she still squinted; though the sunlight had risen in the sky it was still painfully bright to someone who had, she supposed, drunk too much and partied late into the night. She took in the spectacular view of the beautiful, well-kept golf course beneath them and beyond it the Santa Cruz Mountains. She sighed. Every morning it was as if she saw it for the first time and this morning was no different. She poured a cup of coffee at the bar, looked about and smiled to herself, and took it back to her office where she would remain at her desk until the restaurant began to hum with the first shift employees in the mid-morning. Too much alcohol and its accompanying headache or not, it was her routine and she loved it.
Chapter 4
Carlos Barecchi, the forty-eight-year-old owner of Fiore had originally come from Naples but he had been in the United States for twelve years. He still had, and probably always would have, a thick accent. He gave Barbara free rein when it came to the restaurant’s finances as well as its decor. The sum of all the paychecks and the sums of the food orders, laundry, housekeeping and utilities as well as the restaurant’s taxes went into the computer on the left side of her L-shaped desk.
But there was something terribly wrong: After paying the bills, the employees as well as herself, Fiore should have cleared at least $50,000. But so far, three-quarters of the year had passed and nearly $300,000 had disappeared in the past year alone, and it obviously wasn’t the last manager. She supposed he was still in prison, but though he was gone the embezzling hadn’t stopped; more money was missing and it seemed to be getting worse. “How many of the receipts were taken last night?” she mumbled to herself. She did some figuring, then with the end of her pencil she riffled through the previous night’s receipts from the waiters and bartenders that she had retrieved from the safe. “Their total should match what was entered into the computer outside the dining room but some of Billy’s receipts are missing from this week. This week we’re missing just over $3,000. So at the end of the year, if this keeps up, we’ll probably be out nearly $400,000 in only twelve months.” Until she found the embezzler she had decided to change the password for the computer bi-weekly and the safe’s every month. It was necessary to help her forgetful boss remember the new password and combination by secreting them in a small sleeve she had taped to the rear of the drawer directly underneath the computer. But though she had changed them it only slowed the criminal’s activities. It hadn’t halted them. He made up for the temporary slow-down the next night or two.
Chapter 5
An hour later, carrying his jacket that was draped over his right arm, his briefcase that was held in his left hand, the morning’s newspaper that was stowed under his left arm and a venti latte held in his right hand, Carlos elbowed open the door. In his low, Italian-accented voice he greeted his employee, “Barbara, buon giorno.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head apologetically. “Good morning.”
She nodded absent-mindedly, “Mr. Barecchi.” She tucked some hair behind her right ear and rubbed at her forehead. She chewed on the side of her index finger and said idly, “Over $3,000 disappeared last night, the highest yet. I changed the password just two days ago.”
Carlos swept a hand over his balding head. “And what about the safe?”
She shook her head. “That, too, was opened.” She pointed down at the receipts strewn about her desk. “Some of those receipts in there are missing. Tony was here last night. Because he can’t get into the computer, he jotted down the totals of the receipts. But we’re missing some. I checked all over the inside of the safe, but… What’s in the computer is different this morning.” Carlos set down his briefcase and moved behind her. He bent and his hands grasped the back of her chair as he stared at the computer screen. He scratched his head in confusion. She mumbled to her self, “So the discrepancy, $3,000, was probably dumped into another account in the early morning. It was done when the restaurant was closed. Someone, an employee, whoever, has—”
“What does the bank see?”
She rolled her eyes and briefly looked up at him. She wanted to exclaim, “What do you think?” But it wouldn’t solve a thing to be sarcastic. “They’re only interested in what are the true totals, not the ones I entered last night,” she answered as patiently as possible. “Missing receipts is our problem, not the bank’s.”
“What about the money we made from last night?”
She was losing her temper. “That’s what I’ve been talking about.” She let breath escape her slowly, “Sorry… If this keeps up, we’re going to have some financial trouble.”
He walked away from her. Then he spun around. “Then what’s to be done? This has gone on for almost a year. At least we found out last year that the previous manager had been embezzling but he’s gone. Does anyone else know the password to the computer? I mean, you change it often enough. What about the combination to the safe?”
Barbara looked at him with a smidgeon of suspicion that she hid by turning toward the computer once again. “No one knows either, just you and me.”
Carlos exhaled in frustration and idly drew his finger along the cool exterior of the safe. “No one else…” His was a pregnant pause. “Obviously we should get the police involved.”
“No!” she exclaimed. “No, two embezzlers so close together? No, let’s keep this internal for a little longer.”
Her boss’s hand dropped to his side. “No police?” His lips disappeared. Then he nodded slowly, “All right, we’ll keep on doing it your way for a couple of days more, Barbara.” He stabbed the desk with his index finger, “But only a few days, then we’ll let the police handle it.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll catch him.” Glancing up at her frustrated boss she chuckled uncomfortably, “It’s my own sanity that’s beginning to concern me. Maybe that’s what he’s trying to do: make me go insane.”
Carlos smiled though a little wearily, “You’re as sane as me, Barbara.” He gathered up the receipts from the desk, rubber-banded them and took them back to the safe. “Have you been working on this all morning?”
She nodded without looking up, her hand still rubbing her forehead in concentration. “Fiore’s got to go on, Carlos.”
“It will, it will. We’ll catch him or her. Take a break. Go have a cup of coffee. Let me wrestle with this.”
Unwilling to let the mystery go unsolved, she didn’t make a move to leave her desk.
“Barbara…”
She sighed and stood reluctantly. Carlos’ forehead wrinkled and his eyes widened, “New outfit?”
Barbara glanced down, ran a hand over her skirt, looked down at her sandals and exclaimed, “Oh, my God!“
He smiled despite himself, “Too
