I hurried over to the store and cut around to the back door, catching Naomi the stocker just as she was unlocking it.
Naomi saw me and rolled her eyes. "Aunt Ina? What are you doing here? Weren't you told to go home and wait for word? What are you back for?"
I kept my voice level. "I left a water cup in the storeroom yesterday. I just came to grab it."
Naomi pursed her lips, pulled the back door open, and hurried me along. "Get it fast, then. Manager Whitney will be here any minute, and if he sees you it'll be me who gets an earful."
I nodded and walked in quickly.
I didn't go to the storeroom. I turned straight for the grain and oil section.
I dragged over a little stool, stepped up, and felt around behind the rice bags until I found the old phone.
I set the stool back, turned to leave, and ran right into Maisie coming the other way.
Maisie folded her arms and said, all snide, "Well, if it isn't Ina. You've got the nerve to come back?"
I ignored her and walked straight out the back door.
Outside the store, I switched on the old phone.
It was full of recordings, one after another, each half an hour long, lined up in order.
I started scrolling from two weeks back. The first few days, everything was normal.
Then, at two-thirty in the morning on the third, right after I'd closed out the register, locked the cash box, and left with my bag over my shoulder.
A figure crept into the frame. It was Rex.
He glanced left and right, made sure no one was around, pulled a set of keys from his pocket, and opened the cash box like he'd done it a hundred times.
He took out a stack of hundreds, didn't even count them, stuffed them straight into his jacket pocket, locked the box back up, and slipped off like nothing had happened.
It really was him!
And during those three days the cameras were "broken," he'd come the most often, taking twelve thousand in one go.
I was shaking with anger. So it really was the two of them, uncle and nephew, robbing the store blind and then pinning it on me, an old woman.
I drew a deep breath and kept scrolling.
I got to a clip from the early hours of the seventh. Two people came into the frame, Otis and Rex.
The two of them leaned against the counter, smoking, and every word came through clear on the recording.
Rex had a cigarette in his mouth, a little rattled. "Otis, is this really going to be okay? That old woman looks like a stickler. She won't figure it out, will she?"
Otis blew a smoke ring, completely unbothered. "Figure out what?"
"I shut off the cameras. She's an old woman. What does she know about computers?"
"When the time comes we just say the accounts don't add up, that she took it. There's nothing she can say."
Rex still sounded worried. "But what if she calls the police? If the cops come, won't they find something?"
Otis snorted. "So she calls them. No cameras, no evidence. There's nothing the police can do."
"I've done my homework. Her husband's got cancer, and money's tight at home."
"Her daughter thinks she's a nag and can't stand her, and the niece she lives with is a fair-weather type too."
"Nobody in her own family believes her. Who's going to stick up for her?"
"An old woman. Scare her a little and she'll cave. And then she doesn't just cover the money, we squeeze another chunk out of her too."
Rex laughed under his breath. "You really know what you're doing, Otis. Oh, and that twenty grand, I'm taking it to pay off my gambling debts first. Rough streak lately, lost a lot."
Otis said it like it was nothing. "Fine, fine. Just go easy on it, and don't come this often next time, it's too easy to slip up."
"Give it some time and I'll cook the books off the shrinkage numbers to fill the hole."
So they'd had this planned from the start!
Counting on the fact that no one would help me, no one would believe me, counting on the fact that I cared about my dignity. That was how they threw their filth on me, swallowed the store's takings, and still meant to shake me down for more.
I gritted my teeth and kept scrolling.
I got to a clip from yesterday's early hours, and there in the frame was Lavinia's face!
How could it be Lavinia?
How was she in the store in the dead of night?
On screen, Lavinia smiled at Otis, chummy as anything. "Otis, my aunt seems to be getting suspicious. Yesterday she even asked if I knew anyone at the store, trying to dig up something about the cameras."
Otis leaned back against the counter, smiling. "It's fine. She can't stir up anything."
"Don't worry. Once this goes through, that five thousand I promised you, you'll get every cent. Just keep a close eye on her and tell me the second anything moves."
Lavinia's smile turned even sweeter. "Don't worry, Otis!"
"She lives at my place. I know every move she makes. She's the type who cares most about saving face, and her daughter can't stand her either."
"And besides, even if she kicks up a fuss, who's going to believe her?"
Otis burst out laughing. "Once this is all over, I'll set you up with something easy, better than the job you've got now."
So they'd been in it together all along.
I'd given her everything I had, and she sold me out for five thousand dollars.
I wiped the tears away.
Crying was no use. Feeling wronged was no use.
This debt, I was going to settle it with them, one item at a time.
I put all the relevant videos in order by time and copied them onto the USB drive I carried with me.
I scrolled through the other videos on the phone and, to my surprise, found there was plenty more.
Otis eating in private with a supplier, taking their envelopes.
And last month, he'd used the same trick to frame a young summer temp, a girl, forcing her to quit on her own and pay back two thousand dollars on top of it.
Clearly this wasn't the first time he'd pulled something like this.
What I had in my hands wouldn't just clear my name, it could drag out every rotten thing he'd done over the years.
It was already past nine, the store's morning rush.
I straightened my collar, drew a deep breath, and walked right in.
The moment I stepped through the door, I saw Otis standing by the service desk, pitching his voice loud on purpose so no one around could miss it.
"Yes, yes, that's the one, the night-shift cashier, name of Dickerson, stole thirty thousand of the store's takings and still won't admit it. I've already called the police—"
He hung up, turned, saw me, and pointed. "Ina Dickerson? You've got the nerve to show up?"
"Did you bring the money? If you didn't bring the money then get lost, don't hold up our business!"
