Page 16 of Wild Ace

I sit and listen to my nonno recount what happened to Detective Carthwright and it’s hard to hear, but I keep my eyes moving around the room, cataloguing everything I see to keep myself from getting emotional.

When he gets to the part about the safe and telling the detective how much cash was inside, Carthwright pauses his writing. “You had $80,000 in cash in your safe?”

“Yes.”

“It was the deli’s earnings for the month so far as well as his entire life’s savings,” I tell him, and Carthwright doesn’t hide his surprise.

“I don’t trust banks,” nonno adds.

“Who knew you had that much in there?” Carthwright asks.

“No one knew the exact amount or the code but me. But my employees knew my system and knew I only deposited money into the bank once a month to pay the bills.”

“Do you have records to show the amount you had in there?”

“What do you mean?” nonno asks, his brows furrowed.

Oh no.

“Do you have accounting books or anything official to prove you had $80,000 in there?”

“I…” My nonno starts, then stops, thinking it over.

I was never a part of that aspect of the business. He took care of everything. He’s a very smart man and was always more than capable of handling the books.

“I have my records for tax purposes.”

Detective Carthwright presses his lips into a thin line and writes something down. “What?” I ask, slightly annoyed. “What’s that look for?”

“It’s just that tax forms don’t prove anything in regards to the amount stored inside the safe. And if the cash is found, it can’t be proven to be yours. It’s also an issue for insurance claims. People could make up any amount when making a claim. What’s to stop you from saying you had $80,000 in there when it was only $50,000 for example.” I clench my jaw. “I’m not saying you’re lying or would lie. I’m just being honest with you when it comes to situations like this. You could prove the month’s earnings, but not the savings.”

“Then what are we supposed to do? Be out $80,000?”

“You’ll have to discuss that with your insurance company after we file our report. Mr. Manzato, is there anyone you can think of that would do this? Any disgruntled employees, past or present?”

Nonno looks to me and I give him an encouraging nod to tell the truth about the new kid.

“I hired a local boy at the beginning of the month. Benjamin Pastorelli. I’ve known his parents for a long time and they said he’s been getting into trouble and hanging with people they don’t exactly like. He’s been okay so far, but he did see me deposit the cash midday last week when he came to ask me a question about a delivery. All my other employees have been with me for at least a decade.”

“Hmm,” Carthwright hums, jotting down more in his little notebook. “Sounds like he’s our best lead. I’ll make sure to have him picked up for questioning. Is there anything else you can recall about the two men? What they said, or did?”

“I think I covered it all,” nonno says.

“If you remember anything else, please call.” The detective hands the both of us his business card and stands. “I’ll let you get some rest now.”

“Is it safe to go there when he’s discharged?” I ask Carthwright. “His apartment is above the deli.”

“Yes, the investigators should be done in an hour or so and will board the front door up to seal in the scene. But I’m assuming there’s a back door for you to use?”

“Yes, there is.”

“Then you’ll be good.”

I shake his hand. “Thank you so much.”

“I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you,” nonno says, shaking Carthwright’s hand as well.

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