Page 21 of Script Swap
“What if there’s only one person on the shift?Who verifies their count?”
Fox shook their head.“Nobody.”
“And how do they check the actual cash take against ticket sales?Like, couldn’t they lie about how many tickets they sold and pocket the money?”
“Oh yes.And it’s happened.But not as often as you’d think.My father has been doing this for a long time.He’s an excellent judge of character.”Fox’s face screwed up, as though in acknowledgment of a current exception.“He’s seen about everything you can imagine—the ticket trick, like you said, or kids giving tickets to their friends and not charging them, or the ones who steal office supplies.We even had a guy who ran off with the take, although that was years and years ago.For the most part, it’s been fine.”
“Well, if Micah and Seth mysteriously go missing, I guess we’ll know what happened.”I looked around.“Did something different happen last night?The drop on the safe wasn’t working, so they had to store the money somewhere else?Or somebody hung around too long making small talk?Anything out of the ordinary.”
“This is a community theater,” Fox said.“Literally all our patrons stand around too long making small talk.But no, the boys didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.They did their count, dropped the money, and went home.”
I moved over to the safe.“So, the idea here is that they put the money in this chute-thingy—”
“The drop.”
“And it slides down into the belly of the safe, where nobody can get to it.”
“Leaving aside your decision to say ‘the belly of the safe,’ yes, that’s how it works.”
I ran my hand over the safe.The door had plenty of scratches it had acquired over God only knew how many years, but none of them were fresh, and they didn’t seem to be concentrated at a seam or around the lock.The lock itself was one of those combinations with a keyhole set in the center, giving you two ways of opening it.I tried to slide my hand in the drop, but I could only get my fingers slightly past the metal flap at the bottom.
“If you get your hand stuck in there,” Fox said, “they’re going to have to cut it off.”
I rolled my eyes.Noticeably.(But I did pull my hand out pretty fast because one time, I’d had an unfortunate experience with a vending machine that tried to hold on to my Kit Kat, and let me tell you: I was not eager to repeatthat.)
I tried rocking the safe, but it was solidly secured.I dropped down onto the floor to see if someone had cut their way up from the basement and gotten into the safe from the bottom.(Although you’d think the sheriff might have noticed something like that.) The bolts holding the safe in place weren’t even visible—they were hidden behind a piece of metal skirting so that an enterprising young chap like me couldn’t saw through them and carry the safe away.
Finally, I got to my feet.“What am I missing?”
Pulling a surprisingly pained face, Fox opened the center desk drawer.They plucked a key from the little tray meant to hold pencils and pens and let it hang from one finger.
I said some words that Bill Shakespeare never put in any of his plays.“You have got to be kidding me?”
“I’m afraid not.”
The key fit easily into the safe’s lock.The door was heavier than I expected, but it swung smoothly on its hinges.There was nothing inside, of course, except two empty tills where Terrence must have normally kept the float.
“This isn’t a crime,” I said.“This is an open invitation.”
“Yes, well, it’s worked perfectly fine until now.”
“I thought somebody walked off with the take one night!”
“And it had nothing to do with the safe, darling.”
I opened my mouth; I felt the powerful need to expound on how stupid this setup was.But somehow, I managed to convert the words into “Who else knew about the key?”
“In theory?Only my father and I.”
“Andnotin theory?”
“It’s hard to say.My father claims he never told anyone.But my father is…sensitive.”
If you ever wanted proof of moral growth and, uh, fiber (that sounds way more scatological than I intended), I didn’t even say,The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
All I said was “I’m going to have to ask him about that.What about keys to the door?”
“In theory?”Fox said with a note of wry amusement.“My father, Milton, and Betty.”
