“I think it’s too late for that. I think this paper makes me officially famous in New York.” We tried to laugh, even though we both knew my troubles were just getting started.

Lea was at the back of the restaurant and motioned me to Elliott’s office saying, “We don’t have a lot of time. Elliott is getting ready to leave for the market. Here, before I forget.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill. “Leave it to Elliott to go with a big bill.” She handed it to me. I looked at the thinly rolled bill in my hand, not exactly sure what I was looking at.

“What is it?” I asked, still stupid.

“Evidence,” Lea said. “You may need it.” When I still looked perplexed, she explained. “It’s for snorting drugs, Bailey.” From then on, I just followed her lead.

“First, I pulled up the restaurant’s account. There is a lot of money flowing through this account—more than should be generated just by the restaurant but with very little left over. So where is Elliott getting the money? And what is he doing with it? Secondly, look at your joint personal account. There was a big deposit yesterday.”

I stopped her before she could link it to something nefarious. “I deposited that yesterday. It’s a retainer for a new job, which I may or may not have to give back. I’m going to withdraw it today and put it in my business account.”

“It’s already gone. There was a huge cash withdrawal after the deposit cleared.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means Elliott beat you to it.”

“How did he move it that fast?”

“Are you kidding? You really don’t know Elliott. When he’s in his office, he is constantly looking at the accounts. Apparently, the business has been losing money, and he’s had to use borrowed money to make payroll and do the business of running the restaurant.”

“We made that much of a mess running the restaurant, Lea? We always have a full house. Do I even want to know what he is using this borrowed money for?”

“It’s not our fault. Drugs cost money.”

She then produced a key and opened the top drawer of Elliott’s desk. There was nothing in the drawer except prescription medicine bottles, mostly empty. It was a sea of orange bottles and white caps. His drawer looked like a can of open sardines packed snugly and tightly. “I know what you’re thinking. These are all prescriptions. Elliott could be buying extra drugs and putting them in prescription bottles to make it look legit. It is an alphabet soup of heavy-duty drugs, muscle relaxers, and vials. Have you seen him shooting up? By the way, all the drawers look like this. You should take some pictures,” she said, like a true detective.