No Bad Deed Goes Unpunished

MoonMart has cameras covering almost the entire store. Almost.

For weeks, stock and small amounts of till cash have been disappearing. Someone has been using the blind spots to carry goods into the staff break room, the only camera-free space besides the toilets, and then hiding them in personal bags before leaving.

Last night, I left my phone recording inside the room, angled at the lockers and the bag shelf. This morning, the footage shows me what the store cameras could not.

Brielle, nineteen, slips cosmetics into her handbag. Nell, also nineteen, packs expired food, toiletries, and cat food into her backpack. Roxie, twenty-one, brings in two cases of drinks and leaves without them. Finally, Marisol, twenty-two, counts an envelope of cash and tucks it into her satchel.

Four coworkers. Four thieves. Each of them believes she is the only one.

Not one of them has corrected the owner when his suspicion fell on me. An hour ago, I sent each of them the same text: Break room. Now.

I start uploading copies to the cloud.

The door opens, and all four women walk in, Brielle at the front. She smooths her glossy hair and gives me a practiced smile.

"There you are," Brielle says, her voice syrupy. "Nobody wants this to get ugly. Just admit what you've been taking."

Roxie leans against the doorframe, arms folded over her sleeveless uniform. "The owner won't fire you without proof. That doesn't mean we don't know."

"We don't actually know," Nell says quietly.

"Nell," Brielle snaps.

"...Sorry."

Marisol closes the door behind them and turns to face me. "If you're in trouble, cariño, tell us. We might be able to help. But letting everyone else suffer while you stay silent isn't right."

"Yeah," Roxie says. "Own your shit."

My phone chimes softly in my hand. Backup complete.

None of them notice. Marisol meets my eyes, her gaze steady and unreadable.

"So, cariño," she says. "Is there something you want to tell us?"

"Just this," I say. I tap my screen and initiate remote playback to the break room's wall-mounted monitor. It flickers to life, casting a harsh glow over the cramped space.

The footage is crystal clear. Brielle tucks expensive serums into her designer tote, her manicured fingers moving with quick precision. Nell carefully stacks cans of tuna and boxes of crackers into her backpack, her glasses slipping down her nose. Roxie hauls heavy crates of energy drinks toward the back corner, her forearms tensing with each lift. Finally, Marisol appears, methodically counting a thick stack of bills before sliding them deep into her satchel.

Silence falls over the room, heavier than the humid air outside. For three seconds, nobody moves.

"Wait. Stop," Brielle says. "That's... that's not how that looks!"

"It's exactly how it looks," I say.

The video loops and plays the sequence again. There is no shadow to hide in and no angle that suggests anything but blatant theft.

"No, listen!" Brielle's voice climbs. "If those items were damaged or expiring, I was only moving them so customers wouldn't buy them. I was protecting the brand's reputation. Technically."

"Protecting the brand? Bullshit, Brielle. You were stuffing your face with luxury creams." Roxie whips toward the monitor, then turns her glare on me, her jaw tight. "And you. You kept this? You watched us do this and didn't say a word?"

Nell shrinks back against the locker, her face pale behind her glasses. "Oh no..."

I smile. "Oh, yes."

Roxie steps forward, her height making her presence even more imposing in the narrow room. She cracks her knuckles, the sound sharp as a gunshot in the tense silence.

"You think this is funny?" she demands. "You're sitting there smiling while we all go down because you wanted to play detective?"

"It wasn't just me..." Nell's voice is tiny and trembling. She stares at the floor, her thin fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. "I really am sorry. I just needed things for my cats. And the food was old anyway. I would have put it back if I could..."

"Nell, shut up! Don't make it worse!" Brielle snaps, though her usual charming composure is fraying at the edges. Her blue eyes go wide and desperate as she turns back to me.

"Oh, it's going to get worse," I say. "So what do you suppose I should do about this video?"

To be continued in chapter 2...