Something isn't right with the numbers.

It seems like you're all set to...
Wait a second.
You start looking through the invoices that are popping up now that the software has updated.
Why do so many of these invoices seem to have two versions? You do a little tinkering around and discover 15 invoices from the past 9 months that seem to have been altered after they were logged into the database.
What the.....
Whenever you do a job, a reno or flooring, or any kind of one-shot gig, there's almost always a cash deposit involved, usually 10% of the final price. It helps you recoup losses in case the buyer backs out, or anything else untoward happens. However, you see here than on these invoices that the amount of the cash deposit taken in was altered after the invoice was processed. On one, from 1,500 to 1,200. On another, from 1,800 to 1,500. All told, around $12,000 dollars in cash deposits is missing. You do a quick check of the companies accounts receivable. Sure enough, the cash deposits match the lower, altered invoice amounts.

You sit back, anger boiling in your chest. Kayla, and it has to be Kayla because she's the only one who enters these besides you, has been taking deposits of the correct amount from the customers, altering the amounts on the invoices, and, presumably pocketing the difference. She was STEALING! She had stolen $12,000 from him in 9 months, and probably more before that. The update was only kicking back errors that far back.

"Kayla!" You keep your voice flat, but loud enough to be heard. "Can you come here please?"
She bustles into the room, with a smile on her face. "You fixed it?"
"Oh, yeah. I fixed it." you point to the chair in front of your desk. "Sit down, please."
She sits, a puzzled look on her face, and she pulls at her skirt nervously, legs crossed. You stand and shut the door. When you return to your desk.
"Do you have something you'd like to tell me?" You spin your computer monitor toward her, with the screen clearly showing the discrepancies.
Kayla's face starts to drain of color, and her eyes get wider as she reads the screen. "There...." she swallows. She has no poker face at all. "There seem to be some clerical errors."
"Clerical..." you laugh, but with no humor... "Clerical errors, Kayla? These invoices are deliberately altered, lower than the stated deposit amounts that were given to the customers, which I'm sure is what they paid! You have been skimming the deposits! You are STEALING from me!" Your rage boils over, and her mouth drops open...
"I......" she is desperately searching for some kind of excuse..."...th...th..this doesn't prove....anything."
"How about I call Mary Anne, and then Mitch. Maybe they can explain what it proves." Mary-Anne, your accountant, and Mitch....your lawyer.
Kayla deflates. Her eyes drop to the floor... "you....you don't understand."
"Oh, I think I get it, Kayla. When my dad was alive, you had everything you wanted. A cushy job, benefits, his cock to suck..." That's a little cruel, but you don't care, "...but then he kicked the bucket, and suddenly, the taps got turned off." She flashes a look of **** at you. For all the stereotypes of the secretary mistress, Kayla had probably really loved your dad, even if he hadn't necessarily loved her back in the same way.
"I had bills...my mom's in the hospital with chemo. My insurance didn't fully cover the damage my Benz did to the guard rails when I crashed. I've been having to pay the city out of pocket." She had crashed the Benz that Frank had bought her, three days after his funeral. She had been driving on the highway at 90 mph, hysterically crying, and it was a miracle she was unharmed.
"If your salary wasn't meeting your needs, you should have talked to me about a raise, Kayla."
"Oh like you would have given me anything, James!" She's crying now. Hot, angry tears. "You fucking hated me! You told me to my face at his funeral that I was the reason he DIED!" Yes, you had done that. But you had been upset.
"Kayla...I've never hated you. And this..." you point at the screen, "not only can I not let you work here anymore, I have to call the cops. You haven't just stolen from me! You stole from our customers!"
Her angry tears give way to bitter, **** ones as she rushes around the desk to fall on her knees in front of your chair. "PLEASE! PLEASE don't! I'll pay back the money! I...I don't have it all, but I'll sell stuff and work for no pay...I'll come clean your house, whatever you need! I need this job, and I can't go to jail! James please..." she grabs your hand. You're uncomfortably aware of how close her hand is to your junk, which has decided this is a good time to perk up. "There's gotta be something I can do..." Her face is full of despair. "I'll....I'll do anything." Her hand is resting on your thigh. You can see the pink line of her bra, and her tits are heaving with emotion.