Top Ten Clues You’re Clueless

by Liz Czukas

  “Maybe. Maybe it’s about something totally different.”

  “What else could it be?”

  He drums his fingers on the end of the conveyor belt. “Um . . .”

  “Exactly.” I flick my light off and start moving groceries at breakneck speed. It’s not like I’m in a rush to be accused of theft, but when I get nervous, I tend to do everything faster.

  Overhead, the PA loops back around to “Feliz Navidad.” Sure. Why not? Can’t hear this song too many times.

  There were three customers in my line when I turned off my light, and it doesn’t take long to get through them.

  With nothing left to bag, Tyson moves up the empty aisle between Zaina’s and my closed registers. He grips the edges of my little enclosure and lets himself tip backward until his hands break the fall. Over and over he tugs himself back upright and then drifts into a controlled drop. I hit the keys to total up my register and wait with my fingers poised over the printer for the tape to finish spilling, trying not to watch the muscles in his forearms tense and loosen just a few inches to my right.

  “So, you really think we’re in trouble over this?” he asks.

  “I don’t know how we could be in trouble if we didn’t do it, but . . . yeah, I think we’re very possibly in trouble.”

  He licks his lips a couple times. “Did you? Take it, I mean?”

  I whip my head to look at him. “No!”

  “I’m just asking.” He’s in the pulling-up part of his cycle and he ends up looking down at me from his full height. “You can tell me.”

  “I didn’t do it.” I raise my eyes to look at him and have to push my glasses up to see. “Did you?”

  “Nope. I need this job. Why would I risk it?”

  “I guess you wouldn’t need it as much if you stole ten thousand dollars.”

  He falters and has to scramble to grab the edges again. “Ten thousand?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Is that why you were asking how big that would be before?”

  “Yeah. Why did you think I was asking?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I thought it might have been about something in one of your books.”

  I tell him quickly about Micah’s math gymnastics.

  “But that could be too high, right?”

  “Could be. It’s still probably a lot more than we were thinking.”

  “Damn,” he says softly.

  The register releases my cash drawer and I lift out the till. “All right. I guess this is it.”

  Tyson grins. “Dead men walking?”

  “I hope not.”

  We fall in step as soon as we’re clear of the checkout lane, and we’re nearly touching as we approach the Break Room. I chance a look up at him as we slow before the door.

  He bumps my shoulder with his. “Hey, no sweat, right? We didn’t do it; we got nothing to worry about.” He doesn’t look like he’s completely sure about that.

  But I say, “Obviously,” because what else can you say?

  As I enter the door code, I can’t resist a last-minute prayer. Oh, please let this be about a Christmas bonus. Or at least a Christmas cookie. I don’t know which deity might be in charge of Christmas cookies, so I send my wish out into the general universe.

  Inside, Zaina sits at one of the rickety round lunch tables. She has her hands neatly folded in her lap. There are two other people in the room: Micah, who is reading a book, and Gabe, who is talking quietly on his phone in the far corner of the room.

  “What’s going on?” I whisper.

  “Kris took my till.” Zaina inclines her head toward the Count Out Room. It’s completely outside of normal procedures for someone else to count your till. They made a big deal out of it during cashier training.

  The little ball of dread in my stomach inflates a few sizes.

  “Where’s Mr. Solomon?” I ask.

  “In there. With Sammi.” Zaina nods at the Manager’s Office with wide eyes, which is really saying something. She has huge, hazel eyes under normal circumstances.

  There is a bank of counters along one wall, with a sink and the employee refrigerator. On top, I notice the black plastic trays that had been covered in Christmas cookies are all but empty. Just a few crumbs and a couple of rejected broken cookies. There’s also a less-than-appealing carton of eggnog with congealed dribbles down the sides. I wonder how long it’s been sitting out.

  Tyson browses the trays and chooses one of the broken cookies.

  Suddenly the door to the Count Out room opens and Kris appears in the gap. He sees me and laughs. “You look like someone stole your puppy.”

  A wheezy laugh sneaks out of me. “Sorry. I’m just nervous, I guess.”

  Kris lifts his hand, fingers wiggling in a “come here” gesture. “No worries. Here, I’ll count your till.”

  I don’t consider myself a complete Goody Two-shoes—take my malicious coverup of the damaged car, for example—but giving up my till makes me hesitate. A lot. Even though it’s my boss telling me to do it. My fingers just don’t want to ease up their grip as I extend the till toward Kris.

  He looks at me, and laughs again. Not in a mean way, but I feel my cheeks get hot. “Chloe, we can let it slide this once, okay? I promise I’m a really good counter.”

  That makes me blush harder, and I hand it over quickly. Kris smiles at me and goes back into the room.

  “Did Mr. Solomon talk to all of you?” I ask the others.

  Zaina nods, and Gabe puts up one finger to indicate he’s still on the phone. Micah marks his page with the jacket flap and looks up. “He thinks one of us knows something about the missing money.” He sounds almost cheerful about it. Then again, Micah sounds cheerful about nearly everything.

  THINGS YOU WILL LEARN ABOUT MICAH YODER WITHIN FIVE MINUTES OF MEETING HIM

  1. He is one of those people who seems to know a little bit about everything.

  2. He is homeschooled.

  3. He is terminally cheerful. Happier than anyone else I know. Sometimes I wonder if it’s a result of #2.

  4. His hair is almost as light as Sammi’s but clearly natural. His eyebrows are nearly invisible, and his eyelashes are just a shade or two darker.

  Gabe shoves his phone into his pocket as he approaches the table where Zaina sits. He flips one of the chairs around to straddle it and says, “So, which one of you did it?”

  “None of us did it.” Micah looks at all of us. “Did we?”

  “I didn’t,” Gabe says. “Kinda wish I did, but I didn’t.”

  “I didn’t!” Micah says immediately.

  “We know that.” Gabe rolls his eyes. “I don’t even know why he bothered putting you in here.”

  “I could have done it!” Micah protests. “I just didn’t.”

  “I didn’t do it,” Zaina says softly.

  “Neither did I,” Tyson agrees.

  “Me neither,” I say. “So, that just leaves—”

  As if on cue, the door to the Manager’s Office opens and Sammi comes out, scowling.

  “Sam—” Gabe starts to stand, but she ignores him and drops into the closest chair without a word. Her seat is about as far as she can get from the rest of us without leaving the room.

  A moment later, Mr. Solomon emerges. “Ah. Good. You’re all here.” Once again he’s got that conversational, “isn’t this a happy coincidence” tone that doesn’t fit the situation.

  “Hi, Mr. Solomon,” Micah says. No one else speaks.

  “I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,” he says after an agonizing pause.

  Actually, we all know exactly why we’re here. What’s not clear is what he’s still looking for after he talked to each of us individually.

  “As you know, there’s been an incident at the store. I’ve already spoken to each one of you about this. Unfortunately, no one has been forthcoming with the information I need to settle this matter.”

  Again, no one speaks. What would we even say? We’ve pretty much been accu
sed of stealing and now covering it up. I’ve watched enough police shows to know this is the time to keep quiet.

  “This is the largest GoodFoods store in the region,” Mr. Solomon finally says. “The busiest. What do you think I expected to find when I opened up our donation box this morning? Why do you think this was the store we chose to come to last? With a television crew, no less?”

  It’s pretty obvious he’s not looking for answers at this point, so we stay silent.

  “Sixty-seven dollars,” he continues. “We’ve been collecting money since November, and there are only sixty-seven dollars in this store’s box.”

  “That’s not possible,” Zaina says softly.

  “Precisely my point. Every other GoodFoods in this region had hundreds if not thousands of dollars in their boxes. The Fairview store alone had more than seven thousand.

  “I checked the security footage. Over the last forty-eight hours, I saw dozens of customers put their hard-earned money in here. They thought they were helping out needy families at Christmastime. But a thief has violated that sacred trust. The trust our customers put in GoodFoods Market.

  “I have reason to believe the culprit is among us in this room. It would be easiest for everyone if that person would step forward now.”

  Again, no one speaks. Solomon lets the silence stretch out, eyeballing each one of us in turn. The way he’s staring makes me feel like a dog that pooped on the rug.

  “I didn’t want to do this. I was hoping the guilty party would realize the seriousness of their actions and come forward out of a sense of duty. If not to me, if not to the GoodFoods name, then to their coworkers.”

  Sammi snorts, but tries to bury it in a cough.

  “Whoever did this has put all of your reputations on the line.” His eyes narrow. “Unless, of course, you were working together.”

  Still no one speaks.

  “Fine, then. If that’s the way you want it. I’m going to have to contact the police.” He straightens up. “You will all wait here until they arrive. We’ve excused you from the floor, and your work will be covered by the rest of the staff. You are not to leave this room. Do you understand? Perhaps some time to think will help you decide to give up the guilty party.”

  Solomon disappears into the Manager’s Office, leaving us alone under the cold light of the buzzing fluorescents.

  Sammi sighs. “Merry frickin’ Christmas.”

  Chapter 11

  FIVE CRIMES I HAVE ACTUALLY COMMITTED IN MY LIFE

  1. Speeding (who doesn’t?)

  2. Sneaking into a second movie after the one I went to let out (Eva’s idea)

  3. Jaywalking (again—who doesn’t?)

  4. Copying a friend’s CD (Eva’s)

  5. Trespassing (in Eva’s neighbor’s yard to jump on their trampoline)*

  *Note: Looking back, I think Eva may have been a bad influence on me.

  I don’t know what the others are doing, but I’m trying to process everything that just happened. I understood the words that came out of Mr. Solomon’s mouth, of course, but they didn’t seem like they belonged in that particular order. Is he putting us under some kind of work arrest? Is that even possible?

  The alarm on my watch sounds, but I manage to squeeze the silence button after only two chirps. It’s time for another blood-sugar check, but I’m not going to interrupt everything to do it now. I feel fine.

  “Well, this sucks,” Sammi finally says.

  “Are we, like, under house arrest or something?” Gabe wonders.

  “He can’t do that, can he?” Tyson looks at me, then the others. “Make us stay here, I mean?”

  “He definitely can’t.” Sammi stands up. “And he can’t do this bullshit grounding-us-at-work thing, either.”

  “Technically, we’re still on the clock,” Micah says. “So, I think he can ask us to do whatever he wants.”

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “Sammi, wait.” I stand slowly. “If we just figure out who did this, we’ll be out of here.”

  “What are you, Nancy Drew?” she says.

  “It’s better than sitting around waiting for the cops,” I say.

  “Fine.” She drops into a chair. “Whoever did it just say so, okay? I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.”

  “Did anyone here do it?” I ask.

  “How do we know you didn’t do it and you’re just asking the questions to mislead us?” Sammi quirks an eyebrow in challenge.

  “Because I didn’t do it,” I answer.

  “Well, neither did I,” she replies.

  “Me neither,” Gabe says.

  “It wasn’t me,” Zaina adds.

  “I didn’t take it,” Tyson says.

  “God as my witness, I did not take the money.” Micah lays a hand on his chest.

  Sammi makes a derisive sound. “Whoever did this needs to frigging confess already. I want to get out of this craphole.”

  “We’ve already established that no one here did it,” Tyson reminds us.

  “No, what we’ve established is that no one here is willing to confess,” Sammi counters.

  A few people groan, defeated.

  “This isn’t getting us anywhere,” I say. “We need to figure out a way to prove we didn’t do it.”

  “Oh, all right, you can strip-search me!” Gabe holds his arms wide.

  “I’m not taking my clothes off,” Micah says in all seriousness.

  “Nobody’s taking their clothes off!” Sammi says, giving Gabe a stern look. I can’t help but notice it’s the first time she’s spoken directly to him. He looks a little surprised himself, and for once, he doesn’t have a snappy comeback.

  “There’s no way to prove we didn’t do it,” Zaina says. “You have to trust someone if you’re going to believe them. What reason do I have to trust any of you?”

  “I’ll swear on a Bible,” Micah says. “A stack of them!”

  “No one thinks you did it, Micah.” I reach out to squeeze his wrist.

  “Why not? I could have.”

  “No, you couldn’t have,” Sammi says.

  “Yes, I could.”

  “Micah, you’re the kind of guy who would drive across town to give a penny back to the store if they gave you too much change,” I say. He’s like the Abraham Lincoln of GoodFoods.

  He looks at me, confused, but I’m pretty sure it’s because he can’t imagine there’s an alternative to that drive across town. “It would be the right thing to do.”

  I nod. “Exactly. There’s no way you embezzled a bunch of charity money.”

  “I’m just saying I could have.”

  “No, you couldn’t have,” Tyson, Gabe, and Sammi say simultaneously.

  Micah startles back at the loudness of their combined voices, then looks at his hands in his lap. “I did something bad once. Here at the store.” He looks up without lifting his head, giving him a slightly crazed expression.

  “No way.” Gabe laughs.

  “I did.” Micah raises his head now, his face earnest.

  “What?”

  “I’m not sure I should say.”

  “Out with it.” Sammi nudges his chair with her foot.

  “You know how Mr. Lincoln let me try out as a cashier a couple weeks ago?” Micah is the only other person besides Mr. Solomon who calls Kris “Mr. Lincoln.”

  “Yeah.”

  “My register came out wrong.”

  “And?” Gabe and I exchange looks and he tilts his chair back on two legs, gripping the table for balance. Registers come out slightly off sometimes. It’s not a big deal. Usually it’s just a few coins.

  “I must have given somebody too much change.” Micah clamps his hands on his head. “It was ten dollars off!”

  “What did Kris say?”

  Micah shakes his head. “Nothing. I didn’t tell him.”

  Gabe thunks his chair onto all four legs again. “You lied?”

  I totally get his accusing tone. I can’t believe it myself.<
br />
  “Not exactly.” Two spots of color appear on Micah’s cheeks. “I put in some of my own money.”

  Everyone groans. “Come on, man!” Gabe protests.

  “What?” Micah asks. “I didn’t want to cause trouble.”

  “It was a mistake, wasn’t it?” I clarify.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Then why do you think it would have been trouble?”

  “It was ten dollars!” he reminds us.

  “Micah, seriously,” Gabe says. “It was just ten bucks.”

  Micah shakes his head. “It was the right thing to do.”

  “Yeah, there is no way you stole a bunch of charity money,” Sammi says, standing up. “Micah is now the official standard of truth in this room. If you can swear on Micah’s head you didn’t do it, I believe you.”

  Taking a deep breath, she lowers her hand onto Micah’s blond head, palming it like a basketball. “I solemnly swear on the head of Micah Yoder that I did not steal the charity money.”

  “We already established that the thief would lie,” Tyson reminds her.

  Growling with frustration, she shoves Micah’s head as she lets go of it, then walks to the other side of the room and boosts herself onto a low counter. “We’re never going to get out of here.”

  “Maybe we should start at the beginning.” I reach into my apron to pull out my little notebook, and flip to a clean page.

  “You’re actually going to take notes?” Sammi says.

  My cheeks burn. “I thought it would help keep it all straight.”

  “Oh brother.”

  “Go ’head, Chloe.” Tyson gives Sammi a dirty look. “You were saying?”

  I hesitate, but Tyson nods. “We should start at the beginning.”

  “In the beginning there was the Word . . . ,” Gabe intones.

  “A little more recent than that, dipshit,” Sammi says.

  “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away?” he tries.

  “How about we stick with today?” I suggest.

  “Suit yourself.” Gabe leans back and props his ankle on his opposite knee. “You wanna know what I had for breakfast, or should I start with when I got here?”

  “How about this: Did anyone see anyone else near the money box when they arrived?” I’m asking everyone, but I focus on Zaina since she’s the only one I know for sure would have gotten close to it this morning.