Chapter 2 - Eleanor Shaw
Deputy Mark Collins separated everyone before questions began.
Todd went toward the manager’s office.
Mark stopped him.
“You stay where I can see you.”
“This is my restaurant.”
Samuel Baird’s attorney arrived by video call less than five minutes later and corrected that statement.
“It is not.”
Todd’s mouth tightened.
Jenna sat in Booth 2 with an ice pack against her cheek while Deputy Collins took her statement.
Eleanor sat two booths away.
She did not interrupt.
Did not whisper suggestions.
Did not tell Jenna what Todd had done to anyone else.
That mattered.
When the deputy asked whether Jenna wanted medical evaluation, she said yes.
Not because she thought her jaw was broken.
Because four years of single motherhood had taught her something.
If an injury might matter later, document it now.
Todd heard.
He laughed from near the counter.
“Of course she does.”
Deputy Collins turned.
“Mr. Mercer.”
Todd raised both hands.
“I said nothing.”
“You did.”
The deputy wrote something down.
Todd stopped.
At urgent care, Jenna was diagnosed with soft tissue swelling and a minor inner lip cut where her teeth struck.
No fracture.
No concussion.
Painful.
Documented.
Her eight year old son Noah sat beside her after Jenna’s neighbor brought him.
“Did somebody hit you?”
Jenna looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Did you hit him back?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Because she needed the job.
Because Todd was bigger.
Because forty seven people had been watching.
Because she had not known what would happen next.
“Because I did not need to.”
Noah considered.
“Okay.”
The following morning, Eleanor asked to speak with Jenna.
Her attorney offered to join.
Jenna did not have an attorney.
Yet.
Samuel Baird’s lawyer arranged a separate employment attorney through an independent legal aid referral so there would be no confusion about loyalty.
The lawyer’s name was Mara Singh.
She made one thing clear immediately.
“I do not represent Samuel Baird.”
“Good.”
“I represent you if you choose to retain me.”
“What does it cost?”
“Initial consultation is covered by a worker assistance fund. After that, we discuss options.”
Jenna liked her.
Eleanor waited until Mara nodded before speaking.
“My job is not to convince you Todd committed anything beyond what you experienced.”
“Then why were you there?”
Eleanor folded her hands.
“I was hired six weeks ago by Samuel Baird.”
“For the cameras?”
“For a broader audit.”
“Financial?”
“And workplace conduct.”
Jenna almost laughed.
“Samuel suddenly cares about workplace conduct?”
Eleanor did not become defensive.
“That is a fair question.”
For ten months, staff had assumed Samuel knew exactly what Todd was like.
Every time someone complained, Todd said:
“Samuel agrees with me.”
When a server named Paige lost weekend shifts after questioning tip adjustments, Todd said Samuel approved.
When dishwasher Evan Price was fired after reporting Todd shoved him into a freezer door, Todd said Samuel wanted him gone.
When Jenna asked why twenty dollars disappeared from her tip share one Saturday, Todd showed her an email.
SAMUEL APPROVED NEW ADJUSTMENT POLICY.
Eleanor slid a printed copy across the table.
“Did the email look like this?”
Jenna stared.
Same layout.
Same sender.
Same signature.
“It is one of them.”
“It did not come from Samuel.”
“What?”
“The address is wrong.”
One character.
Real:
Jenna had never noticed.
Neither had anyone else.
“Todd created fake owner emails?”
“We know at least some were not from Samuel. We are still determining who created them.”
“Why did Samuel wait ten months?”
“He did not know the complaints existed.”
“That is hard to believe.”
“Yes.”
Again.
No defense.
Eleanor explained.
Samuel Baird was sixty six.
He founded Maple Street with his wife thirty four years earlier.
After she died, he stepped away from daily operations.
Then cardiac surgery kept him out for months.
He hired Heartland Restaurant Services to handle payroll and management oversight.
Todd came through Heartland.
Complaints were supposed to go through regional operations before reaching Samuel.
They rarely did.
“What made him suspicious?”
“Money.”
Of course.
Samuel received a purchase offer for the diner property from Prairie Horizon Development.
The offer referenced operating losses that had never appeared in his own monthly reports.
Someone outside knew a different set of numbers.
Samuel called his accountant.
Then his attorney.
Then Eleanor.
“What exactly do you do?”
“I spent twenty seven years investigating financial misconduct and wage complaints for the state. Now I do private forensic work.”
Jenna looked at her elegant jacket.
“You sat in Booth 7 pretending to drink tea.”
“I was drinking tea.”
That almost made Jenna smile.
Then Eleanor continued.
“Yesterday afternoon, Samuel authorized his IT contractor to remove the original recorder drive and replace the system with a temporary live cloud recorder.”
“So Todd opening the cabinet…”
“He expected the original drive to be there.”
“Why did you have it in your handbag?”
“Because I was taking it directly to counsel after dinner service.”
“You happened to still be there when he hit me.”
Eleanor’s face became colder.
“I was observing Todd before leaving.”
“Because of another employee.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Eleanor hesitated.
Then:
“Claire Donnelly.”
Jenna remembered.
Twenty four.
Red hair.
Worked mornings.
Left five months earlier.
Todd said she stole cash.
Everyone believed him because surveillance supposedly showed her near the register.
“What happened to Claire?”
“She says Todd hit her.”
Jenna stared.
“When?”
“Behind the freezer door where the dining room camera could not see.”
“What did Todd say?”
“That she fell.”
“Was there video?”
“According to the incident report, no.”
Eleanor opened a folder.
“But the old hard drive contains deleted index entries from that exact night.”
“You recovered them?”
“Not yet.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because someone tried very hard to erase them.”
Jenna thought about the way Todd went straight to the security cabinet after slapping her.
Not to apologize.
Not to check her face.
To the camera system.
Mara said:
“Deleted data can sometimes be recovered. Sometimes not.”
Eleanor nodded.
Then Jenna asked:
“Why do you care so much about Claire?”
Eleanor looked toward the window.
For the first time, professional calm slipped.
“Because Claire is not the reason I started looking at Todd Mercer.”
Jenna waited.
Eleanor turned back.
“Two years ago, Todd managed a restaurant in Oklahoma.”
“And?”
“My granddaughter worked there.”
Jenna’s stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“Todd shoved her into a metal shelving unit after she questioned missing tips.”
“Was he charged?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“The security footage disappeared.”
Jenna stared at the black drive.
Eleanor said quietly:
May you like
“I have spent two years wondering whether that was coincidence.”
Continue to the next part: Eleanor did not choose Maple Street randomly. Todd’s violence and missing security footage follow him from a previous restaurant in another state.
