h ID and password, and checked for more pending, non-urgent assignments. No more appeared in this southernmost part of the county. She headed back toward Pacific City. Her last meal had been the previous night. Since moving to Oregon, she had eaten only breakfasts at Doris’s. She noted that the Bakery and Café remained on her list of establishments to examine receipts, so she figured she might as well check out Doris’s lunch menu.
At ten to three, she pulled up next to the curb for the second time that day.
“Hey, Greta. Whatcha doing here at this time of day?” Doris shouted when Greta walked in.
“I got caught up with an accident and then following up on some truancy down in Netarts. Never got a chance to stop for lunch. Also, I missed breakfast because I got the call right when I pulled up to meet Bruce.”
Doris nodded. “He mentioned he thought you got a call. So, you’re here for lunch?”
“Thought I’d give you a try.”
“Few minutes later, and you’d have been out of luck. I planned on closing at three o’clock to head up to Tillamook City to visit some family. I sometimes close early if the weather is expected to be bad or if I or other staff can’t work. I was just cleaning up.”
“I don’t want to hold you up if you’re about to close. I can find something somewhere else.”
“Hell, no. Long as you don’t want anything other than soup or a sandwich.”
“That sounds fine. What’s the soup of the day?”
“Soup of the day?” cackled Doris. “I can tell you’ve been spoiled by higher-class establishments. Here it’s the soup of the week, and this week it’s navy bean with ham.”
“Perfect. Maybe a slice or two of bread, instead of crackers?”
“Sourdough, I assume.”
“You assume correctly.”
Greta sat at a booth in the otherwise empty café. The sunny skies of the morning were a thing of the past. An ocean fog bank covered the town. It was high, the bottom of the bank maybe a hundred feet off the ground, with the solid overcast acting as a gray ceiling that cloaked the town. A dozen or more seagulls cruised around and above buildings, walked along the ground, or perched, watching for food opportunities. One gull stood on the roof of her vehicle.
Don’t you go shitting on my rig, you cheeky little bugger, she thought.
It flew off as if hearing her warning, just as Doris delivered the steaming bowl of soup and a side of sourdough.
“Here you go, Greta. Anything else?”
“Yeah, Doris. I’m checking around on a case. Do you keep records of all the customer payments? Either computer records, merchant’s copy if it’s by credit card, or paper slip if by cash?”
“Computer records? Does this look like a computerized business to you?”
“Well, I thought that with a staff as huge as yours, you’d need up-to-date methods for payroll,” Greta teased.
Doris laughed. “You mean the whole staff? Me. Shirley. Me. Allie. Me. Juan. And me. Let’s see . . . that’s . . . seven. My God! You’re right! I do need a computer just to keep track of all those people.”
Doris sat opposite her, while Greta blew on a spoonful of steaming soup.
“Seriously, Doris, do you have any kind of records going back two months?”
“I got merchant receipts going back to this last January,” said Doris. “Every day I tally up the take from the receipts. I only keep them until I do the taxes and then toss ’em. I’ve never needed them; it’s just in case.”
“I’d like to look at them if it’s okay with you.”
“Okay by me. I’ll give you the box when you leave.”
“Box?”
“The box I keep ’em in. When I close out the register every day, I throw all the receipts into a box. I call it my square filing system.” Doris guffawed. “I’ve never needed them for the taxes, so I quit keeping them in order years ago. Still, I’m in the habit of holding on to ’em for the current year just in case.”
Doris rose to finish cleaning up for the day, while Greta concentrated on the soup and the bread. The ham and bean soup hit the spot. Hot, hearty, and with a homey aroma to counter the gray outside. When she finished, she looked around. She heard Doris in the back room. Greta left the booth, walked to the register, and called out twice for Doris. She got no response, so she dinged the bell at the counter. Doris came hustling out, carrying a cardboard box labeled Campbell Soup.