“That’s right,” Ken said. “To the fucking penny.”
“Usually, but not over the past six months,” I said.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Sundance has gone over the books three times now, and over the past six months, station three comes up consistently short,” I replied.
“Station three? That’s Turnip’s station.”
“You have any issues with Turnip? Seen him do anything suspicious lately?” I asked.
“No, nothing,” Ken replied. “I’m shocked, to tell you the truth. He’s a good kid.”
“Well, maybe not,” I said. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure out what the fuck’s been going on around here.”
“Sure, but I’m confused,” Ken said. “If he’s been skimming, how did I not know about it?”
“Sundance told me that whoever’s been doing this has been underreporting the amount of product being sold and pocketing the remainder. They’re using a sophisticated method that’s allowed them to operate undetected until now. They skim specific amounts of money based on strain and weight. It was only when Sundance happened to run an inventory report broken down by profit per workstation that he noticed the discrepancy in the numbers.”
“How much has he made off with?” Ken asked.
“About thirty large.”
“Thirty-thousand dollars? Holy shit. So now what?” Ken asked.
“Now you call Turnip to your office and we have a little chat.”
Ken swallowed hard before picking up the phone and paging Turnip to his office.
“What’s up, boss?” the shaggy budtender asked as he came through the door.
“Take a seat and close the door behind you, will ya?” Ken said and the young man did as he was asked.
As I sized Turnip up, I remembered something Hatch once told me, “Desperate men do desperate things.”
I had to figure out what could have possibly motivated this kid to steal thirty grand from a one-percenter biker gang.
“Aero here has a couple of questions for you,” Ken said motioning to me.
“Sure, what’s up?” Turnip asked in a carefree, slacker bro, tone. If Turnip had a guilty conscience, he hid it pretty fuckin’ well.
“How do you like working here at Monumental High?” I asked, warmly.
“Are you kidding? It’s the best, bro. The employee discount alone, you know what I’m sayin’?”
“You go to school?” I asked.
“Um, no. I was going to C.U. but I had to drop out,” Turnip replied.
“Run out of tuition money?” I asked casually.
“Nah, bro. My parents paid my way. They were super pissed when I got kicked out.”
“I’ll bet. Expensive living on your own, huh?”
“Nah, I moved back in with them. It kinda sucks, but I have this sweet job here, so it’s all good. Besides. As long as I have money for snow tires and season passes, I’m good to go,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Big snowboarder huh?”
