Maintenance issues.
The Hotel Manager had approved ninety-one thousand dollars in credits over nine months.
High.
Not impossible.
Then finance discovered something else.
Many credits went to reservations booked through one concierge company.
Same company.
Repeatedly.
The Chairman looked at the spreadsheet.
“Ownership?”
The Regional President answered.
“Still checking.”
“Check faster.”
At 2:40:
The concierge company belonged to the Manager’s brother-in-law.
The Chairman leaned back.
There it was.
Not proof of fraud.
But enough for questions.
“Did he disclose the relationship?”
“No.”
“Contracts?”
“Approximately four hundred thousand dollars in referred bookings.”
“Any commission?”
“Indirectly.”
The Chairman looked up.
“What does indirectly mean?”
“Company receives a percentage.”
“And Manager receives?”
“We don’t know.”
“Find out.”
At three, the receptionist from the morning knocked on the suite office door.
The Chairman let her in.
She carried a USB drive.
He looked at it.
“What’s this?”
“Screenshots.”
“Of?”
“Guest notes.”
The Chairman’s expression changed.
Hotel systems included internal guest profiles.
Preferences.
Allergies.
Frequent-stay records.
Service history.
Useful when handled correctly.
Dangerous when abused.
The receptionist sat.
She opened the laptop.
One guest profile contained a note:
VERIFY CARD. LOOKS TRANSIENT.
Another:
WATCH LOBBY ACCESS.
Another:
LIKELY COMPLAINT SEEKER.
The Chairman stared.
“Who writes these?”
“Managers.”
“Only managers?”
“Supervisors can.”
She clicked another.
USE SECURITY IF HE ARGUES.
The Chairman recognized the guest name.
A retired judge.
Black.
He remembered the complaint.
The Regional President had categorized it as “communication dispute.”
The Chairman’s jaw tightened.
“Print everything.”
At 4:10, he called legal.
“No disappearing notes.”
Counsel nodded.
“We’ll preserve the database.”
“Full image.”
“Yes.”
“Historical edits too.”
“Yes.”
“Who accessed profiles.”
“Yes.”
“Who deleted profiles.”
“Yes.”
The Chairman looked toward the window.
Then:
“And nobody tells the Manager.”
Dinner service began at six.
The Chairman ate in the employee cafeteria.
Nobody knew who he was.
A dishwasher sat across from him.
Twenty-two.
Immigrant family.
College classes two nights a week.
The Chairman asked:
“You like working here?”
The Dishwasher shrugged.
“Pays okay.”
“Management?”
Another shrug.
Then:
“Depends who sees you.”
The Chairman paused.
“What does that mean?”
The Dishwasher looked around.
“When guests see you, managers smile.”
“When guests leave…”
He dragged one finger across his throat.
The Chairman nodded.
“Why stay?”