Marcus had spent twelve years in the county auditor’s department, his hair now thin and silver at the temples. He did not look at me, keeping his eyes on the menu board above the counter.
“You should not have called me on the office line,” Marcus said.
“I needed to know about the San Pedro housing fund,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Eighty thousand dollars left that account on March ninth.”
Marcus reached for the salt shaker, turning it slowly in his palm. “The voucher went through. It was flagged during the internal quarterly run, but someone cleared the exception manually.”
“Who cleared it?” I asked.
“I cannot tell you that, Lydia,” Marcus said, his voice dropping even lower. “I have three years until my retirement, and the people who sign those manual clearances do not like questions.”
“But the money is gone,” I said.
“It is gone,” Marcus said, finally looking at me. “Eighty thousand dollars was transferred to Pacific Coast Consulting, but there is no record of what services they actually provided to the housing project.”
