Scene One

Chapter Title: The Missing Ledger

Elara leaned forward, resting her elbows on the old wooden desk. The air in Mr. Henderson's office was thick with the scent of stale coffee and old paper. Outside, rain tapped a slow rhythm against the windowpane.

"So, Mr. Henderson," Elara began, her voice a low purr that held an edge of steel. "Let's try this again, shall we? The ledger. The one that vanished between Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday morning. Where is it?"

Mr. Henderson fidgeted with the cuff of his impeccably pressed but slightly sweat-stained shirt. "Vanished? A rather dramatic term, wouldn't you agree, Detective?" He forced a weak smile. "I assure you, nothing simply 'vanishes' in my establishment. Things are... misplaced. Temporarily misfiled, perhaps."

Jake, slouched in the armchair across from Elara, sighed. He ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "Misfiled, Mr. Henderson? For forty-eight hours? And only that specific ledger, the one detailing the quarterly expenditures for the South Wing renovation? That's quite a coincidence, wouldn't you say?"

Henderson's smile faltered. "Coincidence is merely a pattern awaiting discovery, Detective. A... statistical anomaly. I am quite certain it will resurface."

Elara tapped her pen lightly on the desk. The sound was surprisingly loud in the quiet room. "Or it won't. And if it doesn't, Mr. Henderson, that makes things... complicated. For you." Her gaze was unwavering, a predator sizing up its prey. "Because that ledger contains evidence of, shall we say, creative accounting. Doesn't it?"

Henderson's face flushed. "Creative? I prefer the term 'optimizing fiscal allocation.' It's a standard practice in... certain high-pressure financial environments." His voice was rising, a tremor starting to creep in.

"Right," Jake drawled, straightening up slightly. "And optimizing fiscal allocation sometimes looks an awful lot like fraud to a jury. Especially when the 'allocation' is missing. You understand our concern, don't you?"

"My concern," Elara interjected, cutting off Henderson's stammered reply, "is that you're wasting our time. We know the ledger wasn't 'misfiled.' We know it was removed. And we have a witness who saw you, Mr. Henderson, leaving this office with a rather large, distinctively bound book under your arm, late Tuesday night."

Henderson gasped, his eyes wide. "A witness? Impossible! I... I merely took some files home to review. For productivity. Dedication, you see."

"Dedication," Elara repeated, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Or dedication to making sure that ledger never saw the light of day again. Which is it, Mr. Henderson? Because the clock is ticking, and our patience, unlike your 'misfiled' ledger, is rapidly running out."

Henderson swallowed hard, his gaze darting between Elara's piercing stare and Jake's calmer, but equally insistent, expression. The carefully constructed facade of the formal, composed executive was crumbling fast.

"Perhaps," Henderson whispered, his voice barely audible, "perhaps I could... assist in its recovery. If given the appropriate motivation."

Elara exchanged a quick glance with Jake, a silent communication passing between them. The corner of Elara's mouth twitched upwards, a small victory claimed.

"Now we're getting somewhere, Mr. Henderson," Elara said, leaning back slightly, the steel in her voice softening just a fraction, enough to offer a glimmer of hope. "Tell us about that motivation."