The small café near the industrial area had plastic tables arranged beneath a corrugated-metal roof. In the evening, shift workers sat there waiting for daladalas or making calls before going home. Zawadi chose a table at the side where there was no music, because she wanted to hear every word from Halima, who had worked in North Flour Factory’s accounts department before leaving the previous year.
Halima arrived holding a plastic envelope against her chest. She looked at Zawadi, then at Mr. Kato, who sat on the other side of the table.
“You said you did not want to pull me into the dispute,” Halima said.
“I still do not,” Zawadi replied. “I only want what you remember and the documents you kept. If there is something you do not know, say that you do not know.”
Halima sat down but did not open the envelope. “At the factory, the person who says she warned people early is the first one asked why she did not stop the problem. I kept this copy during the handover. I do not know whether it protects me or makes me look as if I have a secret.”
Mr. Kato pushed a glass of water toward her. “We will use it as a source of information, not as a judgment.”
Halima took out a printed email chain whose pages had been folded. The first emails concerned the formatting of the delivery schedule. One ticket number had been moved from the invoice column to the truck-plate column. Halima said that was a data-display error in the system, not a change to the weight or the amount due.
“So the first correction was legitimate?” Zawadi asked.
“Yes. During the handover we corrected the table’s appearance so the operator would not confuse the columns. But the corrected weighbridge copy that changed ML-204 to ML-240 was not the correction I made.”
Mr. Kato asked to see the date. The email had been sent two days before the settlement. Halima circled the time line. “Here I sent a message to the factory accountant. I said invoice KUN-884 had already received a weight deduction. I asked them to remove another line with the same source.”
Zawadi leaned closer. The subject was short, but the body was clear: the credit note and the settlement worksheet could count the same difference twice. Halima showed them the accountant’s reply. It said, “Noted. Will check before final batch.”
“And was it checked?” Zawadi asked.
Halima opened the last page of the chain. “I do not know. I left before the batch was closed.”
Mr. Kato took the worksheet copy he had obtained from the factory. He compared KUN-884 with Halima’s email. “The second line is still in the final worksheet.”
Halima closed her eyes. “That is why I did not want to come.”
“Because you were afraid people would say you were the one who left the duplication there?”
“I am afraid people will say I knew what was being done to you and stayed silent. I warned them by email. But I also knew that a warning is not the same as making sure someone removes a deduction.”
Zawadi did not tell her that the email could be a weapon. First she wanted to know whether Halima was changing the truth to protect herself. “Were you responsible for approving the settlement?”
“No. I handled delivery accounts. Someone else prepared the final batch.”
“And did you ever speak with Hassan?”
“He came to ask whether KUN-884 had received an adjustment. I told him there were two lines and the accountant needed to check. I did not know what day he would sign.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he needed the final figure quickly.”
The coffee arrived, but no one drank it. Beside the road, a bus sounded its horn, and Halima covered the email chain with her hand like someone protecting something the wind could carry away.
“I need your statement dated, and ready to stand before Salma and the factory accountant,” Zawadi said.
Halima laughed bitterly. “You want me to say my factory knew?”
“I do not want you to say more than you can prove. Say that you sent the warning, made the formatting correction, and did not prepare the final batch. Those are the things we have.”
“And if they say I kept the email because I wanted to sell information?”
“We will tell them you kept the copy for the handover. There was no payment and no secret agreement.”
Mr. Kato showed her how short the statement would be. First, Halima identified the date and her former position. Second, she explained that KUN-884 appeared in a weight deduction and that she asked for the duplicate to be removed before the settlement. Third, she separated the formatting correction from the later corrected copy that changed the truck number and quantity. No sentence said the factory had stolen.
Halima read it three times. “If you put my name on this, Salma will hate me.”
“Perhaps,” Zawadi said. “But staying silent will make the number continue to look like suspicion. Your statement can turn it into a fact.”
Halima signed the first and second pages, then added the date and a phone number where she could be reached. She refused to leave the original email chain. Zawadi agreed; they scanned a copy on Mr. Kato’s phone, and Halima kept it in her envelope. Before they left, Zawadi asked whether anyone else had been on the thread.
“Salma saw the message,” Halima said. “She replied that accounts would correct it before the final settlement.”
“Where is her message?”
“It is in this chain.”
Mr. Kato photographed the reply. The dispute changed again. It was no longer about one accountant forgetting a line. There had been a warning, someone who saw it, and a worksheet that remained uncorrected.
Zawadi’s phone rang. Salma had sent a message: “We cannot discuss former staff communications in an open claim.”
Zawadi replied, “We will disclose only a dated factual statement connected to the side clause and the duplicate source invoice.”
When Halima read it, she put her cup down. “Are you really going ahead?”
“Yes. But I will not use your fear to make you a witness for my side. You will speak to what you saw.”
“And if you lose?”
“If we lose because the duplicate is not proved, I will accept it. If it is not answered, it still has to be written down.”
When they left the café, Halima gave Zawadi the envelope with a copy of the email chain and told her not to use a screenshot as the original. Zawadi promised to preserve it as evidence of the date, not recreate it. Evening darkened, and the factory lights began to shine across the road.
Mr. Kato opened the first page again. The email subject was written in capital letters, as if someone had tried to stop the matter from passing quietly: “REMOVE DUPLICATE BEFORE FINAL SETTLEMENT.”
---