Beth rocks her hand back and forth. "For now, let's just say I'm looking into the possibility."
Michael props himself over her, knuckles resting on the tabletop, "Where's the problem?"
Beth taps a file with a painted fingernail. "The inputs are fine. I have all the invoices and delivery notes along with the stocktake figures from stores and housekeeping. I'm tying that in with what is likely to be used by guests in the hotel or the spa facilities..."
"But?"
"But I'm having to make assumptions about how much disappears due to guests who simply rifle the lot. You know, the ones who pocket the mini-shampoos and soaps as freebies. I can't believe it's all of them, but that's what the numbers suggest."
Michael straightens up, rubs the back of his neck. "You worked as a hotel maid for a while, didn't you? You'd have an idea from that surely, of what's typical."
Beth smiles. "That was only for a few days. I encountered Richard and that was the end of my Maiding Career."