“We cook them to an inside temperature higher than the one proposed by the FDA,” Paul said.
“How do you know the inside temperature?” Kim asked.
“We gauge it with a special five-pronged thermometer,” Roger said. “We take the temperature randomly several times a day, and it’s always the same: above a hundred and seventy degrees.”
Paul put down his spatula and rummaged in a drawer below the grill. He produced the instrument and offered it to Kim.
Kim ignored the thermometer. He took another hamburger and broke it open. It too was well-done. “Where do you store the patties before they’re cooked?”
Paul turned around and opened the refrigerator. Kim bent over and peered inside. He knew he was only looking at a small portion of the meat the Onion Ring had to have on hand.
“Where’s the bulk of them?” Kim questioned.
“In the walk-in freezer,” Paul said.
“Show me!” Kim commanded.
Paul looked at Roger.
“No way,” Roger said. “The walk-in is off limits.”
Kim gave Paul a shove in the chest with both hands, propelling the man toward the back of the kitchen. Paul stumbled backward. Then turned and started to walk. Kim followed.
“No you don’t,” Roger said. He’d caught up to Kim and pulled on his arm. “Only employees are allowed in the freezer.”
Kim tried to shake Roger off his arm, but Roger hung on. Frustrated, Kim backhanded the manager across the face with significantly more force than he’d intended. The power of the blow snapped Roger’s head around, split his upper lip and sent him crashing to the floor for the second time.
Without even a glance at the fallen manager, Kim followed after Paul who now had the freezer door open. Kim stepped inside.
Fearful of Kim’s size and impulsiveness, Paul gave him a wide berth. Paul looked back at his manager, who was now sitting on the rubber kitchen mat dabbing at his bloodied lip. Unsure of what to do, he followed Kim into the freezer.
Kim was looking at the cartons lined up on the left side of the walk-in. Only the first was open. The labels read: MERCER MEATS: REG. 0.1 LB HAMBURGER PATTIES. EXTRA LEAN. LOT 2 BATCH 1-5. PRODUCTION: DEC. 29. USE BY MARCH 29.
“Would a hamburger last Friday night have come from this carton?” Kim asked.
Paul shrugged. “Probably, or one similar.”
Kim stepped back into the depths of the freezer and saw another open carton nestled among the sealed ones. He opened it and looked in. He could see that the wrapping was also broken on one of the inner boxes. “How come this carton is open?” he asked.
“It was a mistake,” Paul said. “We’re supposed to use the oldest patties first so we never have to worry about the ‘use by’ date.”
Kim looked at the label. It was similar to the previous one except for the production date. This one said “Jan. 12” instead of “Dec. 29.” “Could a patty have come from this one last Friday?” he asked.
“Possibly,” Paul said. “I don’t remember the day it was mistakenly opened.”
Slipping a pen and piece of paper from the pocket of his white coat, Kim wrote down the information on the labels of the two open cartons. Then he took a single patty from each. This wasn’t easy because the patties were frozen in stacks separated by sheets of waxed paper. He pocketed the patties and the paper.
As Kim exited the freezer, he was vaguely aware of the muffled sound of a siren whining down. In his preoccupied state, he ignored it. “What’s Mercer Meats?” he asked Paul.
Paul closed the freezer door. “It’s a meat-processing company that supplies us with hamburger patties,” he said. “In fact, they supply the entire Onion Ring chain.”
“Is it in the state?” Kim asked.
“Sure is,” Paul said. “It’s right outside of town in Bartonville.”
“That’s convenient,” Kim said.
As Kim walked back into the kitchen area, the front door of the restaurant burst open. Two uniformed police officers came charging in with their hands resting on their holstered revolvers. Their faces were grim. Roger trailed behind them, angrily gesturing toward Kim with his right hand while his left held a bloody napkin against his mouth.