THANKS FOR THE COFFEE CHAPTER 6

It was one of those tragic scenarios when the stars just seem to align in a way that everything just goes wrong. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong people. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Upon arriving at the scene JC was greeted with the prospect of investigating what appeared to be a simple robbery gone bad, with the waitress describing a chain of events that gathered momentum and went from seemingly harmless flirtation, to anger, to mindless rage and death in the space of a dozen heartbeats.
“So, I was like, you know, just getting these guys some coffee. They come in right after the old guys down the other end of the counter. There were three of them, I guess, you know, about twenty five, thirty years old and we were just talkin’, you know, ah, and the cute one, he’s making eyes at me. The other two just nodding, checkin’ out my boobs, kinda like they don’t think I notice. And I’m pouring ‘em some more coffee, thinking the good lookin’ one’s gonna ask me for my number or something, you know, and I say something like “You’ve got a pretty mouth”, and shit, he goes all fuckin’ weird, psycho look in his eyes, and pulls out this little gun and smack!! Bastard hits me and breaks my nose, for Christ’s sake and starts shooting all over the fuckin’ place. I’m down on the floor behind the counter crying and hear the old guy fall into his plate, knocked stuff all over the floor. By the time I get up to look around those three assholes are gone and the till is empty. Didn’t even see what happened to the other guy. The fat one. Did they shoot him too? Didn’t think a person had that much blood in them. Musta been ‘cause he was so big, huh? More blood than a regular person? I ain’t gonna clean THAT up!”
“No, Miss, it doesn’t appear he was shot, unlike his friend there, Mr., ah, Chesterfield. Looks like when his buddy was shot and knocked over the coffee and silverware, the heavy gentleman, Mr. Towers, yes, Carleton Towers, it appears he slipped in some spilled grease and fell, coming down hard on a sharp shard of coffee cup and severed his femoral artery. Must have bled out in seconds. I’d guess with his weight, probably had high pressure, he would have been hemorrhaging like a fire hydrant. If that hadn’t killed him, also looks like he might have choked on his own dentures when he fell. We’ll have to wait for the coroner’s report to be sure, though.”
Detective Turnbuckle pulled the reed from the corner of his mouth and examined the softened pulp. “Myself, I try to stay away from diner food. It’ll kill you, one way or the other.”
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