To Die For

The sedan crunched over gravel, rolling to a stop in the parking lot of a 50s style diner. They were rare these days. Even rarer in the Australian Outback.

Rarer than hen’s teeth, thought Tim as he climbed out of the car. It was a hot day with a hot wind, pushing dust across the near-abandoned car park. Tim noted four cars, three beat-up wagons, paint stripped and rusted while the fourth stood out like a sore thumb. A sleek black Audi, shimmering in the heat like a mirage.

Adjusting his tie and leaving his jacket unbuttoned, Tim pulled his akubra from the dash and placed it on his head. It didn’t do much to alleviate the heat, but it was a part of him.

Checking his holster, Tim made the short walk from car to diner doors and pushed them open so casually, like he was brushing away a fly. The quiet ringing of a bell announced his arrival and he entered the air-conditioned diner, feeling the immediate change from oven to freezer. 

A quick scan revealed all one would expect in a 50s style diner; checkered linoleum floor, red, backless stools lining a curved bar made of chrome and neon with small, two-person tables separating the stools from the bigger, red seated booths. And of course, the jukebox. The crowning touch of every diner. Though this one was a digital replica. Hundreds of songs, no vinyl and still a novelty. It stood silent in the corner, as lonely as this diner on a barren stretch of desert highway connecting the east of Australia to the west.

“Good afternoon, welcome to Patty’s,” said a surprisingly perky middle-aged woman. She had dark hair and dark eyes. Her skin was weathered from years under the sun and teeth yellowed from years of smoking but she seemed happy. Her dark eyes alighting on a new customer. 

Maybe she was just happy to have a job.

“Take a seat wherever,” she said.

Tim glanced around the diner, noting two men at the bar, sitting as far away from each other as possible. One was drinking out of a mug and reading the paper while another was having their ‘world’s greatest’ cheeseburger, at least that’s what it said on the menu board above the bar. 

Tim instantly dismissed them, they were of no interest. Instead he looked to the booths and found three men sitting in one. Two of the men wore dark suits and dark gloves with dark sunglasses. Despite the air conditioning, they were red and sweating. Tim knew how they felt given his own attire. Despite his light grey suit being cotton and lightweight, he was sweating and his boots seemed to have shrunk, pinching his toes 

One of the men sat facing the door, while the other sat on the opposite side, both of them there to protect their boss. The man Tim was after.

Before the waitress could say anything else, Tim brushed his jacket aside, showing off his silver star surrounded by a wreath and the lady paused, her mouth still hanging open still in the process of speaking.

“Federal police, ma’am,” Tim said quietly. He spoke with a drawl, slow, elongating some letters, shortening some words, and as lackadaisical as can be, like talking expended too much energy.

The waitress double checked the badge. It was the most interesting thing she’d seen in this diner. Though between the odd pickup line and car park punch-ons between truckers there wasn’t much interesting happening here.

“I need you to quietly pass these two gentlemen,” he pointed to the two men at the bar, “their bill and have them leave. Make sure they do it naturally and not at the same time. And make sure it happens before I put my hat on the table.”

“What’s going on,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

Tim noticed her nametag on her pale, pink-striped dress. “Nancy, please do as I ask,” he said, holding a hand up to stop any further questions. Using her name gave him extra authority, like it was impossible for anyone to know her name unless they were important.

“Secondly, act natural. I know it’s hard to do given the circumstances, but if they call you over, you serve them like any other customer. But once the hat is on the table, you hide and don’t come out for nothin’. Can you do those two things for me, Nancy?”

Nodding, Nancy moved back behind the bar while Tim slowly made his way past the booths until he reached the last one.

The bodyguard facing his way perked up but Tim ignored him, his focus entirely on the third person sitting in the booth, next to the other bodyguard, his back to Tim.

The man was hunched over a plate of chicken, wearing a pale green, sweat-soaked, linen shirt and black cotton slacks. He ate piggishly, grunting and groaning, trying to inhale all the food on his plate as quickly as he could.

The second bodyguard noticed the reaction from the first and craned his neck. As soon as he saw Tim, he nudged his boss.

The grunting stopped and the large, balding, sweaty head turned to the bodyguard.

“What!” the man snapped.

The bodyguard said nothing, only indicated behind him and the man’s bowling ball-shaped head swung around revealing a pencil thin moustache and brown eyes on a pudgy face covered in chicken grease.

He paused, his guards paused. Even the air paused. The only sound was the quiet humming of the air conditioner.

Leo Cardinelli. Even the name made Tim’s mouth twist, like he’d eaten a lemon.

They stared at each other, Leo in his seat, covered in grease and Tim standing above him, like a benevolent being deciding his fate.

Then Leo broke it in his usual, jovial fashion, “Inspector Pittman! To what do I owe the pleasure?” He indicated the vacant seat opposite him with a half-eaten drumstick.

Tim slowly lowered himself into the seat, the cushioned seat blowing out air, protesting the added weight, sitting casually. Like old buddies catching up.

“You need better bodyguards,” Tim said, eyeing off the one sitting next to Leo. “How are ya?”

Then to the one next to him, he said, “Hot today.”

Neither of them commented and Tim looked back at Leo who watched the exchange with half a chicken breast hanging out of his mouth. “They not big on talkin’?”

Leo shrugged, chewing down the rest of his food, “I don’t pay them to talk.”

“Don’t pay ‘em to protect you either.”

“They’re the best money can buy,” Leo said indignantly. Not for any love of the two, Tim knew, rather the idea that Leo didn’t have the best.

Tim smirked, “I’d be asking for a refund.”

The one next to Leo made to move, but Leo stopped him, “Ignore him, Rich. He’s trying to get a rise out of you.” He looked Tim directly in the eyes, “He wants a reason. Any reason. So let’s not give him one.”

Tim said nothing, only watched as Leo stuffed another drumstick in his mouth. The entire lower half of his face glistened with grease and bits of chicken. As Leo continued to eat, Tim glanced towards the bar, watching Nancy hand the bill to the burger man and then leaned in close, like she was going give him a peck on his cheek. Finally the burger man left, the only evidence of his being there was half a world's greatest burger and an almost full glass of coke, beads of condensation forming puddles around it.

“So Inspector, what can I do for you?”

“Walter Hess.”

“Ever had the burger here?” Leo asked, ignoring the name. “World’s greatest is a stretch but it’s pretty fucking good.”

Tim shook his head, “Never been here before.”

“Shame. Wonderful place,” he said, waving a chicken bone around like a classical conductor. “Middle of fucking nowhere. You get sand to the east and sand to the west with a 50s diner those yanks love so much.” He stuffed another piece of chicken into his mouth.

“Do tweedledee and tweedledum know CPR?”

“Why?” he mumbled, mouth full.

“You keep inhaling that chick’n like that, you’ll get a bone stuck in yer throat.”

“Is that right?”

“Happened to my Pa’s dog when I was not yet ten. He cooked chick’n on the barbie, gave some to the dog and the bone broke, splintering, and it lodged into his throat. Pa tried to save it, but it choked to death.”

“That’s a sad story.”

“He was only three.”

Leo dropped another chicken onto a plate of bones. “Did your Pa get you another?”

“No.”

“Shame.”

“Do you ever feed them?” Tim asked, looking at the graveyard of chicken bones before him.

Leo raised an eyebrow and Tim indicated the two bodyguards, “Your pets. You feed em? Pay for their food?”

Leo glanced at both of them and Tim noticed just the slightest change in his expression. The arrogance disappeared, replaced by doubt, concern, and wondering how loyal his men were. The look disappeared as quickly as it arrived but Tim picked up one of the wings and tossed it over to the guard opposite him, “Hungry?”

The man didn’t even flinch and Tim noticed the resolve return in Leo’s eyes.

“You train ‘em well.”

“Why are you here, Inspector?”

“I told you what would happen if you ran.”

“Apparently,” he replied, ripping a piece of chicken off the bone.

“Did you hear me when I told you?”

“I heard you, Inspector.”

“Then why did you run?”

“Didn’t run. Witness died, I’m free to go where I want.”

“Walter Hess.”

“Damn shame what happened to him,” Leo said, shaking his head. “It’s a cruel world out there.”

“Real coincidence he was beaten to death just before your trial.”

Leo shrugged, “Like I said, cruel world.”

“Then you ran.”

“Free man.”

“You reckon I enjoyed drivin across the Nullibor looking for you?”

Sighing, Leo turned to the guard beside him and nodded. The guard stood and Tim instinctively went for his holster.

“Calm down, Inspector. Rich is going to get something to make it worth your while.”

Tim relaxed and watched Rich head out the door. As he exited, Tim saw Nancy talking to the coffee drinker. She was smiling, twirling her hair but the man was entirely focused on his paper.

“You could let me go,” Leo said, drawing back Tim’s attention. “No one would have to know.”

“I would.”

Leo sat back, his chicken finished. He grabbed a napkin and started drying his greasy hands, as he did he said, “Ironic.” He tossed the napkin on the table and grabbed another, “I’ve heard about you Inspector Tim Pittman of the Australian. Federal. Police.” He cut off each word. “The evidence you ‘obtained’, thrown out of court which left Wild Bill Runyan a free man, until a few days later he was found dead with a hole in his head. Investigated for the mysterious disappearance of Johnny Two-fingers. The Bells court shooting.” Leo laughed, spitting flecks of chicken over the table, “The list goes on. You are hardly the one to hide behind morals. Your hands are no cleaner than mine.”

“You bludgeoned an innocent person to death.”

“Unfounded allegations.”

He raised his hand in a short, sharp wave and called out, “Honey, some service please.”

Nancy appeared moments later, still with a bright smile but Tim saw the nervousness behind the facade. The smile that reached her eyes earlier was now an imprint. She was doing her best but he knew she was scared. She didn’t know exactly what was going on but she felt the tension in the room. The silence, the way the guard stared at Tim. The way he sat, casual-like but she saw how tense he was. The carefree arrogance of the balding, grease-covered Leo. Everything was at boiling point and she wanted to get out of here.

Tim felt for her, but he had to control the situation. Keep her calm, therefore keeping Leo calm. Tim looked past her to the coffee man. He was finishing up, draining the remains from his cup, then folded up the newspaper and tossed it on the bar. He stood up, pulled out his wallet and tossed some money on the counter. Then he left, nodding in their direction though no one but Tim saw it.

The bell dinged again and he left just as Rich re-entered.

“I’ll have the cheesecake, darl,” Leo said. “You want anything Inspector?”

Tim returned his gaze to Leo, his cool blue eyes regarding him and he said, “Nothin’ for me.”

“Inspector, it’s rude to come in here, accept my invitation to sit and not eat. You cannot come in here, hassle me and then not have the courtesy to join me in a meal.” He looked up at Nancy and gave her a greasy smile, enough to make a corpse squirm, “Make that two cheesecakes, darl.”

Nancy nodded, “Anything else? Coffee? Drinks?”

“Just the cheesecake.”

She nodded again and turned away, not before glancing at Tim. He ignored her, not wanting to give anything away.

“They say the cheesecake here is to die for.”

“World’s greatest cheeseburger, a cheesecake to die for, you think they might be bullshittin’?” Tim asked.

Leo shrugged, “It’s all about where you are,” he said. “You’re driving a thousand k’s across nothing but desert. Seeing nothing but sand. You do that and I bet even the roadkill would start looking appetising.”

Rich arrived at the table with a briefcase. Leo nodded at him and he dropped the briefcase on the table, clattering the plates.

“What’s this?”

“Incentive.”

“For?”

“For wasting your time. To go away. I don’t know. Don’t care really.” He paused, dabbing at his lips, then nodded to Rich, “Show him.”

Rich released both catches and lifted the lid, then turned it so Tim could see. He gleaned at the stacks of hundred dollar bills, tightly lining the case from left and right, top to bottom. Tim raised his eyebrows.

“$100 Gs,” Leo said, like it was pocket money he was giving his son for the ice-cream truck.

“Same offer you made to Walter?”

“Jesus Christ Inspector, what is with you? This is the break we both want. I know you earn fuck all, so I am offering you a token of my appreciation for letting me go.”

“I haven’t let you go.”

“But you will. No one is innocent, not even Walter Hess.”

“What was his crime?”

“Jaywalking. Speeding. Maybe he clicked the wrong link and saw a naked 17-year-old on the internet. The fuck should I know?”

“And for that he deserved to have his head caved in with a cricket bat?”

“What else am I going to do with a Gray-Nicolls?” he laughed.

Tim sat back, taking off his hat and placing it delicately on the table before him. “Even if I took the money, where are you going to go? The airports, seaports, they’re all locked down. You have nowhere to hide, you will be forever looking over your shoulder. Feeling that noose tighten around your neck.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Leo said with a grin just as Nancy arrived with two plates, pausing slightly when she sat the hat on the table. “Here you go,” she said quietly, almost a whisper, putting one plate in front of Leo and the other in front of Tim.

Leo watched her leave, “Nice ass,” he said. “I think I might take her for a ride before my flight.”

“Johnny Two-fingers, Bells Court,” Tim said, bringing Leo’s attention back to him, “What makes you think I won’t add you to the list.”

“You might shoot me,” Leo said. “But you won’t shoot Rich and Harry..”

Tim shrugged, “I reckon I got a good shot at all three.”

Leo laughed, “You have balls on you, Inspector,” he said grabbing a fork and slicing the tip of the cheesecake wedge and taking a bite. He moaned in exaggerated pleasure. “Delicious,” he said around a mouthful of the creamy dessert.

“Or I’ll just offer them the money. I’m not after them and I can’t explain the sudden appearance of a hundred thousand in my bank account. How bout it boys?” he said, looking at them. “50k each?”

Harry next to him shifted in his seat, looking at the briefcase while Rich’s head moved slightly, the thought enticing. Tim could see the doubt in their minds, wondering if this fat bastard was worth it.

Leo paused with another forkful of cheesecake halfway to his mouth, he glanced at Harry next to Tim and realising Rich was standing out of sight behind him, feeling as if he was cornered. An easy target.

Suddenly, quick as a flash, Tim grabbed a fistful of Harry’s hair in his right hand, slamming the inattentive man’s face down on the table as hard as he could. 

BLAM!

The plates rattled and Harry cried out, his nose plastered across his face, blood gushing out of his nose as he collapsed. As he did this, Tim pulled his gun from his holster with his left hand with lightning quick reflexes born from experience and years of practise, he drew, aimed and fired. The gun barked - BANG! BANG! - echoing around the empty diner, and Rich collapsed to the checkered lino floor, two smoking holes in his chest.

“You sonofabit-” Leo said, trying to pull his own weapon but his hands were too greasy, his body slow from years of eating and Tim fired again, the bullet blasting through Leo’s skull and embedding itself in the red cushion behind him.

Leo slumped over in his seat.

The diner buzzed from the gunshots and Tim moved out of his seat holstering his weapon. He looked down at the slumped body of Leo Cardinelli, still holding a forkful of cheesecake.

“To die for, huh?”