The Devil's Pet

Chapter 10

Sunday June 22, 2008

Hot pancake and sausage aromas filled the air as Sean walked up to the front door of Uncle Bill’s Diner. Largely unchanged in his memory from past visits it reminded him of the times when Paula and he would occasionally bring Cathy here for Sunday breakfast. Long meandering Sunday drives were a way for them to share adventures and new discoveries together as a family. On one of those drives they wound up hungry in front of Uncle Bill’s, it had been a favorite ever since.

Though he hadn’t been there for years, when Jimmy Moore asked him where he wanted to meet this name jumped from his brain into his mouth before realizing he said it. Perhaps it was because he was spending most of his days at the hospital with Cathy talking and reading to her. Both men agreed they didn’t want to meet where they were likely to be recognized. This seemed as good a place as any, far enough away from either’s home. They agreed to meet at nine am.

Sean walked through the door at eight-thirty am with a newspaper in hand and set up at a booth that had a clear view of the front door. Following Bill’s advice, he wasn’t going to trust Jimmy, getting there early allowed him to see if he was alone and the car he was driving. Sean had parked his car at the bank next door and walked over.

Opening a newspaper and nursing a cup of coffee, he kept a watchful eye out for his visitor. Although it was a warm morning he wore a light jacket to cover the gun he was carrying. His grandfather had been a police officer in Chicago and left it to Sean’s father, who in turn left it to him. If he was caught with the Thirty-Eight Special, he knew it would mean big trouble for him. But, in light of his current predicament it seemed almost comical to worry about it.

By nine fifteen the waitress was visibly unhappy with Sean, so he decided to order breakfast, it appeared he was being stood up and might as well eat.

As he handed the menu back to the waitress a tall black man slid into the booth across from him, and without taking his eyes off of Sean, said “I’ll have the ham and egg special and a cup of black coffee.” 

The waitress looked at Sean, and he nodded his head in confirmation.

Sean laid his hands on the table, but his booth partner had one hand on the table while purposely keeping the other in his lap.

Sean spoke first, “Jimmy?”

The other man replied, “I thought you would look different, bigger or meaner or I don’t know what, but anything other than this,” and he swept his table hand in disdain gesturing at Sean.

“I never thought a buttoned down, white bread citizen like you would be able to kill him. I know sometimes looks don’t mean shit. But man, you must have something else going on that doesn’t show up on first sight, either that or you’re the luckiest motherfucker ever to walk the earth. And it isn’t your detective skills either because I’ve been watching you palm that same coffee cup like it was full of tequila since you sat down forty-five minutes ago.”

Sean looked surprised. Apparently this was Jimmy. Sean’s surprise seemed to please him.

Jimmy continued, “What, you think I’m fucking stupid? And parking your car at the bank, what the fuck is up with that, Columbo?”

Thinking for certain now that Bill had given him good advice not to trust Jimmy, Sean decided to ignore his comments and not let him lead the conversation. Instead, he took it in another direction to let him know Sean wasn’t the clueless chump Jimmy portrayed.

“If I’m so Colombo, then why are you so concerned about holding your gun?”  Sean said as he nodded toward the table.

Then he continued, “Besides this is the suburbs, you shoot a gun here--hell if you even pull that thing out, you can count on every cop car in the county showing up. Unlike your neighborhood, gunshots aren’t exactly a common sound around here. The cops on this beat are bored half the time looking for action. They’d love to have the opportunity to handcuff someone like you and haul your ass away to get their picture in the paper. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather eat breakfast and have a conversation. Unless you’re one of those tough guys that just likes to fight with cops and get your mug shot taken.”