Laugh or Death (Lexi Graves Mysteries Book 6) by Camilla Chafer Page B
Authors: Camilla Chafer
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get caught on any of the broken glass. I saw him helping the manager onto a barstool as the bartender's head bobbed cautiously above the bar.
"How do you know that?" yelled a man's voice from the back of the restaurant.
"They ran out the back and set off the alarm," yelled Solomon. "I secured the door and they can't re-enter."
"You can't be sure. They could come in the front," persisted the same voice.
"Listen for sirens and think about that," Solomon replied . The chorus of police sirens began to overtake the soft, piped music and the restaurant's own alarm. "Everyone pick up your napkins, grab a pen if you've got one, or borrow one, and write down what you saw. The police will be here in a few minutes, and the sooner you get your statements down, the better," Solomon ordered.
"The napkins are linen," sobbed the manager, his head in his hand s. "Brand new! From France!"
"Buy new ones," said Solomon. "Call it a ‘staying alive’ treat."
A s I dusted off my chair and sat, reaching for a pen in my purse and a dry napkin, it appeared that the other diners were simply too shocked to do anything but follow instructions. By the time MPD burst their way through the doors, the diners were calmly writing their observations.
"Don't panic!" yelled the first officer needlessly, drawing his weapon as he scoured the restaurant. "Where'd they go?"
"Gone," said Solomon, leaning against the bar.
"Thataway," added the manager, pointing to the rear corridor. "They made me empty the safe before they ran."
"Aww , man," said the second officer as he stowed his gun in his holster. "We missed it!"
"I got you thirty-eight witness statements," Solomon told them, approaching me.
"Stay there, buddy," said the first officer, raising his weapon. "How do we know you aren't one of the suspects?"
Solomon gave him a long, slow look. "How dumb do I look?"
"It's not him," I said, standing and walking towards them. I dropped my napkin statement onto the bar. "He's my boyfriend."
"And who are you?" asked the officer.
"Oh, please," said a voice behind them, "she's my sister."
"And mine," said another voice as Garrett, my oldest brother, stepped into view alongside Jord. "Did you know this was going to happen?" Garrett asked quietly as he stood next to me.
"Total coincidence, I swear," I told him, showing him both hands so he could see my fingers weren't crossed. I decided not to make a point of the suspicious note in Garrett's voice.
Garrett sighed. "You two better tell me what happened."
Jord picked up my napkin statement, skimming over it before passing it to Garrett. "Looks like another one of the bar and restaurant robberies," he said.
"We need to give these thefts a snappier name," Garrett replied . He turned, addressing the first responding officers. "Collect all the statements and make sure there aren't any injuries. I want the names of everyone here. I want to go through every witness statement. Jord, get crime scene down here to swab anything our perps touched and find the security tapes. This is a good system," he added, pointing to the discreet cameras above the bar. "Walk me through what was stolen," he added, turning to the manager.
"Hey, what about us?" I asked.
"You two, stay put," said Garrett, giving me a pointed look that warned we better not move. "I'll talk to you both soon."
"What he said," said Jord, pointing a finger at us both as he walked away, obeying Garrett's orders.
We had to wait quite a while for my brothers to return , and when they did, they didn't look happy. "The robbers cleaned out the safe and got around fifteen grand," Garrett told us. "Not big money, but not chump change either."
"This is a lot of effort for fifteen grand," said Solomon. "Actually, I take that back. This was a crappy execution of a theft. It was no better than a smash-and-grab."
" Except with a machine gun," I added.
"I'm inclined to agree," said Garrett, nodding. "The witness reports you had the diners write down corroborate the
"How do you know that?" yelled a man's voice from the back of the restaurant.
"They ran out the back and set off the alarm," yelled Solomon. "I secured the door and they can't re-enter."
"You can't be sure. They could come in the front," persisted the same voice.
"Listen for sirens and think about that," Solomon replied . The chorus of police sirens began to overtake the soft, piped music and the restaurant's own alarm. "Everyone pick up your napkins, grab a pen if you've got one, or borrow one, and write down what you saw. The police will be here in a few minutes, and the sooner you get your statements down, the better," Solomon ordered.
"The napkins are linen," sobbed the manager, his head in his hand s. "Brand new! From France!"
"Buy new ones," said Solomon. "Call it a ‘staying alive’ treat."
A s I dusted off my chair and sat, reaching for a pen in my purse and a dry napkin, it appeared that the other diners were simply too shocked to do anything but follow instructions. By the time MPD burst their way through the doors, the diners were calmly writing their observations.
"Don't panic!" yelled the first officer needlessly, drawing his weapon as he scoured the restaurant. "Where'd they go?"
"Gone," said Solomon, leaning against the bar.
"Thataway," added the manager, pointing to the rear corridor. "They made me empty the safe before they ran."
"Aww , man," said the second officer as he stowed his gun in his holster. "We missed it!"
"I got you thirty-eight witness statements," Solomon told them, approaching me.
"Stay there, buddy," said the first officer, raising his weapon. "How do we know you aren't one of the suspects?"
Solomon gave him a long, slow look. "How dumb do I look?"
"It's not him," I said, standing and walking towards them. I dropped my napkin statement onto the bar. "He's my boyfriend."
"And who are you?" asked the officer.
"Oh, please," said a voice behind them, "she's my sister."
"And mine," said another voice as Garrett, my oldest brother, stepped into view alongside Jord. "Did you know this was going to happen?" Garrett asked quietly as he stood next to me.
"Total coincidence, I swear," I told him, showing him both hands so he could see my fingers weren't crossed. I decided not to make a point of the suspicious note in Garrett's voice.
Garrett sighed. "You two better tell me what happened."
Jord picked up my napkin statement, skimming over it before passing it to Garrett. "Looks like another one of the bar and restaurant robberies," he said.
"We need to give these thefts a snappier name," Garrett replied . He turned, addressing the first responding officers. "Collect all the statements and make sure there aren't any injuries. I want the names of everyone here. I want to go through every witness statement. Jord, get crime scene down here to swab anything our perps touched and find the security tapes. This is a good system," he added, pointing to the discreet cameras above the bar. "Walk me through what was stolen," he added, turning to the manager.
"Hey, what about us?" I asked.
"You two, stay put," said Garrett, giving me a pointed look that warned we better not move. "I'll talk to you both soon."
"What he said," said Jord, pointing a finger at us both as he walked away, obeying Garrett's orders.
We had to wait quite a while for my brothers to return , and when they did, they didn't look happy. "The robbers cleaned out the safe and got around fifteen grand," Garrett told us. "Not big money, but not chump change either."
"This is a lot of effort for fifteen grand," said Solomon. "Actually, I take that back. This was a crappy execution of a theft. It was no better than a smash-and-grab."
" Except with a machine gun," I added.
"I'm inclined to agree," said Garrett, nodding. "The witness reports you had the diners write down corroborate the
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