STATE OF ANGER: A Virgil Jones Mystery Series (Detective Virgil Jones Mystery Series Book 1) by Thomas Scott Page B
Authors: Thomas Scott
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shot before. Aren’t I supposed to feel something? I feel like I should be
upset. I mean more upset than I am. Is something wrong with me? Am I in shock
or something? Is this what shock feels like?” He sat with his elbows on the
table, the heels of his hands pressed into his forehead. His fingers worked
their way into his hairline and pulled his hair back taut. It gave him a
haunted, almost effeminate appearance. “You may very well be in shock,” Ron
said. “Do you feel like you require medical attention?”
He let go of his hair and
forehead. “No, no, I’m fucking good. Besides, I don’t have any insurance.”
“Just take us through it, from the
time she walked in the door until you saw her get hit. Take your time. Don’t
leave anything out,” Virgil said.
“I don’t know what to tell you. I
mean, there just isn’t anything to say. She came in, same time as she always
did, sat at the same table she always sits at, unless someone else is sitting
there, except they weren’t, so she did.” He pointed to the table in the opposite
corner of the cafe. “That table right there.”
“All right, that’s good,” Virgil
said. “Go on.”
“Well, like I said, there just
isn’t anything to say, really. She sat down, spread out her paperwork and
started doing whatever it is she did with it. The paperwork, I mean. I asked
her if she wanted her usual. She said yes, so I brought her a cup of our house
blend and a muffin. The muffin was on me. It wasn’t part of her usual. I just
wanted to give her a fucking muffin, you know? We made nice for a few minutes
and I got back to work. Before she left I asked her if she wanted anything
else. She says ‘no I’ve got to run. See you tomorrow though.’ I said something
like ‘you bet’ or whatever and then she walked out and I just happened to
glance up from behind the counter and I saw her flying backward through the
air. She hung there for a second, hell not even that long I guess, because you
know how everything seems like it’s going in slow-mo? Well, anyway she hung
there for a second in the shape of a big C, you know with her arms and legs
flying forward and her body going backwards. Anyways, that’s what it looked
like to me. A big C. It’s kind of ironic if you think about it, because that’s
what she always called cancer. The big C. Just like that series they’ve got on
Showtime. It’s called The Big C. Anyways...”
“And you didn’t hear any gunfire?”
Virgil said.
The waiter shook his head. “Nope.
Hell, it looked like she got hit by a huge gust of wind or something. It was
unreal. I didn’t know what the fuck was happening.”
“What about a car backfiring? Did
you hear anything like that? Some kind of noise that may have been a gunshot
but in the moment it just didn’t register?”
The waiter thought about it, but shook
his head. “Huh uh.”
“What did you do next?”
“What do you mean?”
Virgil tried not to let his
impatience show. “I mean, what was the very next thing you did. Did you call
911?”
“No.”
“Did you run outside to help the
victim?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I guess, I…well, what I mean is,
I just sort of froze. Besides, we’re not supposed to leave the cash drawer
unattended.”
“I see,” Virgil said, even though
he didn’t. “How much money was in the drawer?”
“I don’t keep an exact
accounting.”
“If you had to guess,” the
impatience in Virgil’s voice now obvious.
“Well if I had to guess, there
might be, I don’t know, seventy or eighty bucks in there or something like
that.”
Virgil leaned across the table.
“So a woman, a Hospice nurse, comes into your coffee shop damn near every day
of the week, sits at the same table, orders the same thing, then one day leaves
and gets shot to death right in front of your eyes and the only thing you could
think to do was guard the seventy or eighty bucks in the cash drawer?”
“Hey, man, come on. That’s a
little
shot before. Aren’t I supposed to feel something? I feel like I should be
upset. I mean more upset than I am. Is something wrong with me? Am I in shock
or something? Is this what shock feels like?” He sat with his elbows on the
table, the heels of his hands pressed into his forehead. His fingers worked
their way into his hairline and pulled his hair back taut. It gave him a
haunted, almost effeminate appearance. “You may very well be in shock,” Ron
said. “Do you feel like you require medical attention?”
He let go of his hair and
forehead. “No, no, I’m fucking good. Besides, I don’t have any insurance.”
“Just take us through it, from the
time she walked in the door until you saw her get hit. Take your time. Don’t
leave anything out,” Virgil said.
“I don’t know what to tell you. I
mean, there just isn’t anything to say. She came in, same time as she always
did, sat at the same table she always sits at, unless someone else is sitting
there, except they weren’t, so she did.” He pointed to the table in the opposite
corner of the cafe. “That table right there.”
“All right, that’s good,” Virgil
said. “Go on.”
“Well, like I said, there just
isn’t anything to say, really. She sat down, spread out her paperwork and
started doing whatever it is she did with it. The paperwork, I mean. I asked
her if she wanted her usual. She said yes, so I brought her a cup of our house
blend and a muffin. The muffin was on me. It wasn’t part of her usual. I just
wanted to give her a fucking muffin, you know? We made nice for a few minutes
and I got back to work. Before she left I asked her if she wanted anything
else. She says ‘no I’ve got to run. See you tomorrow though.’ I said something
like ‘you bet’ or whatever and then she walked out and I just happened to
glance up from behind the counter and I saw her flying backward through the
air. She hung there for a second, hell not even that long I guess, because you
know how everything seems like it’s going in slow-mo? Well, anyway she hung
there for a second in the shape of a big C, you know with her arms and legs
flying forward and her body going backwards. Anyways, that’s what it looked
like to me. A big C. It’s kind of ironic if you think about it, because that’s
what she always called cancer. The big C. Just like that series they’ve got on
Showtime. It’s called The Big C. Anyways...”
“And you didn’t hear any gunfire?”
Virgil said.
The waiter shook his head. “Nope.
Hell, it looked like she got hit by a huge gust of wind or something. It was
unreal. I didn’t know what the fuck was happening.”
“What about a car backfiring? Did
you hear anything like that? Some kind of noise that may have been a gunshot
but in the moment it just didn’t register?”
The waiter thought about it, but shook
his head. “Huh uh.”
“What did you do next?”
“What do you mean?”
Virgil tried not to let his
impatience show. “I mean, what was the very next thing you did. Did you call
911?”
“No.”
“Did you run outside to help the
victim?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I guess, I…well, what I mean is,
I just sort of froze. Besides, we’re not supposed to leave the cash drawer
unattended.”
“I see,” Virgil said, even though
he didn’t. “How much money was in the drawer?”
“I don’t keep an exact
accounting.”
“If you had to guess,” the
impatience in Virgil’s voice now obvious.
“Well if I had to guess, there
might be, I don’t know, seventy or eighty bucks in there or something like
that.”
Virgil leaned across the table.
“So a woman, a Hospice nurse, comes into your coffee shop damn near every day
of the week, sits at the same table, orders the same thing, then one day leaves
and gets shot to death right in front of your eyes and the only thing you could
think to do was guard the seventy or eighty bucks in the cash drawer?”
“Hey, man, come on. That’s a
little
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