After leading the police to the storage locker and ensuring everyone was safe, Vera walked purposefully back to the diner in a futile effort to combat the consistent throbbing in her head. Upon entering the diner, Happy quickly moved from the kitchen to the change counter and began berating her over her two and a half missed shifts. Vera yelled back that she had been taken hostage not once, but twice - including by a very well-armed, corrupt policeman - and she would've been happy to bring the machine gun into the diner as proof, but was denied the opportunity by a truculent but well-meaning former policeman. Happy countered that was VERY LIKELY the worst excuse he'd ever heard and would've fired her on the spot if she weren't also the accountant and executive chef. When Detective Novak and a few officers stopped by later to corroborate details from her kidnappings, Happy grudgingly decided to give her the rest of the day - and the two following days - off with pay.
The following morning, the three friends gathered at the diner. They decided to wait until mid-morning so they could all rest appropriately to compare notes on recent events.
Vera was hunched over their normal booth, shoulders squeezed closely together. She was still bleary-eyed from the previous days' activities and was enjoying the spirit of rejuvenation through the simple act of sipping her coffee.
"So, he killed both of them? That seems a little excessive," she pondered aloud.
"Killing one of them would have been sufficient?" Spinoza countered.
"No," she drew the word out before pausing, "well, maybe. I mean given the circumstances."
"Which murder would've made sense?" Spinoza perked up, eager to follow her logic into the dark corners of her mind.
"Certainly Bellucci. He presented to the biggest risk to Murphy."
"But he wouldn't have needed to kill Bellucci if he hadn't killed Snell. There would've been no need for a cover-up."
Vera took a long slow, sip of her coffee, as though she were percolating the concoction anew. "Like I said, given the circumstances," she gave her already hunched shoulders a further shrug and sipped again. "I'm still unclear - why did he kill Snell?"
Tannehill chimed in, "He thought that Snell had a change of heart about sharing the stolen property with him. He also thought that Snell was toying with him by not telling him about his change of heart."
"Seems a bit impulsive."
Tannehill glared at her with a dull expression. "This is a man who killed two people and was likely seconds away from killing four more."
"Fair point. But what did exactly did Snell do to anger him and why did he think Snell was making a fool of him?"
"That's Otto's fault."
"Otto?"
"Yes, Otto of the instant headache. Otto, who likes to lie in wait for his victim and brain them from behind."
"I'm still not sure that I follow."
"When Otto paid me a visit at my office, he ambushed me from behind my door and hit me over the head. After I was able to subdue him, he started rambling about how Snell wouldn't tell him where their stolen items were. But I don't think the issue was that Snell wouldn't tell him. It's that he couldn't. Otto had used the same technique to surprise Snell as he used on me, except I think he landed a much better blow on him, which knocked him silly."
"Oh," recognition dawned in Vera's eyes.
"Once Otto paid Snell a visit, Murphy followed shortly thereafter for his own têt-a-têt. It's highly likely that Snell was still wandering around the room in a confused state. Murphy - not the most forgiving judge of men's intentions even under the best of conditions - assumed that Snell was playing him for a fool rather than merely speaking nonsense. The idea of losing out on a fortune and simultaneously being mocked for it drove Murphy over the edge."
"Pretty scary that he's got such a hair-trigger."
"I'd say that mercifully for Snell, he probably never understood what was happening to him, so he didn't suffer much, even after the beatings he received from Otto and, presumably, Murphy."
At this point, Happy appeared at the booth with three plates of hamburgers in hand. He distributed them curtly, making a point of letting the plates clatter on the tabletop as random fries scattered to freedom from their plates. He walked away mumbling something along the lines of "it's too early in the day for hamburgers." Vera thought about responding, but, instead reached for the bottle of ketchup abutting the window, happy to have someone simply grouse about her meal choice rather than try and kill her.
"And Bellucci?"
"It's like Murph said - he got Bellucci to take the fall for Snell's murder. Bellucci probably assumed at first that Murphy would be able to get him off with a lesser charge, and his short time spent in prison would be worth the wait for his cut of the loot. But, it must have dawned on him how egregious the crime actually was and what he was really facing. His problem at that point was that he began to think out loud. Capital City's police can be corrupt, but they can't permit an open admission of one of their own committing a murder in cold blood, so Murphy felt he needed to shut him up."
"What about Beederman?" A teardrop of ketchup smeared the corner of her mouth as she spoke, hungrily shoveling in fry after fry. "I mean, what about the name Beederman?"
Spinoza swiped a fry from her plate and dipped it in a large dollop of ketchup. Vera looked incredulously at the stack of fries on his plate and back at the dwindling supply on her own. "Otto confirmed," he said, finishing his pilfered prize, "they chose the name because they thought they'd be able to play off the sympathies of Jewish buyers and up the price."
"Noble," Vera responded laconically, simultaneously annoyed at such a crass plan and her stolen food. "What about our dear couple? What happened to them?"
Spinoza began to dig into his own tranch of spuds, one hand carefully wrapped around the plate guarding it against potential retaliation. "Considering they were mostly guilty of incompetence as far as the US government is concerned, they received some leniency. The Feds are repatriating Emily back to England and letting Otto tag along so they can use them as low-level intelligence agents against their former employers."
"Can't wait to see the treasure trove of valuable information that will yield. And the treasure itself?"
Spinoza sighed. "There's no chance of repatriating the items to the rightful owners, so the police department is looking for local Jewish buyers to ensure that history doesn't stray too far from the community. Proceeds will go to local soup kitchens."
"And the recovered cash?"
"Soup kitchens."
"That's surprisingly noble for any municipal entity of Capital City."
"Like I said," Tannehill croaked, "Novak may be a jackass, but he's got a strong sense of honor."
"All's well that ends well, I guess," Spinoza spoke quietly, more focused on his hamburger than on further details of the investigation. The other two followed his lead in momentary silence. Outside a light drizzle began to slicken the city's streets.
[Author's Note: The End? Not quite. Now I can definitely say there are still two more chapters left. Today's chapter is 1227 words. The book is still running at 54318 words.]
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