The Café

David sat at a small table in the corner, as he silently sipped his espresso. It was a light brown in color, almost resembling the wet earth of the night outside. The rain showered unremittingly upon the roof of the coffee shop. Despite the frequent noise of thunder that furiously sliced through the tranquil night, David sat oblivious to his surroundings.

He held a small black notebook that appeared bizarrely tiny for his vast hands. He stood tall, of moderate build, and wore a thick, highly numbered, pair of glasses. His strange baby-face contrasted with his receding hairline, making it impossible to guess his age. He was well dressed in a black suit and tie, trousers, and a fine pair of polished black shoes. He was never someone who would stand out in a crowd. Even from far, one could notice that he was comfortable in his isolation, as he repetitively kept scribbling some notes into his tiny little book. He seemed to be always alone, but he was never lonely.

A pretty young waitress came by, offering a refill for his coffee. Her nametag read Andrea. He nodded unsmilingly at her and got back to his book. The shop had large windows facing towards the East. The kitchen and the serving counter of the shop lined up against the opposite wall. As the tiny droplets of rain silently fell upon the thin glass of the large windows, the white lights of the café powerfully illuminated the entire room, large yet contrarily quaint. The kitchen had closed some time back and only one waitress remained to take care of the shop. David’s beady eyes glanced in the direction of the red clock placed upon the counter. He was expecting someone.

Presently, a relatively smaller man dressed in a trench coat walked in. He wore a brown hat pulled over his head, effectively covering his face. He walked with a purpose and supreme confidence. Without a word, he glided to the corner and sat at David's table. He ordered a cappuccino with extra milk. The two talked to each other like they were old friends. The entire café was empty, except for their table.

Andrea sat at the counter reading the day's newspaper. She was engrossed in an article detailing the suspected involvement of the Mayor in a murder several years ago.

It was he who took the town to new heights in development and improvement. He rid the streets of all poverty and crime amongst the people and brought in prosperity and justice.

He had been as clean as a whistle during the two terms he served and had been re-elected for a third to extend his period to yet another term, as a divine and powerful Mayor. He was charismatic, pragmatic and a family man to the core of his heart, and yet, he had been accused for murder. The police searched for evidence but they did not seem to find any at all.

The Mayor was well respected throughout the city and this article had come as a strange shock to many of the citizens in the small town of Strasbourg. All their faith in him was lost.

The waitress glanced occasionally in the direction of the two remaining customers.
The article went on to allege that the Mayor paid off the only witness to the crime and thus the Mayor got away scot-free.

They called in for a refill. When she returned, she moved on to a second story, one that concerned her on a personal basis.

A string of assassinations had taken place over the last several years. The targets were mostly waiters and even some restaurant owners. The police blamed the higher mafias. They were known to demand bribes from various restaurants, and of late, the owners had become increasingly reluctant to pay up. As Andrea read this, she felt insecure and troubled.

‘Useless police,’ thought Andrea. ‘They blame the mafia for any crime that takes place.’
She wondered if the two stories were somehow linked.

David and the stranger were new and first time customers as far as Andrea could remember.

David was now more relaxed and talked to the stranger with more confidence. Their friendship began years back in a bar across town. He spoke with a low heavy voice, hushed and in whispers.

"Richard, I need help setting up my own business department," said David.

"I cannot keep supporting you. You must stop relying on me. One day, things should change. After a certain point, I won’t be there for you. How are you going to manage yourself then?" replied Richard. He had a soft voice, which was comfortingly familiar to anyone who heard it. He too, spoke in whispers.

"Things have not been the same since father passed away. You know that. I have been distressed lately. I need this," sighed David.

"All right, here," said Richard.

He handed him a small brown package. It was battered and dog-eared from its corners. David smiled contently.

It was nearing closing time. Andrea printed out the bill and went across to the table occupied by the only two customers of the evening. She noticed the brown packet.

"I've got this," said David. He tore open the little packet and pulled out a few bills from the thick, large bundle of notes inside.

Andrea took the money without asking any questions about the packet, and walked up to the cash counter. She popped open the register and took out the change. As she walked back to their table, she stopped dead in her tracks after what she saw. From the reflection through the large window she recognized the man with the brown hat.

Immediately, at that spur of the moment, David suspiciously walked out of the café, without taking the change.

Half an hour later, Mayor Richard Smith left the café, hands engulfed in blood.

The next morning's headlines read, "Another waitress found dead".