Guns

The diner is all aluminum and glass, there are steps on either side of a small entrance cubicle. He chooses the steps on the right, closest to where Jeanine is waiting in the red Pinto. He opens the entrance door and sees first a telephone on the wall opposite and then the cigarette machine, and then another glass door leading into the main body of the diner. The place is air-conditioned, a wave of cool air rushes out at him as he opens the door and steps from the entrance cubicle into the diner, as though he is moving from some sort of decompression chamber. Inside the diner, directly to the right of the entrance door, is the cash register. He walks past it without seeming to give it a second glance.

There are booths on the front wall of the diner, on either side of the entrance door. Red leatherette. Directly opposite the entrance door, running along the rear of the diner, is the counter, red leatherette stools ranged in front of it, mirror behind it. Pair of burly truck drivers at one end of the counter, both of them trying to make time with a skinny brunette waitress in a white uniform. Other end of the counter, guy in blue pants and shirt, probably the driver of the smaller truck outside. In the booths, four couples, two of them with children. Colley takes a seat at the counter. The cash register is directly behind him, he can see it in the mirror and he can hear the cashier talking into the telephone that rests on one end of the counter enclosing her space. She is talking to someone who is probably her husband. She is telling him how to work the oven so that it will clean itself. She is instructing him as to which knobs to turn and which buttons to push and which switches to activate. She speaks in a high whiny nasal voice and her instructions are impatient, as though she is talking to someone with either a very low I.Q. or very poor finger dexterity. Colley dislikes her at once. It will be a pleasure to shove the Walther P-38 in her face.

The brunette waitress knows Colley has taken a stool at the counter, but she is in the middle of a story to the two horny truck drivers, and she is not about to let a customer intrude on her private life. She finishes the story and both truck drivers burst out laughing and she stands there grinning at them, basking in the accolade of their laughter. Then she nods, having just played the Palladium to thunderous applause, and still grinning, walks to where Colley is sitting midway down the counter, his back to the cash register. On the telephone, the cashier is asking the dummy on the other end whether he understood the part about locking the oven, he has to make sure the oven is locked.

“Good afternoon, sir,” the waitress says.

“Good afternoon,” Colley says.

“Care to see a menu?”

“Please,” he says.

He has no intention of doing the job while there are three truck drivers in the place, especially when two of them have been coming on with the scrawny brunette. All he needs is a pair of guys trying to show off for a girl, maybe making a grab for the gun when he shoves it in the cashier’s face. He’s not worried about the couples sitting in the booths. The two couples with children are just going to sit there and hope nobody in the family gets hurt, and the other two couples are an old man and his wife sitting in the booth closest to the register, and further down the aisle a teenage kid and his girl. Colley is only worried about the truck drivers. Not so much about the one sitting alone at the counter; he’ll probably mind his own business once the gun comes out. But those other two still laughing at the joke the waitress told.

The waitress puts a menu on the counter in front of Colley, and then sets down a glass of water and a paper napkin and utensils, and then hurries on down the counter to where her enthralled audience is waiting. She leans close to the one sitting at the very end of the counter, big guy wearing a hat with some kind of button on it, and she whispers something to him, and the guy bursts out laughing, and the other guy says, “What? What’d she say?” and she whispers it all over again to him, and he starts laughing too. Then he stands up and stretches and Colley thinks he’s about to leave, but instead he heads for the men’s room. The minute he’s gone, the one with the button on his hat engages the waitress in some serious whispered conversation.

Another waitress comes out of the kitchen. She’s a country girl, plain face, straight brown hair, thick figure. She comes through the break in the counter on Colley’s left and carries a loaded tray to where the old man and his wife are sitting in the booth closest to the cashier. She takes eggs off the tray, and a plate of toast, and two cups of coffee, and she asks the old man if there will be anything else. The old man looks at the food and then asks if she has any jam or marmalade. The waitress says she’ll get some, and comes back through the break in the counter again and gets the marmalade and the jam from a shelf under the counter, and comes past Colley again and says to the old man, chirpily, “There you are, sir.” The old man thanks her. He’s a big guy, must have been a powerhouse when he was young, broad shoulders, thick chest, huge hands. His hair is white now, and he’s wearing eyeglasses, and his hands shake a little when he picks up his food. Down the counter, the third truck driver calls for his check, and the country-girl waitress brings it to him. Good, Colley thinks. Now let’s get rid of the other two.