“Good. It’s all here.” Thick fingered hands closed the lid to the cardboard banker’s box. “We don’t want any of those feds get’n at our crosswords.” A black walrus mustache bobbed up and down with his attempt at a grin.
“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” Donnie sat with his face buried in his hands.
“What are you talking about Donnie?” He turned around with the box in his thick fingers and stacked it on top of two identical boxes.
Donnie looked up from his trembling hands. “When I came in, I noticed four cars in the parking lot.” He looked through the window of the office. “Mine, yours, and I would only assume the owners of those two boxes.” Donnie slowly sat upright in the chair.
“Oh, Donnie. I always had you pegged as one of the smart ones.” The butt of his gun jutted from his jacket. “We all die at some time, Donnie.” He took a step towards Donnie. “It could be anything that gets ya.” His arm raised and a finger pointed at the door to an interior room of the office. “Go ahead and get in there with the rest of them in the conference room.” He waggled his finger towards the door.
With a pause Donnie rose unsteadily from the chair. He took four childlike steps towards the door.
“Go on. They’re wait’n.”
Donnie looked back at the walrus mustache. Then he turned and opened the door. He was dead before the popping sound of the gun could startle him. He fell face first on top of two bodies just like his.
The walrus mustache kicked Donnie’s feet out of the path of the door and closed it.