Chapter 3 - The Code of Silence
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The Route 17 Diner smelled of burnt coffee, copper blood, and raw fear. Jimmy Alvarez slowly raised his head from behind the flat-top grill, clutching his metal spatula like a makeshift weapon. He looked at the three thugs groaning on the floor, then at Matteo, who was gently wrapping his charcoal jacket around Lena’s trembling shoulders.
“Jimmy,” Matteo said, his voice returning to its normal, quiet cadence.
Jimmy flinched. “Yeah. Yeah, Mr. Rossi?”
It was the first time in three years Jimmy had used Matteo’s last name. He had always just been "Matt," the quiet guy who tipped well and drank his coffee black. But looking at the brutal efficiency of the violence on the floor, Jimmy realized he had been serving pancakes to a ghost.
“Lock the front door,” Matteo instructed. “Turn the neon open sign off.”
Jimmy didn't argue. He hurried to the front, flipping the deadbolt and pulling the chain on the neon sign. The diner plunged into a dimmer, shadowy light.
Matteo walked over to booth three. Old Mrs. Patterson was shaking in her vinyl seat, her crossword puzzle soaked in spilled water. Matteo pulled a crisp hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and placed it gently on the table.
“I apologize for ruining your evening, Mrs. Patterson,” Matteo said softly. “You didn't see anything tonight, did you?”
The old woman stared at the money, then at the blood on the floor, and finally at Matteo’s dark, unreadable eyes. She swallowed hard and shook her head.
“Just three loud drunks who slipped on the wet floor and decided to leave,” she whispered, sliding the hundred-dollar bill into her purse.
Matteo gave a small, respectful nod. He turned back to the thugs. The leader was clutching his broken arm, his face pale and covered in cold sweat. Matteo walked over and crouched beside him, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Who do you work for?” Matteo asked.
The leader spat blood onto the floor. “Go to hell. You're a dead man. You don't know who you just messed with.”
Matteo sighed. It was the tired sigh of a man who had heard the same empty threat a thousand times in a previous life. He reached out and pressed his thumb directly into the compound fracture of the leader’s broken arm.
May you like
The man let out a blood-curdling scream, his eyes rolling back in his head.
“I'll ask one more time,” Matteo whispered, leaning in so only the leader could hear him. “Who sent you into my neighborhood?”
