“Thanks, and I really appreciate what you’ve done tonight. You know how tough it is to make friends when you’ve spent time in prison. This means a lot to me.”
“Don’t think anything of it.” Quinton took another piece of pizza. “You know, you have to tell Thomas what a great cook he is. I swear this is the best pizza I’ve had. Listen, my hands are messy, could you get some napkins and maybe some beer?” He pointed to where the napkins were.
David Moss smiled as he fetched the beer, and then turned to where the napkins were supposed to be. It was then that he saw the bloody figure lying on the floor behind the counter. “Oh, sweet Jesus, oh God.” The panic in David Moss’s voice was more entertaining than his friend could have imagined.
There they were, one man standing in blood over the body, and his friend, holding up the bloody knife that had killed him. “Sit down, David Moss. Have some pizza. And open those beers, will ya? We obviously have some issues to discuss. I believe the finger prints on this beauty belong to you. Come on, let’s enjoy a great storm with beer and pizza, and a conversation that’s going to change your life.”
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