Cheerleader v. Chef

The second death comes as less of a shock to the Cheerleader, but the two combined seem almost overwhelming. It was duty at first. Now, she contends, it borders on incivility.

Listen here, shouts Pepple. Maybe you don’t understand how I make my living.

The Cheerleader tries to keep him from searching the body of the Cheesemaker.

What in the name does this ex-man need those articles what are remaining upon his person? Pepple demands. You expect I should come here and do all your filthy work with a smile and glad hand and thank you ma’am without recompense?

The Cheerleader stands, arms crossed. Pepple turns and spits.

He drags off the body of the Cheesemaker, flips through his wallet, removes his silver wedding band, and dumps his thin corpse in the ditch.

When the Chef arrives the Cheerleader tells him about her concern.

Honey, he tells her, If you didn’t kill the Cheesemaker, he would have killed you.

The Cheerleader nods.

It’s hard, but you just have to take the bad with the gouda.

There’s a long pause. It lasts for over an hour.

They raise their guns. Their guns go off.