Poppy and Sesame Seed Bagels (pt 2)

10 years later

“...class of ‘89 reunion!”
As the familiar sounds of Cyni Lauper filled the gymnasium, Juan and his remaining classmates mingled. Relaxed by familiarity and alcohol, they didn’t see her untill it was too late. It was she who ruined bagels for many, up on state.
“All I can say to most of you fine young folk in here is ... poppy seed and sesame bagels.”
The anguished scream issued forth, rviallig even the craziest pitch slides of that crazy bint’s. Heads turned, the source located. Frances Gutherburg neé Pominour looked defiantly, angrily upward at the stage. She looked likely to jump up on stage to do many impolite and illegal things to the mad old woman. And many looked set to aid her. Eyes flashed, but none more than those of the mad old lady...

3 Weeks ago

“Detective Juan Pernyas to Commissioner Henry’s office please.” blared the intercom. Juan got up, wondering what happened this time. ‘No use in fretting about unknowns’ he thought to himself, assuming the cold, emotionless mask th at 5 years as a detective and six as a beat cop had cultivated.
“Comissioner?”
“Ah, Juan, take a seat, please. I have something to tell you.”
“Shit, its not my brother is it? Please God don’t tell me its my brother...”
“No, no Juan. A classmate of yours... one Francis Gutherburg. We found her dead in an alleyway. She had many pieces of chalk jammed down her throat, and her pockets andevery body cavity was stuffed with Poppy and Sesame seed bagels.”
Juan looked on with growing horror, but at the mention of the bagels his faced tightened, his eyes hardened, and he jumped to his feet.
“I’ll kill that crazy bitch!”
“No Juan, you won’t. You’ve been working very hard the last year, and I want you to take some time off while we bring justice to the killer.”
“Fine.”
Juan had agreed, but he never said anything about playing at vigilanteism. So he went home, but only to grab a revolver. He was going to kill that goddamn bitch.

And now, here he was, tied to a desk in a chair in a cave. As the old lady advanced menacingly, toward him, bagel on one hand, chalk in the other. As she got to within a meter of Juan. Then the wooden door in the cave burst open, a solitary figure was silhouetted in the doorway. A bang issued forth, the sound unmistakable to Juan - a 9 milimeter pistol. The lady’s head burst open in a mist of red, and she fell, holding still to her bagel and chalk.

2 weeks later

The mass of black cleared, moving to cars en masse, except one solitary figure. “You crazy bitch.” he intoned sharply, spitting near the grave. As he left, the sun glinted off the new marker, and a name was shown - Emiline Warner.