The Five Fathoms was a nice restaurant. Things like this didn’t happen here. Sadly, there was no security officer on duty, not that it would have done much good anyway.
Kendra's eyes rounded, and she swallowed hard. I'm not going to lie, my heartbeat accelerated, too. Adrenaline rushed through me.
"Just stay cool," I said to her.
"I'm cool. I’m a fucking ice cube."
It wasn't the first time I’d seen dipshits like this do this kind of thing. We had trouble with a gang of thieves not too long ago that hit restaurants, collecting watches, jewelry, and wallets from patrons. I felt like they had all watched the same gangster movie and come up with the same idea. It was a quick way to make cash, no doubt about it. But they still had to fence the goods, and there was always the chance that they might run into someone like me.
The standard protocol in a situation like this was to let it play out. Don’t escalate. Jewelry can be replaced, people can’t.
I noted as much detail as I could about the thugs, but they both wore black balaclavas and sunglasses. Black pants, black long-sleeve shirts. No identifiable tattoos.
There could have been a getaway driver sitting in a car outside. I couldn’t really tell from where I was sitting.
Mr. Shotgun grabbed the cute hostess and marched her into the restaurant. “Get on the ground! Now!”
The terrified girl complied.
Mr. Shotgun aimed the shotgun at her back. “What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Lily,” she cried.
“How old are you?”
“17.” Her voice quaked.
“If anybody tries anything stupid, I’m going to blow Lily’s pretty little head clean off!” Mr. Shotgun shouted to the crowd.
Lily shrieked.
“You wouldn’t want me to do that, would you?”
Patrons looked on with mortified faces.
By that time, some of the kitchen staff hovered by the kitchen door, peering out over the floor of the restaurant.
Mr. Shotgun’s accomplice moved from table to table, collecting the loot. People complied, dumping in watches, necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and other items of value.
I unholstered my pistol and kept it at the ready.
The accomplice kept moving from table to table, drawing closer, filling up the bag of goodies.
My eyes scanned the restaurant, looking for anyone else who may have been carrying.
The bagman reached the table directly across from us. An elderly couple had been enjoying their meal. Now their eyes were wide and their faces filled with terror. The man put his watch and his wallet into the bag, then the thug demanded the woman's jewelry. She took off her diamond earrings and dropped them into the bag, but didn't take off the giant diamond on her finger.
"The ring. Put it in the bag!" the thug commanded. “Now!”
The woman glared at him. "Don't you have any common decency? My husband and I have been married for 50 years. I am not giving you this ring. It can’t be worth much."
The thug let the bag dangle from one hand and aimed a black semiautomatic pistol at her with the other. "Is it worth dying over, lady?"
"I have more money in my purse. Let me get it for you. Just please let me keep my ring.”
Her purse hung from the back of her chair. She pulled the expensive bag onto her lap, fumbled through it, then pulled out a can of pepper spray. Before the idiot knew what happened, she squirted him in the face.
The tangy smell of capsaicin filled the air. The minute the spray hit his eyes, his face tightened, and his eyes swelled. The gangster shrieked in agony, wiping his eyes, flailing about.
