Accidents Do Happen

Accidents Do Happen

"Do you mind if I use the toilet?" he asked, "This damn coffee goes right through me."

"Naw, go ahead." Tony laughed. "Just don't fall in."

As the man rose from the table, Tony gave a slight nod to the largest of the goons shadowing their table.

Fifteen minutes ticked by as Mr. Giacalone finished his pie and called for a refill of his coffee, impatiently checking his watch. At another nod, the goon promptly kicked the restroom door open with a crash. Surveying the empty room, he dashed back out and through the restaurant, quickly searching up and down the street, before going back inside.

"Boss, he flew the coop." The out of breath goon, gasped. "Harry, Vinnie, let's go!"

A quarter of a mile away, Marge and Bob Travers were bickering in their car as they made plans for their week in Detroit.

"I don't care what you say." Marge grumbled. "I'm not spending the week cooped up in a hotel while you party at the convention!"

"Now honey." Bob turned with a smile. "There should be lots of shops for you to go to."

Neither of them noticed the desperate man trying to flag them down. The car didn't sustain much damage as it clipped the dark figure, spinning him into the deep ditch.

"What was that?" Marge gasped. "Bob, did you hit a dog or something?"

Quickly checking the mirror, Bob saw no sign of anything. "Relax babe." He smiled. "We'll be in Detroit shortly. God, I could use a drink!"

The body of Jimmy Hoffa came to a rest at the bottom of the culvert ditch, his lifeless eyes staring into the July sun.

Two hours later, the road crew finished lowering the culverts in place before the bulldozer pushed in the dirt.