They were just walking down the street, coming back from the meeting at the town hall. It had been a rather dull affair, not much of any consequence was discussed. James and Pete were both neighbours and friends, so they often walked together when leaving the meetings.

As they neared their houses, a shady figure crossed their path. He turned in front of them and a pistol slipped from his coat pocket. He aimed it at James. Squeezed the trigger. James fell. Pete grabbed him despairingly, and looked up to find the assaillant gone.

James gripped Pete’s coat, and with his dying breaths, a last message slipped his lips:

“Tell my kids… to take dinner out of the oven at seven…”