Emma was sitting in a small café where Stacey worked as a part time barista. She was scrolling through her phone, throwing subtle glances in Stacey's way.

Emma had looked her up on facebook and thought it was better to confront her at her place of work rather than at her house, keeping in mind her violent nature.

"A cinnamon topped medium cappuccino?" A waitress approached with her drink.

"Yes, thank you," said Emma.

"Do you want something else?" asked the waitress, placing the cappuccino in front of her.

"Could you please ask Stacey if she could spare me a few minutes?" asked Emma.

"Alright but I don't know if she will," the waitress replied.

"Tell her there's money involved," said Emma.

She saw the waitress go and speak a few words to Stacey who turned and threw her a hard glare. Then she nodded and started walking towards Emma.

"You want to talk to me?" She raised her eyebrow. He voice was raspy and her teeth stained. Emma could tell she smoked a lot.

"Hi, I'm Emma Dawson. I'm here to talk to you about your ex boyfriend, Max who was... um, who died a year ago. If you would be so kind to let me ask a few questions?"

"What about that asshole?" Stacey spat.

"I see you're over his death," Emma was a little taken aback.

"He was a damned cheater. I would have killed him if he hadn't beat me to it," she laughed gruffly.

"In my opinion, Max was murdered," Emma decided to be straightforward with her.

"He got what he deserved," Stacey laughed again.

"And that is your opinion?" Emma cocked her head.

"I didn't kill him, if that's what you're insinuating," Stacey growled.

"I'm not insinuating anything. But you could get yourself into trouble if you keep talking like that," Emma replied. "Not with me, of course. I believe you," Emma added.

"Who with then? I thought the case was closed," Stacey rasped.

"It's still officially closed. I came to talk to you so that I could uncover the truth behind his death," Emma explained.

"Why do you think he was murdered?"

"I have a hunch," Emma replied.

"What's in it for you?" Stacey asked suspiciously.

"I'm writing a newspaper column," Emma replied.

"Fancy," snorted Stacey.

"We all do what we gotta do, right?" replied Emma.

"Sure," Stacey rolled her eyes. "What do you want from me?"

"Are there any potential suspects in your mind?" asked Emma.

"If he was murdered I can tell you exactly what sweet son of a bitch did it," laughed Stacey.

"Who would that be?" Emma bent a little forward.

"His friend, whatever his name was. Hated my guts," Stacey laughed again.

"Jeff?"

"Yeah that little bitch."

"Why would you think he did it?" Emma asked.

"Because that asshole wanted to give up the drug business," Stacey scowled. "As if he was fit for anything else."

"Jeff?"

"No. Max. He's the asshole. Jeff is the bitch," Stacey explained.

Emma pursed up her lips, trying her best to not let her hatred for swearing show. "So Max wanted to give up his drug business and Jeff didn't want him to?" she asked.

"Not his drug business. He got the drugs from a dealer. Both of them were in on it together. They supplied it to kids in their school anonymously. Max decided to come clean about the whole deal to the police, and the little bitch started being a little bitch about it. Rightfully so. He didn't want to be put into juvie. I guess he finally lost it and killed him. Bet that slut put him up to it," sneered Stacey.

Emma took a deep breath. Stacey had a very confusing way of talking. "This new, uh, girl? Who's she again?"

"The slut Max cheated on me with," Stacey growled. "That prude asked Max to come clean and lead a new life."

"She could hardly be a slut and a prude at the same time," Emma wanted to say, but decided against.

"Did Max tell you that?" asked Emma.

"No, I'm just saying. On a second thought, that slut could have killed him too. That would have been hilarious," guffawed Stacey. "But I think it was Jeff."

"Or the drug dealer. I mean, he would have it far worse than a few years in juvie," said Emma.

"You don't know, do you?" Stacey looked weirdly at Emma.

Emma's stomach churned. "What don't I know?"

Stacey glanced sideways. "Don't tell this to anyone but," she whispered bending forwards. Emma could feel her nicotine breath on her face. "That little bitch killed the drug dealer's wife."

"Jeff?" Emma had to confirm.

"Yes," Stacey smirked.

"Why?" asked Emma.

"Because she was breaking up with him."

"With the drug dealer?"

"With Jeff! Keep up!" Stacey spat.

"Tell me the whole story," said Emma.

"So I and Max and Jeff and Beatrice were all having a good old drug date in an abandoned house. Beatrice and Jeff had a fight and she said she was going to break up with him. Jeff said he would tell her husband that she was cheating on him. She said she would tell him that he was assaulting her. And that her husband would kill him. Jeff got furious and he smashed her head open with a pipe."

"No swear words," Emma thought, impressed.

"We ran from there like a bunch of little bitches and never spoke of it again."

"Too soon," thought Emma.

"They found her body, but since she was a druggie they forgot about her eventually."
Emma nodded.

"You can't use any of this though. If my name comes up as an accomplice, I'll kill you. I'll burn you to death in my furnace," Stacey growled.

Chills ran down Emma's spine.

"You have a furnace?" she asked, looking nonchalant.

"Just in case," Stacey snickered. "Just in case."

"I shall keep that in mind," replied Emma. "Thank you for helping me out."

Stacey didn't move.

"Oh, right," Emma fumbled with her purse. She withdrew a couple of tens and placed them in Stacey's open palm.

Stacey threw her a glare.

Emma placed a few more tens.

Stacey smirked at her and left.

Emma's mind was a whirlwind. She wanted to write down all the information she had gained onto her diary. She waved to the waitress, placed a five onto the table and left.

The cappuccino, now cold and flat, stood forgotten to the side.

***

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