"Butchers we are, that is true," the large bald man said with a bow. He seemed proud of his work. He was not a butcher in the normal sense. No he didn't cut up cows, pigs and chicken. Instead he butchered human bodies. He didn't typically kill them himself, but he would dispose of them. Cut them up well, mix them in with other animals, grind it up and sell them as sausage. It was how he made his living. It was how he kept his crew paid.
The unlucky man in the chair was William Edwards. He served in the Gulf War as well as the Vietnam War. He hasn't been on active duty in a few years. He was married to Beth in 1982. He gets to work at 6:30am. None of this mattered anymore. He had fallen in with the wrong people. Thought some mafia work would be a great way to make some money. A fast and easy security job.
Things didn't work out that way for William. Instead he didn't have the heart to pull the trigger when the time came. A few thousand dollars, that was what his life was worth. He just had to drive a bag of money to the other side of town. When they approached his car at a red light, he did the smart thing. He handed over the money and continued living. That came back to haunt him. Now he's sitting in front of the butcher. There isn't much he can do now to get out of it. It's unfortunate that Beth will never know what happened to him. She'll have her theory and never visit the local butcher again. The theory will be correct, but she'll never know for sure.
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