The fair-haired girl walked through the door and looked around. There was nothing special about her appearance which was why no one looked in her direction as she entered. The most anyone would say was that she was fair-haired, aside from that even Sherlock Holmes would have been hard pressed to give more of a description.
Even her name evoked no comment – Alice Mary Jones, named after her mother and her aunt. Her father, Nathan Jones, was hard working, but achieved very little in his short life of forty-three years, when he died crossing the street and getting hit by a taxi cab. Alice was eleven years old at the time and was then raised by the two women for whom she was named.
For the next six years her life went on in the same innocuous path – her appearance and her life presented an equally ordinary existence.
She took a seat in a booth in the far corner of the dines, out of the sight and hearing of the other customers, not that she said anything other than asking for scrambled eggs, white toast and coffee to the waitress.
Twenty minutes later she got up and walked to the cashier as if she was simply going to pay her check. She waited patiently for someone to come over to take the money she had laid on the counter. As soon as the cashier picked up the money and the cash drawer was open Alice Mary Jones took out a gun, shot the cashier, took the money from the drawer and ran out.
The stunned customers stared in disbelief.
The best anyone could tell the police was that she was a fair-haired girl.