She'd stolen from them. She took the bag of money, but she didn't body-bag the old broad they paid her to punish. She sat in the diner smoking her cigarette and stalking the senior waitress. The target looked worn, leathery, lost and lame. Donna couldn't figure out why anyone would pay so much to have this barely breathing, walking corpse put on ice. She wasn't about to find out either. She covered her harsh eyes with her smokey shades, walked out and hit the road.
She never said why she didn't waste that woman. Maybe she figured old age would finish the job. Perhaps the coffee was just too good. She might even have reminded Donna of Momma Lethal. The reason isn't important. Donna had to go, go, go. Donna couldn't afford a day off. Unfortunately this dame had a dreadful sense of direction. She zigged when she should have zagged. She was headed for Mexico but got pinched in Minnesota. She got picked up on July 10th, 1967 and was unaccounted for on the 11th. Did they take her? Did she disappear?
We'll probably never know. But, if you ever consume a cup of coffee in a dingy diner in the desert and come across a cold stare from a wily old waitress make sure you're kind and or cordial. It might just be Donna Lethal herself, dying to ply her prior trade one last time on a couple of unsuspecting, obnoxious patrons that had no idea who they were talking to.
Image taken from Lethal Dose.