But accusations were not convictions.
And Cole understood that better than most.
The three men sat in a booth.
"Coffee," Cole shouted.
Elias brought three cups.
"Food?"
Cole looked at the menu.
"What's cheap?"
"Everything."
Cole laughed.
His friends laughed with him.
Elias walked away.
For twenty minutes, nothing happened.
Then Cole noticed an old photograph hanging behind the counter.
It showed a group of motorcycle riders standing beside their bikes.
The photograph was decades old.
At the center stood a younger Elias.
Cole pointed.
"Hey, old man."
Elias stopped.
"Yes?"
"That's you?"
Elias looked at the photograph.
"Long time ago."
"You were a biker?"
"Something like that."
Cole grinned.
"What club?"
Elias said nothing.
That silence changed the atmosphere.
Cole stood.
He walked toward the photograph.
"What's wrong? Can't hear me?"
"I heard you."
"Then answer."
Elias turned back toward the coffee machine.
"Your food is getting cold."
Cole's smile disappeared.
His friends watched.
Something about the old man's calmness irritated him.
People usually became nervous when Cole raised his voice.
Elias didn't.
Cole reached over and knocked a cup from the counter.
It shattered on the floor.
Frank looked up.
Elias looked at the broken cup.