The Bromide brothers brunch and breakfast diner mystery

The Bromide brothers laughed
At the pensive pilates pilgrims with their
Noses in a magazine that celebrated
Numerous different uses of margarine.

The model's days were butter and slipped through
Her hands without looking backwards or sideways.
Always ahead, full of thoughts like butterflies,
Not margarine or magazines but sometimes magnificent.

The killer's days were numbered, one through six,
Just like his paintings of grim pilgrims
Browsing Bromide brothers brunch and breakfast menu's,
An interesting tableaux if not a pretty one.

And meanwhile, back at the branch office,
Inspector Spectre scratched his chin and his neuroses.
Alliteration goes a long way he thought to himself,
The defective detective of destructive directives.