Page 111 - The Houseguest

on her part. 30 seconds was enough time for an accurate intramuscular injection.
There was a poorly lit alleyway that ran parallel to the side exit of the coffee shop. In the middle of this backstreet stood a brick stairway with metal railings that connected the side door exit of the shop. That door opened into a hallway leading straight into the kitchen, after bypassing the restrooms one by one. My previous inspections of the premises had uncovered a barely noticeable door to the right, just before reaching the restrooms. Behind it, a set of stairs leading directly to an old storage area and office space upstairs. It couldn’t have been designed any better to fit my plan.
I knew where the security cameras were positioned. I also knew exactly what to show them. I had bought a very unique watch using the credit card Brian was issued on my Amex account. It was a Rolex Submariner -- gold, black and unmistakable. I had gifted it to him to wish him well the first day of his new job. I bought it pre-owned for about $15K, and tonight I made sure to wear the matching one I owned.
Just before sunset, posing as a patron needing to use the facilities, I slipped through that side door unobserved and quietly climbed the staircase, my duffle bag in tow. The stairs creaked during my ascent, so I paused, waiting for any reaction from downstairs. All was quiet and I continued climbing until I reached the dark office space. It was there I dressed in my black attire for the evening’s events. I knew they closed at 11PM on Friday nights, along with every other detail about the close- up procedures. Most importantly, that Rachel was always the last to leave. My mind wandered as I waited, sensing the irony of when I used
111
The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life