Standing in the Rain

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 Huddled under her brown overcoat, she shivered. Clinging to her camera, thankful for its waterproof case, she aimed and pointed it at the couple inside the Italian restaurant, their table helpfully positioned close to the gigantic windows. She grinned. It was so helpful being friends with the matitre d for these kinds of cases, her bread and butter – infidelity. There was always some suspicious wife at home, wanting someone to follow her husband around and figure out what he’d been up to. And this husband was a big fish – working in New York in the “Waste Management Business”, in this end of town, meant one thing. And it wasn’t waste management.

The streetlamp overhead provided a little light, but it was no match for the downpour cloaking all of Melanie’s senses. She breathed in the smell of wet leaves in the gutters, of rain on concrete, and the pleasant wafting scent of garlic and truffle oil melting over from the restaurant. Her tummy growled, she’d been standing here for hours, stamping her frozen feet. The things we do for cash. She hoisted her camera again, thankful for the addition of several strategically placed tealight candles in the restaurant. Duncan thought of everything.

As she focussed her camera, straining to get a good angle, she nearly yelped out loud as her marks’ date came into view. Melanie’s breath caught in her throat, eyes involuntarily widening, upper spine immediately unbearably stiff as her chest clamped down.

“Kate?”

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