Majoring in Murder

Chapter 28

The Friday before I was to meet with Carlo and Victor, I reassembled the rifle and worked the bolt back and forth in our room after Daniel had gone to lunch. I screwed the silencer onto the Beretta and inserted the clip. I jerked back the slide continuously, ejecting the live bullets to ensure a smooth operation. Checking my weapons so often may sound obsessive, but if there was one thing I wanted to be certain of, it was that they would work flawlessly when I needed them most.

Satisfied with their mechanical operation, I replaced them in the bag and stowed it on the floorboard of my car behind the driver's seat. Before leaving, I rubbed mud on my license plate to obscure the numbers. Maybe that was too cautious, but when preparing for what I had in mind, it gave me peace of mind. On my way home, I stopped by Lucky Chen's for another reconnaissance trip in case I needed to make any last-minute modifications to my plan. I carried the gym bag in with me and sat at a booth near the restroom hallway. I ordered another plate of chicken fried rice but skipped the soup that day.

After finishing most of the dish and downing my drink, I took up the gym bag and went to the restroom. I shut the door with my foot, slipped on some latex gloves, and engaged the small bolt lock so no one could barge in and interrupt me. I looked up at the stained ceiling tiles and flushed the toilet. The cinderblock wall formed a corner beside the toilet. I twisted the faucet's knob and let the water run in the sink to mask any sounds of me stepping up onto the toilet's rim. Sliding back a ceiling tile in the corner, I found that I could rest the gym bag on top of one of the drop ceiling's intersecting rails beside the brick wall. I stepped off the toilet seat, opened the bag, and wiped my prints from the guns in case anyone discovered them before my return. The bathroom was disgusting so I doubted anyone would stay to snoop beyond the tiles, but it paid to be cautious. I set the bag into position, balancing so that it straddled the crossbar, and replaced the tile. I turned off the water, unbolted the door, stuffed the gloves into my pocket, and returned to my seat.

The waitress arrived shortly after, filling my glass with more tea. She carried the plastic pitcher away and returned to remove my empty plate and silverware.

"You like everything?" she asked.

"Yes. It was very good, thanks."

She returned with a small plastic tray that held the bill and a fortune cookie. I smiled as she placed the bill on the table and I cracked opened the fortune cookie. Good things are in store for you soon, it read, which sure beat the alternative, That wasn't chicken. I laid a ten and five on the tray and went out to my car.