Una anciana con un abrigo púrpura estaba en el escritorio de la anfitriona.
She leaned on a cane and was paying her bill.
Madison accepted her credit card.
But instead of immediately using the restaurant’s official payment terminal, she moved the card beneath the counter.
I caught a glimpse of a small black electronic device.
She passed the card through it before processing the payment normally.
The entire movement took only a moment.
Then Madison smiled.
“Thank you, Mrs. Pratt. Enjoy your afternoon.”
I recognized the behavior.
After nearly twenty years in restaurants, I’d attended numerous payment-security training sessions.
What I’d witnessed strongly suggested someone was secretly collecting customers’ card information.
Then I noticed Kyle glance toward Madison’s hands.
His expression changed.
“OUT!” he shouted.
He pushed me through the doorway.
I stumbled onto the sidewalk, landing on my knees and hands.
Through the glass, I heard him laugh.
