* * *
2:00 pm Monday
“Darling, David! So glad you are here.” The high-pitched squeal of an Italian voice burned the ears of David and of the three bodyguards surrounding a teenage girl sitting in the only chair in the room.
“You must be Miss Wildflower,” David muttered stiffly.
“Yes, but we both know you can call me Boss,” she smirked. “Now, are you ready to help me take down my father?”
“And if I agree to this, how would you even ‘take down’ your father? He is the most popular art dealer in the entire world.”
“We’ll set him up for failure.” She stood up and walked to David. “Did you bring it? Did you bring the paintbrush?”
“Yes, I brought it,” David muttered. He pulled the paintbrush from his pocket and held it up. “What’s so special about it? Apart from the bristles’ being green.”
“It is made from the stems of wildflowers that I found in an abandoned—how you Americans say—theme park.” She took the brush and twirled it in front of her face, admiring its horrible beauty.
“That’s impossible.” David scoffed. “You can’t make a paintbrush out of a flower.”
“And yet, Mister Setter, I have.” She handed him the brush and smiled. “Now let us stop debating what is and is not possible and get down to the plan to overthrow my father.” She sat in the chair as delicately as the flower of her name.
“How can she be so bitter at so young an age?” David thought to himself.
“You are to paint a forgery. You will paint Da Vinci’s The Last Supper flawlessly. But you shall paint it over a portrait of this wildflower. You will be painting this under The Last Supper.” She held out a manila envelope that reminded David of a story he had written in a creative writing class. The boy looked at the picture as the young girl continued, “The wildflower must be painted with the paintbrush I sent you, but you may use the normal brushes for The Last Supper.”
“Hold on, Miss Wildflower. Why on earth would I do anything of this sort?” David cocked an eyebrow in the girl’s direction.
“I knew you would say this. That is why I prepared this question as an answer. David, are you a religious man?”
David’s blood ran cold. His heartbeat quickened. He nervously glanced at the bodyguards and noticed the bumps on the inside of their suit sleeves signifying the hidden guns. “Oh no. She’s going to kill me if I don’t do this.” David’s eyes widened as Wildflower nodded at one of her guards.
* * *
4:00 pm Monday
Richard Beck walked through the harrowing halls of the abandoned dorm. “What number was that room again? Oh yes, Room 228.” Slivers of ice slid down the college student’s back. He hated coming here alone.
There was the door. “Come on, Beck, just open it.” The hinges creaked and made Richard wince and tense his muscles for a fight.
“You must be Richard,” said an unfamiliar voice.
“W-who are you?” Richard stumbled over his speech in nervousness and fear. “D-did David send you? Is this some stupid prank?”
“This is no prank, Richard. Your friend David must live. And Wildflower will kill him if he doesn’t do her dirty work. I came of my own volition.”
“Wait, just stop.” Richard held up his hand. “Who is Wildflower? Why does she need David? And why do you need me?”
“For David to work for her he must have a reason. And she is motivating him with threatening your life: the life of his best friend. But she cannot threaten him and he will not work if you are already dead. I am a double agent, spying on Wildflower for the Italian government, and you Richard Beck must die.”
Richard shivered and tried to take in the information he was just given. He felt that all of his hope had been wrenched from his hands at the hands of this man’s voice. “I don’t understand.” Richard choked out.
“Don’t worry. It will be painless.” The door slammed shut and silence enveloped the cobweb-covered dorm room.
“Why? Why does this have to happen?”
“Because someone must die, and it can’t be David.”
Richard felt a sudden pain, and his body started to fight against itself to survive. He watched a red puddle form at his feet and then the ground met him like a forceful punch in the face.
Just before the blur of the world he called home disappeared forever, the man leaned down and whispered three words.
“Resto nella pace.”
* * *
6:00 pm Monday
Cathy snuggled into the black leather couch and under the worn blanket her grandmother had made her years ago. The sun was setting outside the bay windows to her left and Van Gogh’s Café at Night reflected little rays of sharp sunshine onto the stone fireplace. She looked at the crumpled, blank envelope and shoved it to the bottom of the lab reports she had to grade before the next morning.
The girls were upstairs talking and giggling and watching movies like they did almost every night after they finished their homework.
Steve walked into the room and handed her a carton of Ben and Jerry’s Chubby Hubby and a spoon. He kissed her on the cheek and moved to the newspaper next to his favorite recliner.
“Hey, Hon, what movies are out? Maybe we could take the girls out for a movie night this weekend.”
“Why don’t you four go see Pride and Prejudice? And I’ll find something else to watch,” Steve replied behind the black-and-white screen of his newspaper.
“But maybe you’ll like it!” Cathy smiled down at her papers. “Jane Austen was a phenomenal author and the storyline is brilliant.”
“I’ll see how I feel about it on Sunday night, Sweetheart.”
Cathy cheered at the open newspaper in the recliner, masking her husband’s face. She knew that he was smiling and that he would watch the chick flick for her…he would move the moon for her if she asked him to.
Ten minutes passed and the lab reports were marked and bloody from her red ink pen; who knew that writing about dissecting a fetal pig was so awfully hard—and she was only half way through the stack!
“I give up. I’m going to pick these back up early in the morning and get to that other thing,” Cathy muttered to herself as she tossed the labs away and picked up the crinkled envelope. She broke a seal and her brow furrowed. She gasped and Steve’s newspaper folded down to show his concern.
“Darling, look at this. Can you make any sense of it?” Cathy thrust the letter toward Steve.
He read it aloud.
“Dear Mom and Dad,
Here is the money for buying that house you’ve always wanted. I’ll send more later for all the other things you guys have wanted and needed. I’ll have too much to keep to myself by the end of the month.
Love, David.”
Steve glanced at Cathy as she opened the envelope again to reveal a thick stack of one-hundred-dollar bills.
“Where?” Cathy stuttered, “How did he…? W-why does David have this much money?” The woman finally overcame her disbelief to as the question shakily.
He went to art school. Not many art students get this much money. It doesn’t make sense,” Steve muttered.
“We need to call someone.”
As if on cue, the phone rang, and Cathy jumped in surprise. Steve answered it. “Yes, this is he… No. Yes, I know of him. Yes, David is my son and Richard Beck’s roommate. Yes, sir, we’ll be right there.”
Steve set the phone down and slowly looked up at his wife. He moved slowly as if his mind was in another world; which it was, and he was fighting to bring it back to the happy world of his home and out of the cold, real world. “Cathy, David’s roommate was murdered earlier this afternoon. The police are asking us to identify the body.”
* * *
8:00pm Monday
Cathy Setter stood in the police station with her husband. “How could someone do this?” she said quietly. They stared at the photograph of Richard’s body. The body had never been found; the picture was handed in anonymously. “His parent’s don’t even get to see his body.” She was thinking aloud now; she always did this when she was distressed.
A woman walked in. “Hello, my name is Molly. I’m the receptionist that opened the anonymous tip. I just wanted you to see this before you leave.” She was quite young and her accent was thick British. She handed a crumpled flower to them.
“A flower?” Steve looked incredulously at Molly. “We aren’t the boy’s parent, but if we were, this is quite pathetic.”
“Wait, Steve,” Cathy interrupted his rant. “It’s a wildflower. Excuse me, Molly. Was this with the tip?” She examined the flower under the fluorescent lighting.
“Yes, yes it was,” the girl stuttered nervously.
“Thank you so very much.” Cathy smiled sadly as Molly walked out. “Steve, David used to get nervous every time we mentioned flowers of any kind. Do you remember the time last month when the girls came home with wildflowers from the park and David got angry for no reason and tore them up? Could this be connected?”
“It… You’re crazy.” Steve stopped when he saw the hurt look on his wife’s face. “It’s just a coincidence is what I mean. I didn’t mean you are crazy. I’m sorry. I mean the whole situation is crazy.”
“No, no. I understand that you’re as bothered about this as I am. I just wish we knew what David did to get all wrapped up in something like this.”
The couple slowly sauntered through the icy halls of indifferent and busy officers. They glanced left and right, watching as people rushed by with grim faces.
All of a sudden a teenage girl rushed past them, accidently knocking both Cathy and Steve aside and piquing their curiosity.
A boy about the same age as the girl walked up. He had bright green eyes, and his jet-black hair was disheveled. “Terribly sorry. She’s quite a spitfire when she is fighting for a case. I’m Leopold, by the way. Again, I’m sorry about my friend.” Cathy and Steve followed the girl and Leopold straight into the office of the police captain.
“Mayeski, why didn’t you give me this case? I’m a detective for the sake of all things holy! And I have a migraine from the ninth ring of…” The girl stopped and blushed as she noticed the couple watching from just inside the door. “Great! A crowd: just what I need.” The girl’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Anyway, why didn’t I get the case? It’s a murder; that’s right up my alley.”
“What are you talking about, Little Girl? You’re barely fourteen,” Steve asked.
Leopold silently shook his head from his perch in the corner of the room. “Oh, this is about to get interesting.”
“Why do people always think I’m so young? I’m just shy of eighteen, actually, and I have a name.” She walked to the door and horse-collared a passing officer and stood him still. Her pupils shrank as she concentrated, and she spoke more quickly than before. “This is Agent Collins. He is just shy of thirty, with a perfect wife and two lovely children…and ooh, one on the way. Congratulations, Sir. Apart from that, he has an inferior education, simple high school graduate; he was the jokester. And one of those boys who made fun of the smart girls like me; oh joy. Anyway, he has only been here a short time of seventy-two hours, shown by the only slight-grey circles under the eye. Thus proving, I think I know what I am talking about, Sir.” She smiled at Steve with unconvincing joy and all the confidence of the world.
“My wife isn’t pregnant,” Collins argued and pulled out a phone with a permitting nod from Captain Mayeski.
“Within a few moments, we’ll know the verdict.” The girl looked to the Captain. Her hair was thrown into a high, messy bun and there were black circles of unrest under her eyes.
“Good, God. She’s right,” mused the officer and hurried away in a happy panic after startling the tired girl with a hug.
“She probably read his file. This proves nothing,” Steve countered in the hostile tone that he is subject to when distress arises.
Leopold chuckled at Steve, earning a perilous look from the Captain and a small smile from the girl.
The captain opened a grey file cabinet and pulled out a thick file. “Mister Setter, I usually don’t side with Miss Kobold here: and I especially object to showing off in this station. But for the good of our officers we keep detailed files on our staff, and run multiple background checks. If anyone from this station so much as spits, we know about it.” Cathy smiled as both Miss Kobold and Leopold spat into the trashcan next to the desk. Their eyes were merry and daring. “So where does it say that Collins has a pregnant wife?” The captain handed over the file and Steve rifled through it.
Cathy glanced over her husband’s shoulder and saw no sign of the information sought for. The girl was sitting in the office chair with her eyes closed and her head laid back against the wall behind her. “Miss Kobold; was it?” Cathy asked shyly. “How did you know?”
The girl’s eyes stayed closed and a sweet smile appeared on her tired face. “It was a shot in the dark. There is a vomit stain on his shoe. Any other person—aside from a wife and mother—in a family is usually being tended to by the mother when vomiting; am I right?” One of Kobold’s eyes opened momentarily as Cathy thought and nodded and the bright eye closed once more. “And furthermore, if there had been a sickness or disease in the Collins family, I doubt highly that he would be here when he has a perfect wife and two darling children to take care of at home. Thus, the early stage of pregnancy was the solution, considering morning sickness and all.” She opened her eyes and genuinely smiled at Steve. “And I was right.”
“Oh,” Cathy whispered. The room was quiet for several minutes. Cathy’s mind wandered and she broke the silence. “If only we knew where Richard’s poor body was.” With the last word, Cathy threw the wretched flower onto the desk.
“Sweet Lord, have mercy!” Miss Kobold exclaimed. “Where on Earth did you get that?” The girl shrank back from the flower as if it would burn her, and she stared at Cathy with her eyes wide open. The girl trembled unnoticeably, as if she was seeing something supernatural.
“It was found with the body,” the captain explained as the brilliant girl stood and started pacing feverishly. “Do you know what it is, Kobold?”
“It is an insult to the highest degree, Mayeski. She is taunting, trying to lure me out with a simple business card.” The girl growled and started quietly muttering to herself.
“Excuse my friend, “Leopold interceded. “She is a bit dramatic at times.”
“Who has a flower as a business card?” Steve interrupted.
The girl froze and stared at him with fear in her eyes, “An Italian assassin.”
* * *
David winced as the guard pulled something out of the breast pocket of his jacket. Wildflower giggled as David gasped. It wasn’t a gun; it was a black and white Polaroid. The third guard answered his ringing telephone. A familiar face was imprinted onto the insides of David’s eyelids. Memories of the last few years of college life flashed through his mind. Not the brother he had never had. Not Richard.
“We know you are a praying man, David Setter. But is your friend Richard Be…” one of the guards leaned down and whispered something to Wildflower. The girl screamed and stood. Slapping the guard who had spoken, she growled something in Italian. The guard and her had an entire conversation, glancing back at David every once in a while.
“Fine, fine. Giuseppe, put the picture away. Giovanni, find the other pictures. And you, Giorgio,” she said to the third guard, “Go away. Now.” She pointed to the door. Wildflower turned back to David and spoke, “My first plan to motivate hit a—how you say—speed bump but not to fear. I have another plan.”
The angry girl took the photos from Giovanni and handed them to David, “If you do not do this job for me. These people will suffer.”
David took the photos and looked over them. Each face rocked David to the core. He willed himself to stay calm, but he knew he could not stay this way for long. His family was on the line: his parents and two of his sisters.
“Oh, and David. Your oldest sister is on the list too, but we couldn’t find an acceptable picture of her.”
“Hailey was always camera-shy,” David muttered. “I’ll do it. For their sake. But what about Richard?”
“Ha! He has another two parties fighting over his life now.”
“What do you mean?”
“You will be shipped to Italia on the morrow and you will have your very own studio.”
* * *
“Wildflower is a spoiled brat of a teenage girl,” mused Miss Kobold. “She is the daughter of a rich, Italian art dealer. She claims to be adopted, that is the fire that she kindles, and which causes her to find hatred for everything in the world. She has committed hundreds of crimes, but not one of them has ever been traced back to her. Wildflower is my archenemy. Captain, I need this case.”
“You don’t have it,” someone chanted from the doorway, “You’re just a consulting detective and we don’t hire the wretched homeless to solve cases.”
Miss Kobold glanced to her friend in the corner of the room and zeroed in on the man in the door. “I’ll have you know!” the girl started to yell at the rude man.
“Stop Kobold,” blurted Leopold, grabbing hold of the girl’s arm. “Agent Rodney, is it? You aren’t in charge of the accounts, so how would you know how much money there is?”
“I…I…I,” stuttered the agent, “I just know. And if you think that you—Miss Kobold—are any different than Miss Wildflower, you belong in an asylum.”
A wave of anger and compassion crashed over Cathy as she watched surprise and hurt fight against Kobold’s best poker face. Cathy took a deep breath and bit her lip. “How much do you need, Miss Kobold?”
A chorus of “What?” resounded through the room.
“You heard me. I would like to hire you, Miss Kobold. So how much money do you need?”
A smile was forming on Leopold’s face. “My friend takes one hundred dollars; fifty in advance, and fifty at the solution of the case.”
Kobold’s face had sobered, and after glancing at Leopold uncertainly, she meekly held her hand out to Cathy.
Steve grabbed Cathy’s arm and gave her a meaningful look. “Do we really want these silly children poking around?”
Cathy surprised everyone, even herself, by ignoring Steve’s rant and shaking the shy girl’s hand. “Done. I want my son to be safe. He’s gone missing and I have a theory that your archenemy has something to do with it. When can you start?”
“Immediately.” The joy in Miss Kobold’s eyes was evident.
* * *
Midnight: Thursday night
Alone. David found himself alone. He was in his quiet place: his painting mindset. He had never found a place more familiar than his mind when all was quiet. Not even his own home was ever this familiar to him. Here he could think, be alone. He could understand what it was to live. More often than not, he would spend hours alone praying and painting. He would forget to eat meals and go on with daily routines. His art was more important.
Never in his life would he have thought that art school would lead him here; forgery and ruining a man’s life. How would he do this? How would he live with the guilt if he went along with Wildflower’s plan? His family was at stake; he had to go through with it.
This wasn’t his studio. It was an Italian shack that Wildflower had put him in to paint. He was constantly drifting out of the sea of his painting mood. He had tried everything to keep his focus; fishing in the river near by, listening to music while he painted, even go on walks around the city.
On one of his longer walks around town, David came back to find someone in the studio. An Italian who played with the paintbrushes and flashed his Polizia badge every time David spoke. With the aftereffects of some amateur Italian classes, David understood that the stranger was with the government. And that the stranger had been there for long enough that he could leave then. David noticed after the man left, the poppy flower Wildflower had asked him to paint was still wet. David hadn’t thought of this in weeks, he could tell her but his family would die.
“I won’t let them die,” David thought aloud as he painted the final strokes of The Last Supper. “I wonder why she picked a poppy? Oh well. Now for the authenticating.”
“Mister Setter, how are we doing?” came the smooth poison of the recently familiar, feminine voice.
David nearly dropped the dust he was about to apply to the cracks he had made to the Last Supper. “Just finished painting. Now I’m going to authenticate the piece with your aged dust.”—She gave him a meaningful glare—“Boss.” He ground the word through his teeth before spitting it out for her to hear.
“Good boy. We have much to talk about. I expect you to listen to me as you paint.” She took a seat on one of the stools around the room. “Richard was killed.”
David’s eyes closed and his heart cracked. Sadness enveloped him. All he felt like doing was burning this studio to the ground. Maybe he would burn it after all of this.
“But, a mistake was made and the body was…taken. My men couldn’t find it. And that is why I had to find a life to manipulate your work with. Your mother will be the next death, and, just for fun, let’s add your oldest younger sister. She is sixteen correct?” Wildflower smiled evilly and looked at him.
“Just shy of eighteen. She is very particular about her age.” He smiled to herself as he dusted the painting, remembering his sister with fondness.
“Anyway, the have been invited to my father’s home for the presentation. And if anything goes the slightest bit askew, your fault or not, your mother will suffer first. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” David muttered without feeling. After another meaningful and a fist slammed on a table from Wildflower’s direction, “Boss.” He remembered the suited man that had been in the studio during the long walk; David had assumed it was one of Wildflower’s men. “Maybe I should inform her… No. What is done is done,” the boy thought.
* * *
9:00 pm Friday night
The muted tones of dishes being washed and girlish laughter echoed from the kitchen as Steve and Cathy said goodbye to Leopold and Kobold.
“Thank you so much for dinner, Miss Setter. Your vodka pasta was fantastic. And I speak for myself and Kobold.” Leopold smiled.
“My pleasure. So, Kobold, I hope you will come with me to Italy. Would you mind? My oldest daughter, Victoria, has homework for Monday. And you could pass off as her.”
The shy yet brilliant girl smiled, and her eyes seemed to sparkle as she glanced at her friend, “Yes, Miss Setter, I would love to accompany you.”
There was a certain nervousness that the young Kobold girl was shackled by. It came to light in her halting manner of speaking and how she glanced at her friend for support at everything that happened, almost as if she was afraid he would slip away at the oddest moments. This was the other face of Kobold, not the confident one that could analyze a stranger’s life in a matter of seconds. This face made her loveable, and the rude, detective’s face kept her employed.
“Then we leave at five in the morning.” Cathy smiled.
The two new family friends of the Setters walked toward the city and Steve closed the door. Cathy smiled out the window as she saw Miss Kobold jump up and down.
“I’m going to Italy!” Cathy heard the muted voice of the sweet, shy girl. Her friend hugged her and they continued walking.
Steve walked up to his wife. “Are you happy that you’re changing her life?”
“What do you mean, dear?” Cathy raised an eyebrow.
“Well, I’m no Kobold, but I’m fairly sure that you’re the first motherly figure she has ever had.”
“Then I guess we are both happy. It warms my heart to help her, and I hope she won’t disappear after all this is over. I wonder if she has parents.”
“You should ask her on your trip. Girls, please go to bed.” Steve herded the children upstairs to their rooms.
* * *
7:00 pm Saturday
David gasped. His mother walked through the door of the mansion and checked in. His ears were so tuned to her that he heard her every word, “Cathy Setter and daughter.” His heart sank. Not his sister too.
“Wait, that isn’t Victoria,” he thought as a girl rushed up to his mother’s side. “Maybe Wildflower won’t know. Wait, who is that?”
“Do not let her see you. You weren’t even meant to see her tonight,” came the liquid smoke of Wildflower’s voice.
David’s heart sank. All he wanted to do was hug his mother and run far away from here, find the quickest plane to America and fly home. But now, he had to keep to the shadows all night and possibly watch his mother die. “Fine.” He could not even bring himself to look at the wicked girl smiling down at his family.
* * *
7:30 pm Saturday
Kobold smiled. “Italy! I’m here, my home country where my mother grew up. I can’t believe this.” The girl dug her fingernails into her palm to keep herself from crying.
“Silly girl. Crying at an art auction?” came a vaguely familiar voice. “Have we met?”
“Oh no. Its her.” Kobold shivered and turned with a huge smile on her face. “Hello! I am just getting emotionally overwhelmed; Starry Night by Van Gogh is my favorite. I’m Victoria Setter, and you are?” The young detective unleashed her bubbly girlishness and detected a surprised smile on Cathy’s face.
“Call me Wildflower. Enjoy the party.” The girl smiled. “I’m sorry if I frightened you, I thought I recognized you from somewhere else.”
“Oh, I’m awfully sorry. I don’t think we’ve ever met. I’d remember a name as entrancing as Wildflower. It’s almost as if you’ve popped right out of Anne of Green Gables’ imagination.” The usually shy girl babbled excitedly.
“Yes, yes. Do excuse me. I have little time for imagination, and I have a deep seated hatred for Green Gables,” Wildflower stated rudely as she slithered away.
“What was that, Victoria?” Cathy asked the again-timid girl.
“An act, Mother.”
“How can you do it? Act perfectly talkative when the need be and the rest of the time be withdrawn and—for the sake of a better term—nervous?”
“Everyone deserves a disguise.” Kobold glanced at Wildflower. “Look, our mystery flower is talking to the curtain just next to the door. I presume that is your David, Miss Setter. Hold on; don’t confront him. Stay here. There are armed guards on the top floor banister, and they are most likely there for you and me and your son in case anything goes off-track to the little rich girl’s plan.”
* * *
Everyone was seated. An older man was at the podium, was speaking, and he finally yelled, “The original copy of the Last Supper, straight from the artist’s hands.”
The curtains drew back, and a young man stood up and confronted the elder. “Lies! Let us do a black light scan.” It was a Wildflower-hired man.
After several minutes, from his perch behind the curtain, David witnessed his floral masterpiece. But behind the black light, in dripping red letters, “CHECK THE DAUGHTER’S ROOM” stood in front of everyone like a murderer in a court.
“The Italian Police officer. No.” David thought.
In a flash, a platoon of guards rushed up and down the stairs and a gun was shot.
The dust cleared, and Wildflower rushed up to David and slapped his face. “You double crosser!” Her hair was disheveled and her make-up smeared. She held a handgun in her hand.
“I didn’t do it!” yelled David.
“You liar!” the rich girl screamed. She pulled the gun up and aimed at Cathy. Cathy’s eyes grew wide as realization dawned on her face, and her gaze met her son’s terrified expression.
The young painter lunged toward the antagonistic girl, but two guards withheld him. “No! You can’t do this! I didn’t do this!”
The gun was fired. A cry was heard. And the silence afterward was so moving, that not one witness has ever forgotten it.
* * *
10:00 pm Saturday
“Why do I have a blanket?” Kobold asked. “I will not be needing a hospital. No, you cannot make me.” The girl clung with a lasting hope to the nearest stable thing: a light pole. “It is a simple gun shot wound. I am fine. Just tape me and I’ll live until I get home.” The girl started arguing with the Italian paramedics in their native tongue.
“Where on earth did you find her?” David chuckled with his mother.
“She knocked me down when I met her, too.” Cathy laughed and rubbed her arm from the rug burn. “I hope she doesn’t disappear.”
A paramedic wheeled a body past the Setters, and both of them grew quiet. David finally spoke. “He was a good friend, and as close as a brother. I’m just glad that you won’t be joining him at the morgue.”
“Poor Richard. I’m so sorry, David. We’ll have to thank Kobold for everything. She is a barrel of fun when she wants to be. She gave a perfect impersonation of Victoria, and I don’t even think they spoke one word to each other when Kobold came over for dinner.”
“I’ll never understand how Richard’s body got into Wildflower’s room,” David stated calmly.
“Was it you?” Cathy asked her son. “I want to solve this mystery.”
“No. It wasn’t. I wouldn’t have disgraced Beck like that.” Cathy put an arm around her son. “I think it was an Italian government agent.”
“Can you believe these silly Italians?” Kobold exclaimed. “They gave me a blanket because I’m ‘in shock’ and they expect me to go to the hospital for a silly gunshot wound.”
Wildflower walked past, screeching at the wounded girl. “I’ll get my revenge, Kobold, you watch me! I’ll get out of prison and get you for this!” The police officers escorted her to a squad car and drove away.
“That sounds promising,” smirked Kobold. “Now I’m excited.”
“You should go. How do you know it didn’t hit something vital?” David pointed to the ambulance and asked.
The girl shrugged. “It is fine, I took and anatomy and physiology course for fun once. Nothing vital hit, only a little blood loss. I should probably inform Leopold that I got shot. You must be the famous David.”
“Yes I am. How’d you guess? And who set up the body?”
“You two have the same nose.” She smiled at Cathy and David. “And I haven’t the slightest. But if anyone asks who to blame, blame me. I have enough friends in high places to keep me out of jail for a short while.” The girl winked and growled something in Italian to a paramedic holding a stethoscope. “Can we go home already, Mom?” She blushed at Cathy.