Chapter Text
— Nicole! My God! Nicole!
A brown-haired young girl with long hair, somehow gathered in a ponytail, ran up to the girl lying on a stretcher. The young woman was lying with her eyes closed and barely breathing. The brown-haired young girl tried to approach, but was stopped by another woman. The brunette gently grabbed the brown-haired young girl by the waist and took her away from the stretcher.
— Waverly. — Her voice was soft.— She's going to be fine. Don't stop the doctors from working.
In fact, this is the end of the story. Do you want to hear how it all started? Excuse me. My name is Nicole. Nicole Haught. I'm a killer. And this is my story. The story began a long time ago when I received another order to kill Waverly Earp. You've certainly heard that name. The city-famous tycoon Ward Earp and his daughter Waverly. Then she was just a target. But that was then.
So let's get started. This story began in the fall. On the nastiest, dank, rainy day. October 18, year 20 ... However, it doesn't matter.
October 18.
Nicole came home and shivered. She threw off her coat and shook her head. The coat was wet, the clothes and hair were wet.
"Damn rain." - The young woman thought.- "I hate the damn rain."
She stripped naked, leaving the road from wet clothes to the bathroom. There she poured a full tub of hot water and lay in it until she realized that she was warm. She dressed in pajamas, put on a warm bathrobe and turned on the kettle. And only after drinking tea, she felt quite satisfactory. The young woman turned on the TV and went to collect wet clothes. She threw her clothes in the washing machine and decided to have another snack. The TV was broadcasting the news.
"Today it became known that the car of a politician, businessman and a very famous philanthropist, Charles Bulsharier, had an accident. Presumably, the driver lost control on a wet road and drove into a ditch. The impact was so strong that the driver and passenger died on the spot, before the ambulance arrived. We will monitor the development of events. And now to other news."
Nicole turned off the news and smiled. The phone rang softly, and she looked at the message.
"Thanks for the flowers. Grandma is happy. We will transfer the money tomorrow."
Nicole chuckled and wrote back.
"Me insanely pleasant. Give my regards to Grandma."
"Grandma praised your choice and asks if you can make another order?"
"Depends on the flowers. If they are difficult to get, then I'm unlikely to take up the bouquet."
"Flowers, of course, are of rare beauty, but everyone knows what a professional florist you are."
"You know the rules, but photos of flowers, you can send me an email. You know the address. And the price will depend on the complexity of the bouquet."
"Yes of course, wait. The bouquet is not needed right tomorrow."
Nicole turned off her phone and went to the kitchen, her appetite was terrible. She really wanted to eat. The laptop was right there. Nicole stretched out her long legs and began to eat. A new message came to her email when she was already drinking tea. Nicole decided to take a look at the photo. A pretty brown-haired young girl was looking at her from the photo. And the name - Waverly Earp. The young woman carefully examined the face and remembered the name, then deleted the letter and cleaned the browser.
— I'm sorry, Waverly Earp,— Nicole purred. — But you're going to die soon.
And a week later this sugary dude showed up. I didn't like him right away, as soon as he crossed the threshold of my flower shop. After all, initially I always wanted to do flowers. They are beautiful and give a feeling of happiness. And then it became the perfect cover for my orders: if it was necessary to kill someone, customers just came to me and ordered flowers. For Grandma.
October 25.
Nicole was picking a bouquet and straightening the leaves. The bell above the front door tinkled softly, welcoming a new customer. A well-groomed guy dressed in a suit and coat entered the shop. He was blond and had an expensive ring on his finger. It was obvious from everything that the man was not poor. He walked right up to the table where Nicole was sitting.
— Hello, I would like to order a bouquet. For Grandma. — He said.— Is it possible?
— Yes, of course. — Nicole nodded. — Just a minute.
She left the table, hung up the notice "Lunch break" and locked the door.
— Come in. —She beckoned the guy to follow her. — Look at the flowers, for a bouquet.
She led him into a windowless room and pushed him into the only chair standing there. The guy was immediately chained to him, hand and foot. He looked at Nicole dumbfounded.
— Who are you? — Nicole took out a gun and pressed it against his forehead. — What are you doing here?
— I... I came for a bouquet... For Grandma... — The guy looked at the young woman with horror. — For Grandma.... Flowers...
— I see. — Nicole lightly hit the guy on the back of the head with a gun and he passed out.
A trill sounded from the guy's clothes. Nicole patted his pockets and took out a cheap, push-button phone. The young woman chuckled, but answered the call.
— I'm listening. — She said into the phone.
— Where is my person? — The receiver answered in a colorless, mechanical voice.— And who are you?
— I'm a florist. And you? — Nicole asked.
— Can he talk on the phone? — The voice asked.
— No. — Nicole threw a fleeting glance at the guy. — He can't.
—Is he dead? — The voice asked another question.
— No, just unconscious. There are a lot of smells, from flowers. He felt dizzy. — Nicole replied. — And until you tell me who you are, there will be no conversation.
— I'm a grandmother. — The voice answered. — I want a very beautiful bouquet. I'm told you're the best florist in town. All my wishes - at my person. And an advance.
— Even like this. — Nicole smiled — Good.
— I really liked the previous bouquet. — Said the voice. — I hope the next one will be even more beautiful.
— Don't even doubt it. And... — Nicole hesitated. — Is he your only grandson? Couldn't they have sent another one?
—The only one. — The voice answered.—Unfortunately, relatives are not chosen.
The voice stopped, the beeps started. Nicole nodded, dropped the phone on the floor and crushed it under her heel. Walked all over the case, turning the phone into a mess. She went through the guy's clothes and found two envelopes. One with information, the second with money. Nicole put both envelopes in the safe and brought the guy to his senses. She pressed a few buttons and the chair was a chair again. The guy shook his head.
— Go home. — Nicole told him — With your grandmother, I have agreed on everything.
The guy nodded and almost ran out of the store.
A few days later, I studied the scant information that I was given. And started working. I needed to know everything about my victim. Down to her favorite color and brand of underwear that she loves.To commit the perfect murder. You never know what information will come in handy. So I started with a simple one - with surveillance.
November 1st
Nicole was sitting in a cafe and warming her hands on a glass of hot coffee. She was looking out the window. There was a gym across the street. Exactly three o'clock in the afternoon, the door opened and a young girl, a brown-haired woman, came out into the street. It was the young girl from the photo.
— Well, hello, Waverly Earp,— Nicole murmured. She made a mark in her notebook.
— You won't make it. — With a loud bang, a heavy man plopped down on the chair opposite. — I've tried it two hundred times. Here need to change the angle.
— Eex..excuse me...— Nicole pretended to stutter and pulled her ball cap deeper on her forehead.
— Nedley. — The man held out his hand.— Randy Nedley. You're a journalist too, aren't you? What publication are you from?
— I... I don't work for aaanyone.— Nicole stood up.
— Freelance — The fat man drawled. — Cool.
Then he took a small piece of cardboard out of his pocket and handed it to the young woman.
— Here, take my card.- He said.
— Wh...why? — Nicole was almost genuinely surprised.
— Well, you never know, it will come in handy. — The man explained. — I work for a newspaper, in case you want to sell a good picture. But you won't get it here for sure.
Nicole took the business card, rather to just get rid of this annoying man, rather than to really use his services. She left the cafe and walked around the corner, got into a parked car and laughed nervously. So stupid thing, she almost got into it. She was lucky to be mistaken for a "sensation hunter". Anyway, the object is lost-it was unknown where Waverly went, alone or with someone, driving her car or in her father's car, as a passenger. Nicole went home with the firm intention: to try again tomorrow. Only near another window.
I was still trying to track her down then: I came the next day, sat down at another window, changed my wig and gait. But the "object" did not come out- neither at three o'clock, nor at half past three, nor at four. I purposely ate slowly, was distracted by non-existent calls, but left with nothing. And I decided to change tactics. Three days later, I changed my face and went to another place. Where the "object" has been often: to the library. It would be better not to go.
November 4th.
Nicole adjusted her large glasses, ran her hands over her dress and walked along the bookshelf. A brown-haired young girl moved parallel to her, Nicole saw her very well between the shelves. Nicole pretended to be looking for a specific book, but still looked at Waverly. She will definitely turn in there and check what kind of books are there. Nicole's brain was working feverishly and she was looking for a way to kill the brown-haired young girl with the help of a book. "I can put explosives under the cover. And when she opens it, boom!... Well, or according to the classics. Like Borgia - smear the pages with poison.... But does she lick her fingers when she flips through a book?.. Does she read books at all? Maybe he just runs here so he doesn't have to listen to his dad? Surely an old senile "teaches her life". Just like mine... " She got so carried away that she didn't notice how she bumped into someone.
— I'm sorry. — Nicole heard a young, clear voice.
— Nothing, it's just me... — Nicole's words stuck in her throat. A brown-haired young girl stood in front of her. In person.—.... I'm just....
— Thinking about something? — The brown-haired young girl smiled.
And something trembled in the stern heart of the murderer. The smile was pure, sincere and naive.
— Yeah. — Nicole gasped. — I... me... I need to.... I'll go...
— Wait! — Waverly suddenly grabbed Nicole's arm. Nicole blinked a couple of times. — Could you help me?
— I am? — Nicole adjusted her glasses. — How?
— Help me get the book. She stands very high, I can't reach her. and you... tall.
Waverly suddenly blushed, and Nicole was even a little touched by this ability.
— Tall. — Nicole repeated for some reason.
— Yes! — Waverly confirmed fervently. — It's even surprising that you're overweight. It always seemed to me that tall people are not fat.
Nicole stopped abruptly and looked at the young girl.
— Oh, I'm sorry. — Waverly blushed again. — I didn't mean it...
— Where is your book? — Nicole asked.
— There.— Waverly shook her head and went to the right shelf.
Nicole walked over to her, and Waverly poked at the cover. The book was on a shelf at the top of Nicole's head. The girl had to lift her head to see her. Nicole pulled out a book and almost lost her glasses. From surprise. On the book was written: "Modern small arms." She handed the book to Waverly and hurriedly moved away from her, hiding in the branches of the shelves: she even managed to hear Waverly shout after her "thank you".