Mike comes forward and I see he’s wearing gloves. “May I?” He points to the box. When I continue to stare at the box, Mike prods me again, “Sir, it’s safe. I’ve scanned it.”

I lower my chin and he opens the box carefully. Under the black wrapping is a plain white box. When he opens it, there’s a single black rose inside, its tips dipped in red color. Mike lifts it out. There’s a note attached to it. He places the note on the table for me to read.

You were lucky! Next time, you won’t be.

Holy shit!

“This proves that...” Mike starts to say but I cut him off.

“I know what it fucking proves, Mike. We’d already figured that I was the target of the shooting. What I want is to catch the fucking bastard who’s doing this.”

Mike picks up the note and the flower. “I’ll get everything scanned for prints, though I doubt we’ll find anything. And the boy seems to be a dead end as well. He’s just a poor kid enticed to make a quick buck. We’re looking into him in any case. The woman who gave him this wore a scarf, sunglasses and gloves throughout, so he couldn’t give us anything substantial to go on. Apparently, she told him she’d be watching if he does the delivery or not. Security stepped outside to look for her but that was pointless as no one matching that description was around.”

“Fine, keep me informed.”

“Also, Sir, the florist that delivered the flowers that came with the first note had used their regular delivery boy. He dropped the flowers off with Joan. I looked into his background and he’s clean. The florist is a small store at Piccadilly. They have no security measures, no cameras and not even an online store. The owner remembered the order being placed by a male. She couldn’t make out his age. He too wore gloves and a hat throughout and so she didn’t get a good look at his face either.”

“So, a similar modus operandi for today,” I say.

“I’m checking with stores neighboring the florist for any cameras that could give us a breakthrough in recognizing the man.”

I tug on my hair. “Where have the police reached with the shooter?”

“They found some security footage but it’s quite useless because there is nothing identifiable. The number plate’s all blurred like it’s been scraped off and the shooter was wearing a helmet.”

I cross my arms. “So again, nothing worthwhile?”

“They think it’s a damp squib. However, I’m going through all the feeds from the cameras at Annette & Co. I want to check on something. I’ll let you know if I find out anything concrete.”