Hothouse Orchid (8 page)

18

H
olly sat in her living room with Hurd Wallace and Lauren Cade. She laid her file on Jim Bruno’s juvenile record and the stories from the New Jersey newspaper on the coffee table and sipped a Diet Coke while they read it.

“Well,” Hurd said finally, “this is all very interesting, but there’s nothing here that ties him to the recent rapes and murders locally.”

“Not in an evidentiary sense,” Holly admitted, “but all this shows a past which gives him a predisposition to that sort of crime.”

“None of this could ever be presented in court,” Hurd said. “You haven’t even tied him to the New Jersey murder when he was still a young man.”

“Don’t you think I know that, Hurd?” She tried not to sound irritated. “All I want to do here is place Bruno on your list of suspects. Oh, and you can add to this material that he keeps a boat at the marina that’s tied to the death of two victims and the disposal of one body.”

Lauren spoke up. “I have to agree with Hurd, Holly. Even that could be no more than a coincidence. Eighty or ninety other people, including Detective Jimmy Weathers, keep boats there, too.”

“Maybe you should investigate all of them, Lauren, and when you’re done I’d be willing to bet that not one of them would have the sort of background that Bruno has.”

“You’re convinced that Bruno is our perpetrator?” Hurd asked.

“Of course not, Hurd. I just think he’s your best suspect right now.”

“Our only suspect,” Lauren said.

“All right,” Hurd said, tucking the file into his briefcase, “James Bruno is a suspect. Is that what you want?”

Holly nodded. “Thank you, Hurd. And for God’s sake, don’t show his juvenile record to anybody. It was sealed by the court, and I don’t want to have to explain how I got it.”

“How
did
you get that record?” Lauren asked.

“Don’t ask,” Holly replied.

“Holly,” Hurd said, “do you want to work on this full-time? Do you want me to get you a badge?”

“No!” Holly said. “Please, no! I’m on vacation here, and I don’t want my head filled with this case. Of course, I would appreciate updates.”

Hurd laughed. “You mean you want to be involved but not involved.”

Holly laughed, too. “I mean I don’t want to explain to anybody my past with Bruno or how I’ve looked into his past, especially in court. My boss would not like for me to be cross-examined by some hot defense attorney.”

“All right,” Hurd said, “we’ll keep you out of the official record on the case.”

“Thank you, Hurd. I appreciate your understanding.”

Hurd got to his feet, and Lauren followed him out the front door. Holly waved them off, then turned back into the house. She had to shower and change before Josh came for her.

J
osh arrived, and they took their drinks outside to Holly’s deck and sat down in comfortable chairs to watch the light change on the ocean as the sun went down.

“I ran into the county ME at the hospital this afternoon,” Josh said. “He told me something interesting about one of your crime victims, the one you found on the beach.”

“Tell me,” Holly said.

“He checked for needle marks on her neck, and he found how the Rohypnol had been administered. It wasn’t by needle, it was by gun.”

“I don’t follow,” Holly said.

“A vaccination gun,” Josh explained. “Surely you had one of those used on you during your years in the army.”

“Yes, you’re right,” she said, “but I remember those things as attached by hoses and electrical cords to things.”

“There’s a version that holds a vial of something and is powered by a fairly small battery, the way power tools are these days.”

“Still, it wouldn’t be something you could stick in your pocket, would it?”

“If you had a big enough pocket,” Josh pointed out. “It would be easier to deal with than a hypodermic syringe. You’d just press it against the neck and pull the trigger.”

“Where would a perpetrator obtain one?” Holly asked.

“Probably from the manufacturer or maybe even from a medical supply store—there’s a big one in Vero Beach.”

“Okay, I buy it.”

“It makes the perpetrator more interesting, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose,” Holly said. “It also adds another way to find him. The police could visit that medical supply store in Vero and find out whom they’ve sold the things to. Anybody who wasn’t a doctor or a hospital purchasing agent would stand out as a suspect.”

“I think maybe I should have been a cop,” Josh said. “I enjoy knowing about this stuff, even if I am a couple of steps removed from the process.”

“Well,” Holly said, “maybe you did miss your calling, but it wasn’t as a cop.”

“Really? What should I have been.”

She laughed. “A porn star,” she said.

Josh blushed. “First time I’ve been told that,” he said.

“I don’t believe it. When you’re carrying around that sort of equipment, it gets noticed.”

“Okay, it’s been mentioned,” he admitted, “but nobody ever suggested I should have been in porn films.”

“You know what I think you need?” Holly asked.

“What?”

“Another audition.” She took his hand and led him into the house and upstairs.

“We’ve got a dinner reservation in half an hour,” he said.

“We’ll manage,” Holly said, unzipping his fly.

19

T
eddy Fay awoke as the sun’s rays struck his face. His right arm was numb. Adele Mason’s head lay across it, and her leg was thrown over his. Gently, he extricated his arm and lifted her knee so that he could recover his leg. He slithered silently out of bed, walked to the window and looked out, opening and closing his hand, trying to get his circulation going. The sun had just broken the horizon. He closed the venetian blinds, walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

He shaved, got into a shower, soaped up and then rinsed in cold water. He tiptoed into the bedroom, found some shorts in a drawer and put them on, then he went into the kitchen. He had managed a trip to a grocery the day before, and he put on some coffee and fried bacon in the microwave while he toasted a couple of English muffins and scrambled some eggs.

“Smells good in there,” Adele called from the bathroom.

“Breakfast in five minutes,” he called back, then he heard the shower running.

She came into the kitchen wearing only a towel and kissed him on a shoulder. “Jack, do you mind if I ask how old you are?”

“Sixty,” he lied. “How about you?”

“Forty-nine,” she replied.

“You look wonderful,” he said, emptying the eggs onto two plates.

“You are wonderful,” she said, “at least in bed.”

“Thank you ma’am.” He laughed.

“Oh, I forgot something,” she said, hurrying from the room. She came back with the local newspaper. “I called the paper yesterday and got you a subscription; I always do that with a new client.”

“Thank you,” Teddy said and set the paper on the little table.

They washed down their breakfast with fresh orange juice and finished it with coffee.

Teddy sat back in his chair and picked up the paper. “My goodness,” he said, “according to this you’ve got a serial rapist/murderer in this town.”

“I’m afraid so,” Adele said, “and I hope it’s not going to be bad for business.”

“Why? Doesn’t everyone want to live in a town with murderous thugs?”

“Stop it. I’m serious.”

“I know you are. I’m glad I arrived when I did, or I’d be a suspect, being the new guy in town.”

“What sort of work do you do, Jack?” she asked.

“I’m retired.”

“From what?”

“I’ve invented things all my life, the sort of gadgets you see in those infomercials on TV.” This was not a lie; those little inventions had made him a comfortably wealthy man, and the continuing royalties went, eventually, into his Cayman bank account.

“Can you make a living doing that?”

“You can if you have a few great sellers and if you’ve negotiated a good royalty agreement.”

“Why did you retire?”

“Oh, I just got tired of it, I guess. A few months from now, though, I’ll get an idea for something, and I’ll be back at work. I’ve retired before.”

“Were you ever married?”

“Yes, but she died four years ago of ovarian cancer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I, but I’ve had time to get over it.”

“What brought you to Vero Beach?”

“I thought I’d like to live in a place with a warm winter, and I read something about Vero in a magazine or a newspaper, I forget which.” He smiled at her. “So far, I like it just fine.”

Adele looked at the kitchen clock. “Oh, I’ve got to run; I’m showing a house at eight thirty.” She went back into the bedroom and came back ten minutes later, clothed and made up.

Teddy walked her to the door and gave her a kiss. “Later in the week?”

She got out her calendar. “When’s good for you?”

“Tomorrow night, here? I’ll cook you dinner.”

“You’re on.” She ran for her car.

Teddy went back to the table and finished reading the article about the crimes. It made him angry to think there was some animal hurting women out there. He’d like to get a shot at the guy, he thought.

He read slowly through the paper, getting a sense of the locality, when he saw a familiar face in an ad. It was one of the women he’d seen at the airport: “Ginny Barker, Certified Flight Instructor, Private and Commercial certificates,” and a phone number. She must be related to Holly Barker, he thought.

He went to his computer and Googled Holly, finding news stories about cases she had solved when she had been chief of police in Orchid Beach, a neighbor of Vero. He learned that she had retired from the army after a career as an MP and that her father lived here, too. Ginny Barker was his wife. He wondered how Holly had made the transition to the Agency.

It was interesting to know more about a woman he had once taken to the Metropolitan Opera, in New York, when he had been disguised as an elderly Jewish gentleman, retired from the garment industry. He wondered if she’d ever figured out who he was. Probably so, for she had turned up on the island of St. Marks, where he had also fooled her for a while. Then she had taken that shot at him.

He went into the Agency mainframe, to personnel, and read her file. She was getting good reviews from her superiors, particularly Lance Cabot, and had recently been promoted to assistant deputy director. He was impressed.

He made a mental note to himself not to let his disguise slip while he was in Vero Beach. He might run into her at any time. It occurred to him that his ease in fooling her before might be making him cocky, and he didn’t want to start underestimating her now. He would like to know what she was doing back in this area. She couldn’t be looking for him, because he had picked out this town only a day or two before.

Now he knew that she was a pilot, or studying to be one, taking lessons from her stepmother, who was no older than she. Amazing what you could pick up in the local paper, and it didn’t hurt to have access to the Agency mainframe.

Teddy stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and cleaned up after himself. Then he took his briefcase into the little spare room and began to make it his study. He went online and bought a safe from a local company that promised to deliver it the following day. In the meantime, he found some removal boards behind the sleeper couch and stashed his cash, weapons and other supplies there.

After a couple of hours of work around the place, he had made it livable and had also turned it into a base for himself, with provisions for a quick getaway if necessary. Some people, he reflected, might have been troubled by the stress of constantly watching their backs and planning escapes, but Teddy enjoyed it. He could change towns and his life anytime he chose, and he could invent and produce the IDs and backgrounds necessary to preserve himself. That was fun.

He put on some clothes and went for a drive. It was time he knew more about his new hometown.

20

H
olly sat at Ham’s dining table while Ginny filled out her logbook, entering the training exercises she had performed the day before.

“You know,” Holly said, “I sometimes think about buying an airplane.”

“It’s a great time to do it,” Ginny said, “what with the economy the way it is. Prices are depressed. Can you pay cash?”

“Probably,” Holly said.

“Well, what do you want to do with an airplane?” Ginny asked. “Travel long distances or just fly around on Sunday afternoons?”

“I’d like to be able to fly down here whenever I feel like it,” Holly said. “There’s a nice airport at Manassas, Virginia, not far from my house.”

“You want to make the trip nonstop?”

“Yes.”

“Well, there’s the Cessna 450—a turbocharged single—fast, with a good range.”

“Is it pressurized?”

“No. For that you’d want a Piper Malibu Mirage, and that would cost you twice as much.”

“I’ve got a friend who’s got a Mirage,” Holly said, “and I like it. He’s had the engine upgraded to a turboprop.”

“So, start with the Malibu, then do the conversion later if you need it. Right now I happen to know that the Piper factory in Vero has a couple of airplanes that buyers backed out on after the stock market crash. Let me look into it; I might be able to get you a deal.”

“Sounds good,” Holly said.

“You’d need to do the factory training course, which takes five days, but you have enough time to get that done before you go back to work.” Ginny handed her the completed logbook. “There you go; you’ve had your biennial flight review, so you’re good for another year, and your instrument competency check, too.”

“I really like the idea of the Malibu,” Holly said. “It’s the sort of airplane that could go a long distance on a long weekend. Let’s look at it.”

Ginny got up. “I’ll call a guy I know in sales at the Piper factory,” she said. She got up and went into the little office she shared with Ham.

Holly got up and went out on the back porch, where Ham was reading the
Wall Street Journal.
“Making any money?” she asked.

“Nobody’s making any money,” Ham said. “My portfolio is way down.”

“I’m glad I’m in Treasuries,” Holly said. “I’m thinking about buying an airplane.”

“Good idea. I’m sure Ginny can advise you on that.”

“She already has; she’s looking into it now.”

“Heard anything about your roving rapist/killer?” Ham asked.

“No. He was hot for a few days, now he’s cooled off.”

“Think he’ll get hot again?”

“You can count on it,” Holly said. “He was just getting started when he stopped. I’ll bet he’s already getting antsy again, looking forward to that thrill.”

“You know, I’ve killed a bunch of people in my time—Vietnam gave me that dubious opportunity—and I didn’t find one of those kills thrilling.”

“That means you’re a normal human being, Ham—well,
fairly
normal—and our guy isn’t. He’s all twisted up inside.”

“You think it’s Jim Bruno, don’t you?”

“Right now, he’s the only suspect, but I haven’t decided he’s the one. He needs to get tied to one of these cases directly, with some hard evidence.”

“You ever miss being a cop?” Ham asked.

“Sometimes; it has the virtue of resolution: you solve a crime and send somebody to prison. The work I do now, the victories take longer, mostly. You get a short-term thrill now and then, when an operation goes just the way you hoped it would, but not very often.”

“I know what you mean,” Ham said. “In Vietnam, you had a good day or a bad day. You couldn’t think a month ahead, because in a month you might be on the other guy’s KIA list.”

Ginny came out back to join them, a sheet of paper in her hand. She handed it to Holly. “They faxed me the specs on an airplane that’s sitting out on the ramp at the airport,” she said. “Take a look. It’s loaded with the latest of just about everything. They took a big deposit on it, but the guy got hurt in the market, and he can’t close the sale.”

Holly read the list carefully, trying to imagine each piece of equipment on the airplane. “Wow,” she breathed. “This is a dream machine. How much?”

“How about a hundred and fifty grand off list?” Ginny asked. “I talked to the seller, and he’s highly motivated; he wants to get his deposit back, and he’s willing to take a loss to do that. The factory wants the rest of their money, too, so they’re chipping in something.”

“Tell them yes,” Holly said. She looked at her watch. “I can get the money wired here today. Do you think we could buy it through your flying school? I don’t want an expensive airplane registered in my name right now. It might raise questions with my employer.”

“Sure, I guess so.” Ginny went and got her checkbook, ripped one out and handed it to Holly. “You can wire the funds to this account.”

Holly made a note of the information, then went inside and called her bank in the Caymans. She entered her account number and two passwords, then tapped in the amount and the receiving account number and routing code. A computerized voice repeated the information to her, she confirmed it, then she was asked to speak a code sentence. She did so, and the computer confirmed her identity and authorized the transaction. Holly returned to the porch. “The money’s on its way.”

“You want to go look at the airplane?” Ginny asked.

“Sure!”

They drove to the airport in two cars, so Holly wouldn’t have to drive Ginny back, and she followed Ginny onto the field to a ramp outside the Piper factory where three airplanes were parked. A man was waiting next to a Malibu Mirage with the keys, and he opened it up for them.

Holly loved the smell of new inside the airplane—all leather seats and wool carpeting. She sat in the pilot’s seat, with Ginny next to her, and examined the big glass panels that displayed all the flight and instrument information.

“By the way,” the Piper man said, “the training class starts Monday morning; by next Friday, you’ll be qualified.”

“I can’t wait,” Holly said. “How about insurance?”

“I’ll put the airplane on my flight school policy,” Ginny said, “and you can reimburse me.”

“Great. When can we close?”

“How about tomorrow morning?” the man sitting behind them asked.

“That’s good for me,” Ginny said. “I’ll stop by the bank on the way in tomorrow and get a cashier’s check.”

They got off the airplane and Holly walked around it. It was painted in a beautiful red and white color scheme. She wiped a finger across the paint and found grit. “It’s dirty,” she said. “How long has it been sitting on the ramp?”

“About seven weeks,” the man said. “I’ll have it washed today.”

“Ginny, will you fly it before we close, make sure there are no maintenance squawks?”

“Sure, I will,” Ginny said.

Holly was more excited than she had been since she had started training at the Agency’s Farm. “Ginny, can we fly her some over the weekend? Do you have the time?”

“Sure, we’ll get a head start on your training.”

Holly drove home, singing to herself. She hadn’t been this excited since she began her training at the Agency.