Hothouse Orchid (17 page)

43

I
t was Holly’s last day of training on the Malibu, and she was now certified to pilot her new airplane. She drove home, excited, ready to grill steaks with Josh, and as soon as she walked through the door she saw the light on the phone flashing. She pressed the voice-mail button on the phone and listened.

“Holly, it’s Lauren. Please call me on my cell as soon as you get this message. Something good has happened.”

Holly dialed the number.

“Holly?”

“Yep.”

“I’ve got good news and good news.”

“Tell me the good news first.”

“Bruno is dead; he ate his gun.”

Holly had to sit down. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then let me tell you the good news: he left a suicide note confessing to the murders of the women.”

Holly took a deep breath. “I’m just flabbergasted, Lauren.”

“There’s more: we searched his house and found six pairs of women’s panties in a shoe box in a closet—they’re being tested for DNA matches with the victims now—and a vaccination gun that matches the serial number of the one stolen from the hospital.”

“I would call that a slam dunk,” Holly said. “Who found the body?”

“Jimmy Weathers. I forgot to tell you the bad news.” Lauren told her about the latest victim and about the phone call asking Jimmy to check on Bruno. “He found him dead in bed, with half a bottle of Scotch on the bedside table. The autopsy results have just come in: he had Ambien and six ounces of Scotch in his stomach, and the ballistics are good for his service pistol. All we need are the DNA results on the panties, and they’re due any minute. Hang on a second.” Lauren spoke with somebody else, then came back on the line. “The results are in: the DNA results match the victims. No semen present, though.”

“Then Bruno is cooked as well as dead. Nice of him to save the state of Florida the trouble, wasn’t it?”

“It sure was. I can’t remember when I’ve been so happy. It’s like the world has been lifted from my shoulders. Don’t tell anybody I said this, but I’ve thought more than once about killing him myself, and if I’d had an opportunity, I don’t know if I could have answered for myself.”

“You deserve to be happy, Lauren. Congratulations on clearing the murders, and congratulate Hurd for me, too, will you?”

“I sure will. I’ve gotta run, now. Oh, can you and Josh join Jack and me for dinner at his house Saturday at seven thirty?”

“I think so. I’ll ask Josh and confirm with you.”

“Bye-bye.”

H
olly was salting the steaks and making a salad when Josh arrived. “Hey,” she said, accepting a kiss. “Drink?”

“I’ll make it; you’re busy,” he replied. “You seem a little dazed. Something wrong, or is it just the bourbon?”

“No, everything is good,” she said. She gave him the details of Bruno’s death and the clearing of the murders.

“That’s fabulous news!” Josh said. “But you don’t seem all that happy about it.”

“It’s just that it’s all too good to be true,” Holly said. “It’s too neat a package.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Josh said.

“I know.”

“Sometimes things just work out the way they should,” he said. “I mean, Bruno was always the suspect, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, but if he was the murderer, he was getting away with it, and I don’t see him killing himself because of an attack of conscience. In my experience of him, he didn’t have a conscience.”

“You have a counterhypothesis?”

Holly picked up the phone and dialed Lauren again.

“Hi, Holly.”

“A question, Lauren.”

“Okay.”

“What was the time of death on the last victim?”

“Midnight to four a.m.”

“And what was the time of death on Bruno?”

“Two a.m. to six a.m.”

“And what time did Jimmy get the call about Bruno not showing for work?”

“A little after ten a.m.”

“And what time did you get to Bruno’s house?”

“About ten thirty.”

“So how long would Jimmy have been at Bruno’s house when you got there?”

“Ten minutes, maybe.”

“Okay, that’s all I wanted to know.”

“You were thinking Jimmy might have offed Bruno?”

“I just wanted to eliminate the possibility, and the time line does that. Oh, who found the panties and the vaccination gun?”

“Hurd. I didn’t want to go into Bruno’s bedroom, so he and Jimmy were searching it. Hurd called me in to witness the evidence find.”

“That clears up my questions, then. Thanks, Lauren.”

“Bye-bye, Holly. See you Saturday.”

“Hang on a second, Lauren.” Holly turned to Josh. “Lauren has invited us to dinner at her boyfriend’s house on Saturday night. You available?”

“I’ll have to switch a shift, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Lauren, we’re good for dinner. You said seven thirty?”

“Yep. I’ll give you the address.”

Holly wrote it down. “And Jack’s last name?”

“Smithson.”

“See you Saturday at seven thirty.” Holly hung up.

“You look happier,” Josh said.

“Lauren had the right answers to my questions.”

“I heard the questions; what did the answers prove?”

“That Jimmy Weathers couldn’t have killed Bruno.” She explained the time line and the details of Jimmy’s finding Bruno’s body.

“Jimmy’s the cop I met at the hospital, right?”

“Right.”

“And you thought Jimmy might have killed Bruno?”

“Not really. I was just covering all the bases, eliminating Jimmy as a suspect; it’s how cops think.”

“Interesting,” Josh said. “Jimmy didn’t have time to kill him and forge a suicide note.”

“That’s it.”

“But . . .”

“But what?”

“He had time to hide the panties and the vaccination gun, didn’t he?”

“You’re thinking that Jimmy could have murdered the women?”

“Can you eliminate him as a suspect in the women’s murders?”

“I see your point,” Holly said, “but something else eliminates him as a suspect in those crimes.”

“What?”

“Bruno’s suicide note; he claimed credit for the women, and that excludes Jimmy and everybody else in town.”

Josh nodded. “Got it.”

“You’re thinking like a cop, too,” Holly said.

“Maybe cops and doctors aren’t all that different,” Josh said. “I was thinking that Jimmy had been at the hospital, and he could have stolen the vaccination gun.”

“Good point.”

“But you’re right; Bruno’s suicide note clears Jimmy.”

“It’s good enough for me,” Holly said.

“You’re sure he couldn’t have murdered Bruno and written the note in ten minutes?”

“Listen, I know Jimmy well. He’s a nice young man and a good cop, but I don’t think he has the low cunning or the skills to commit murder and forgery on the fly.”

“How about if he finds Bruno already dead, then forges the note and plants the evidence?”

“Just barely possible, but the investigation will include authenticating the suicide note.”

“So you’re happy, Holly?”

“I’m happy.”

“In that case, so am I.”

44

H
olly was having breakfast the following morning when the phone rang. “Hello?”

“Holly, it’s Jimmy.”

“Good morning, Jimmy. I heard about the clearing of the Bruno murders; I want to congratulate you.”

“Thanks, Holly. It’s a big relief. I want to ask a favor of you.”

“What do you need?”

“I need a letter of recommendation to the city council.”

“Recommending who for what?”

“Me for chief of police.”

“I see.”

“Bruno never appointed a deputy chief, and I’m the senior officer, so I’m acting chief. I’d like to have the council make it permanent, and a letter from you would be a big help.”

“All right, Jimmy, I’ll be glad to do that.”

“Can you fax it, then mail it?” He gave her the number.

“Sure, I’ll have it out within the hour. Have you asked Hurd?”

“Yes, and he’s agreed. You and Hurd are the best recommendations I could have.”

“When’s your interview?”

“This afternoon.”

“Good luck, Jimmy.” Holly hung up and put her dishes in the dishwasher, then she went into her secure office, fired up her computer and wrote the letter:

To the Orchid Beach City Council:

I wish to recommend James Weathers for the position of chief of police. Jimmy has been on the force for twelve years now, and I participated in his training as a detective. I always found him eager to learn, organized, efficient and meticulous in his work, and I am sure he would bring these traits to the position of chief. He has the respect of the entire force and mine, as well.

Holly signed it, faxed it and left the envelope in her mailbox for pickup. When she got back to the house, the phone was ringing.

“Hello?”

“Holly, it’s Hurd.”

“Good morning, Hurd, and congratulations on wrapping up the Bruno case.”

“Thanks, but you know very well that we got lucky.”

“Sometimes you need luck.”

“I know. Has Jimmy Weathers spoken to you this morning?”

“Yes, and I wrote him a recommendation, faxed it and mailed it. He told me you had agreed to do so, too.”

“I did, after he told me you had agreed.”

Holly thought it best not to mention that Jimmy had told her Hurd had already agreed. “I think he’ll do a good job.”

“I guess he will. He never gave me any cause to doubt his ability.”

“Well, I hope he gets it.”

“Yes. Lauren told me you asked some time-line questions about Jimmy.”

“I did.”

“I just want you to know that I had the same questions, but they were answered to my satisfaction. Also, I had the benefit of seeing Jimmy work the scene, and I thought he did a good job there, too.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement, Hurd, and I know you’re glad to get this one off your desk. I’m sure the governor will be pleased, too.”

“I expect so. Well, I’ll get my letter for Jimmy off now. I hope to see you again before you go back to Virginia.”

“You’ll have to come by for a drink, Hurd.”

“Thanks.” He said goodbye and hung up.

Well, Holly thought, I underestimated Jimmy’s capacity for low cunning; he was smart enough to tell both Hurd and me that the other had agreed to write a letter.

C
lad in a freshly pressed suit, Jimmy Weathers presented himself in the offices of the city council. He stood and waited in the reception room, not wishing to spoil the crease in his trousers.

The phone on the reception desk buzzed, and the secretary answered it. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, and hung up. “You can go in now, Jimmy,” she said.

Jimmy walked into the council chamber and found all the chairs at the long table filled. He knew these people; some of them had known him since childhood.

“Please sit down, Detective Weathers,” said Irma Taggert, the council chairperson.

Jimmy took the lone chair facing the curved table. “Good morning,” he said to all of them.

“Good morning,” Irma replied. She seemed less unpleasant than usual. “Detective, we each have a copy of your application and a package containing your performance reviews since you joined the force. We want to congratulate you on amassing a very good record over the past twelve years.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Jimmy replied.

“You’re . . .” she consulted his application, “thirty-six years old, is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“We’ve never had a chief that young,” she said.

“I know,” Jimmy said, “but I do have twelve years on the job, and I would like to point out that all my experience has been in Orchid Beach, which I think gives me an advantage over applicants from other jurisdictions.”

“Good point,” Taggert said. “And we do have favorable recommendations from two past chiefs, Holly Barker and Hurd Wallace.”

“I appreciate those,” Jimmy said, “and I’m confident that the late Chief Marley, who originally hired me, would have recommended me if he could have.”

“Does anyone have any questions to ask the detective?” Taggert asked.

“Jimmy,” one of the men said, “how do you feel about the current staffing of the force?”

“Well, we’re short a deputy chief, and we should have one.”

“Do you know why Chief Bruno didn’t offer you the job?”

“He told me he was considering me and he thought I was qualified, but I had the impression he might have preferred to bring in someone he had known in the army.”

“If you’re promoted, is there anyone currently on the force that you’d promote to deputy chief?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’d hire from outside. However, I would promote someone from within to fill my detective’s slot.”

“I see. So all you’d need to hire would be a deputy chief?”

“For the moment,” Jimmy said. “I’d also continue to work cases as a detective. I don’t think there’s enough administrative work to take up all my time.”

“So we could decrease the departmental budget?”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Jimmy replied. “I’d like to have the budget to hire another officer, should we need one.”

Jimmy was asked a few more questions, then thanked and dismissed.

“We’ll be in touch,” Irma Taggert said.

Jimmy left the room feeling that his interview had gone well.

45

O
n Saturday evening, Teddy was up to his ears in preparing dinner and, simultaneously, preparing himself for his third face-to-face meeting with Holly Barker. On the first occasion, he’d had a fine production of
La Bohème
to distract her from paying attention to him, and, moreover, he was heavily disguised. On the second occasion, on the island of St. Marks, he had gained twenty-five pounds and sported red hair and a thick moustache; now he had lost the twenty-five pounds and perhaps a bit more, which had the pleasing effect of making him look younger. His hair and wig were graying, but he was still passing for sixtyish. He was also more tanned, since he had been living on the beach for a while.

He seared a whole, well-seasoned tenderloin of beef in a large skillet while he spread a chicken liver and mushroom pâté over rolled-out puff pastry. When the tenderloin was thoroughly browned, he placed the pastry in a roasting pan, set the tenderloin on it and wrapped the pastry around it, pinching it decoratively at the top to hold it together and for an attractive presentation. He then set the pan in the oven.

He heard the driveway alarm go off and a minute later the screen door slam.

“Honey, I’m home!” Lauren shouted over the jazz playing on the living room stereo. “I brought my best china.”

She came into the kitchen and kissed him. “How’s it going?”

“I’m halfway through,” he said. “The roast is in the oven. That was the time-consuming part. Why don’t you set the table?”

“Will do,” she said. “My good crystal is in the car. I’ll go get it.”

Teddy put the vegetables on, then went into the bedroom and changed into a silk shirt and new trousers he had bought at the Ralph Lauren outlet store in Vero. He slipped on a new pair of alligator loafers that he had gotten on sale on the Internet, then he checked himself in the mirror. He was definitely
not
the man he had been when Holly last saw him, and, besides, he had been employing a soft, southern accent since his arrival in Vero Beach.

Teddy walked back into the living room and viewed the first place setting. “Great!” he said. “You brought linen napkins, too.”

“Oh, yes. My mother would have turned over in her grave if I’d put out the good china and crystal and not put out the linens.”

Teddy picked up a wine goblet. “Baccarat,” he said. “My favorite.”

“What do we have for wine?” Lauren asked.

“Two bottles of Far Niente chardonnay in the fridge and two of Far Niente cabernet for the main course on the sideboard, one breathing. They’re delicious, and they have the advantage of the world’s most beautiful labels.” He set the open bottle on the table, between the silver candlesticks she had brought.

“There,” she said. “Just perfect. Now I’ve got to go change.” She ran into the bedroom with a garment bag.

Teddy went back to the kitchen, just in time to turn off the vegetables. As he did, he heard the driveway alarm chime, so he took off his apron and went to the door, running through his mind the differences between his Jack voice, which was mostly his own, and the last voice Holly had heard him speak.

He opened the door and went out onto the porch just as Holly and her friend were getting out of a Mercedes. “Good evening,” he said, “I’m Jack Smithson.”

“I’m Josh Harmon,” the man said, extending a hand.

Holly came from around the car. “Hi, I’m Holly Barker,” she said, offering her hand.

“And I’m Jack Smithson,” Teddy replied, shaking it. “Come on in and let’s get a drink. Lauren is still dressing, as you might imagine.” He led them into the house. “What can I get you?” he asked.

“Knob Creek on the rocks,” Holly said, “if you have it. Not everybody does.”

“I have it,” Teddy said, scooping up some ice and pouring the drink.

“Scotch for me,” Josh said.

“I have Johnnie Walker Black or Laphroaig, a single malt.”

“Oh, the Laphroaig, that’s a real treat.”

Teddy poured Josh’s drink, and then one each for Lauren and himself. He carried her drink into the bedroom, zipped up her dress for her and handed her the drink. “They seem very nice,” he said.

She took a quick sip of her Scotch. “Well, get back in there and charm the socks off them.”

Teddy returned to the living room, seated them on the sofa and settled into a chair. “So, Josh, you’re an ER doctor at the Indian River Hospital?”

“That I am.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Sometimes exciting, sometimes a little too exciting,” Josh replied.

“And Holly, you’re with the CIA?”

“That’s right.”

“In what capacity?”

“I’ve recently been appointed assistant deputy director of operations.”

“Operations, is that the analysis part or the spy part?”

“It’s the spy part,” she said.

“Sounds very mysterious. I won’t ask you a lot of questions about it, because I’m sure you won’t answer them. I would like to know if you enjoy your work, though.”

“More than anything I’ve ever done,” Holly answered.

“What did you do before you went to work for the CIA?”

“I was the police chief in Orchid Beach, and before that I was a career army officer, serving in the military police.”

“That’s quite a background,” Teddy said.

“What do you do?”

“I’m retired, now. I was a machinist and a mechanical engineer.”

“Where did you go to college? MIT, perhaps?”

Teddy laughed. “Oh, no. I apprenticed as a machinist, and I’m completely self-taught as an engineer.”

“Did you work for an engineering firm?”

“No, I was self-employed. I invented things.”

“What sort of things?” she asked.

“Office equipment, small kitchen appliances and gadgets.”

“Did you sell them on late-night TV?”

“No, but some of the kitchen stuff was sold that way. I usually sold the ideas to a company that would manufacture and distribute the product and pay me a royalty.”

“Was that lucrative?”

“Surprisingly so,” Teddy said. “My wife was astonished; she always expected me to remain as poor as I was when we married.”

“Are you divorced?”

“No, widowed: four years ago, ovarian cancer.”

“I’m sorry,” Holly said.

“It’s often misdiagnosed,” Josh contributed.

“As it was in her case.”

“Teddy . . .” Holly began.

“It’s Jack.” He didn’t twitch.

“I have the feeling we’ve met someplace before.”

“Not that I recall,” Teddy replied. He smiled. “I think I would have remembered. Do I remind you of this Teddy? Who was he?”

“Just someone I knew a while back, and, yes, you remind me of him a little.”

“Well, I hope your memories of him are pleasant ones.”

“Not entirely.”

“Uh, oh,” Teddy said. “I’m going to get blamed for the old boyfriend. I can see it coming.” He laughed.

Holly was about to reply when Lauren walked into the room, looking smashing in a tight dress. “Is everybody drunk yet?”

“No,” Josh said, “but we’re working on it.”

“Dinner’s in twenty minutes,” Teddy said, looking at his watch, “so you’ve got time for a refill.” He got up and freshened the drinks.

T
wenty minutes later, Teddy was slicing
boeuf
Wellington and serving vegetables. Holly had nailed him, or had she? Maybe she had only caught a whiff of his identity and had already dismissed it. In any case, she hadn’t taken a shot at him yet. He poured the wine and sat down to dinner.