Blood Orchid

“It’s a wonderful drink,” she said, comfortable talking to someone who was so much older than she, and who, into the bargain, was quite handsome-tall, slim, ta

“I’ve never understood the charm of martinis,” he said, “except that they look so wonderful. A gimlet gives you the aesthetic reward of the martini, without having to drink it. Three-to-one is just right, too; bartenders never measure, and they always put too much vodka in a gimlet.” He glanced at the bartender, who pretended not to be listening. The man picked up a jigger and started measuring.

“Yep,” Holly said, “you have to train your bartender to do it right.”

The bartender set two frosted martini glasses on the bar, shook the cocktail shaker for half a minute, then strained the pale, green liquid into the two glasses, decorating each with a slice of lime. “Try that,” he said.

Holly and the man raised their glasses to each other and sipped.

“You’ve earned your tip,” the man said to the bartender.

“You certainly have,” Holly echoed.

The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Ed Shine,” he said, “like the shine on your shoes.”

Holly took the hand. “Holly Barker.”

“From Vero?”

Holly shook her head. “ Orchid Beach, up the road.”

“Really? Me too, for the past four months.”

“I haven’t seen you around,” Holly said.

“Oh? Do you get around all that much?”

“I sure do,” Holly replied. “I work for the city. What do you do, Mr. Shine?”

“Ed, please. I’m retired from the property development business, in New York. Now all I do is grow orchids and play golf.”

“What sort of orchids?” Not that she knew much about them.

“Lots of sorts. I develop hybrids. You know anything about them?”

“Not really.”

“I was attracted to Orchid Beach first because of the name. Saw it on a map and thought I’d have a look.”

“And you liked the town?”

“ Orchid Beach is the way Florida should have turned out but didn’t,” he said. “No high-rises on the beach, beautiful neighborhoods, very manicured.”

“I agree,” Holly said.

Ham stepped up to the bar. “One of those,” he said to the bartender, pointing at Holly’s drink. He gave his daughter a kiss on the cheek.

“Ed, this is my father, Hamilton Barker, known as Ham. Ham, this is Ed Shine, a recent arrival in Orchid.”

The two men shook hands. “Move over here, Ed,” Ham said, pointing at the stool next to Holly. “We’ll bracket her.” He took the stool on the other side of her.

“Ed grows orchids,” Holly said.

“Well, I guess Orchid Beach is the place for it. They grow wild everywhere, you know; that’s how the place got its name.”

They chatted on for a few minutes, then the headwaitress showed up to say their table was ready.

“Join us, Ed, if you’re alone.”

Shine stood up. “Thanks, I’d like that.”

“Can you squeeze in another chair?” Ham asked the headwaitress.

“Sure we can.”

They were shown to their table.

“Let me order some wine for us,” Shine said, picking up the list. “I assume we’re all here for the seafood.”

Ham and Holly nodded.

Two hours later, they finished their coffee. Ed Shine had been an excellent companion-intelligent, amusing, and full of stories, and he had chosen a superior wine.

“Why don’t the two of you stop by my place for a nightcap on the way home?” Shine asked. “I’ll show you some orchids.”

Ham and Holly consulted each other with a glance. “Sure,” Ham said for both of them.

They followed Shine back up A1A, the highway that joins the barrier islands up and down the Florida coast. He took a few turns, and they wound up at a low, nicely designed house on the Indian River, which doubled as the Intercoastal Waterway. Shine led them inside and switched on some lights, revealing a beautifully decorated living room with good pictures on the walls. He poured them each a brandy, then waved them to follow him.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll show you my orchids.” He led the way through the house, opened a door, and switched on the lights.

They found themselves in a greenhouse some forty feet long, filled with tropical plants and many orchids.

“These are my babies,” Shine said, waving a hand. “One in particular.” He held up a pot containing a plant with a single, deeply red bloom. “This is my own creation, after a great deal of work: She’s called the Blood Orchid.”

Then there was the sound of shattering glass, and the pot in Shine’s hand exploded. Holly hit the deck, along with Ham, pulling Shine down beside them.

“What was that?” Shine asked. “And why are we on the floor?”

“That,” Ham said, “was the sound of a bullet fired into your greenhouse by a small-caliber rifle equipped with a silencer.”

“And how the hell would you know that?” Shine asked.

“Believe me,” Holly said, “he knows.”

“Army,” Ham said. “Thirty years of small-weapons use.”

Holly crawled over to the door, reached up, and switched off the lights. “He missed you by inches, Ed. I think we should get back into the house,” she said.

The three of them crawled out of the greenhouse and closed the door behind them. They sat on the floor and looked at one another.

“You carrying, Holly?” Ham asked.

“I’m afraid not,” she replied. “I carry all the time in Orchid, but not when I go to Vero.”

“Maybe you ought to carry all the time, period.”

“It makes a handbag heavy,” Holly said.

Then they heard a car start, and the spi

“He’s gone,” Ham said.

“Jesus, I hope so,” Shine replied. “I guess we’d better call the police.”

“Iam the police,” Holly said.

3

Two patrol cars arrived in under two minutes, and Holly was proud. She sent the two cops outside to look for tracks while she sat in the living room and talked to Ed Shine.

“I’m going to take some notes,” she said, digging a notebook out of her handbag.

“Sure,” Shine said.

“Spell your name for me again?”

“S-h-i-n-e. It’s German-Jewish, was originally spelled S-c-h-e-i-n, but the folks at Ellis Island screwed it up. My grandfather thought it was more American, so he kept it that way.”

“Born?”

“ New York City, seventy years ago.”

She was surprised; he looked a lot younger.

“And you’ve been in Orchid four months, you said?”

“That’s right. I sold my development company to my partner earlier this year, and I wanted to get out of New York, for tax reasons.”

“Ed, can you think of anyone who would want to harm you?”

“Not a soul,” Shine said. “That’s why this is so baffling. Why would anybody want to shoot a retired developer?”

“Are you married?”

“I’m a widower for eight years.”

“Have you been seeing anyone in Orchid since your arrival?”

“A woman? Now and then, when I get lucky. Why do you ask?”

“No jealous husbands in the picture?”

Shine laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment, but no.”

“You have any kids?”

“None; my wife and I tried, but it didn’t work, and we didn’t want to adopt.”

“Any nephews or nieces?”

“None; I was an only child.”

“May I ask, who are your heirs?”

“A number of charities, mostly. I’ve mentioned a few friends in my will, but they don’t know about it.”

“What about your business dealings? Have you made any enemies over the years? Somebody who might have felt hard dealt with?”

“Not a soul; I always wanted both sides to like any deal. I’m considered something of a soft touch in the business.”

“Any problems with the unions?”

“Always,” Shine said, “but I worked hard at being fair with them; they think I’m soft, too. Anyway, it’s been a long time since we hadthat sort of problem with the unions. The feds have pretty much cleaned them up.”