Blood Orchid (Holly Barker 3)

“Nope. I’m surprised a pro would leave one on the scene.”

“A pro in Miami did the same thing,” she replied. She handed him the Miami detective’s address. “If you’re through with it, send the shell casing to this guy, registered mail. Get a receipt.”

“Okay.”

“You say the Shine thing is a dead end?”

Hurd shrugged. “Somebody took a shot at him and missed, left no trace of himself except the shell casing. There’s been no other attempt. I don’t know how to make any more out of it.”

“Neither do I,” Holly said.

5

Holly arrived at Palmetto Gardens to find Ham and Ed Shine waiting for her at the main gate. Two workmen were there, too, hoisting into place a large sign reading BLOOD ORCHID ESTATES, A new golf community, home sites from $1,000,000, completed homes from $2,500,000. There was a phone number at the bottom. Holly rolled down her window.

“Follow me,” Ed Shine said, getting into his car.

Holly follow

ed Ed and Ham to the clubhouse, where they got out of their cars. Holly and Ham had played there once before, when the place was a criminal enterprise. “So you bought yourself some property, Ed?”

“Yeah, I did,” Ed replied. “I didn’t tell you about it the other evening because I hadn’t bid yet and I didn’t want to jinx it.”

“The papers said the price was sixty million dollars, but they didn’t mention your name.”

“The price was correct, and I consider it a steal,” Ed replied. “I like to keep a fairly low profile; I formed a company for the purchase, Blood Orchid Properties.”

“Those are pretty hefty prices you’re advertising,” Ham said.

“Right,” Holly added. “I’ve never heard of prices like that in Orchid Beach.”

“A sign like that keeps out the riffraff,” Shine replied. “Anyway, when I’m done with this place, people will be lining up to pay those prices,” Ed said. “You wait and see. Come on, let’s get our clubs.”

They retrieved their clubs from their cars and walked out onto the first tee.

“Wow,” Holly said, “the course is in beautiful shape.”

“The Feds kept on the grounds crew when they confiscated the property,” Ed replied. “They knew they’d get more money if the courses were kept in shape, and they maintained the rest of the property, too. Ham, you tee off first, then me, then we’ll take Holly down to the ladies’ tees.”

“Holly drives from the men’s tees,” Ham said.

“Then Holly, you go first, by all means.”

Holly teed up, did some stretching, then drove the ball two hundred and thirty yards down the right side of the fairway.

Ham drove next, outdriving her by ten yards.

Ed drove next. Holly thought he was amazingly flexible for his age; she’d expected a short backswing and a bent left arm, but Ed drove like a pro, even with Holly’s drive, but in the center of the fairway.

“I don’t drive it as far as I used to,” Ed said as he climbed into a cart with Holly. Ham followed them in a second cart. “I used to be a scratch golfer in my youth. Now I play to an eleven handicap. What’s yours?”

“Probably around a fourteen; I used to have a twelve, but I’ve been too busy to play.” She turned and looked at him. “I’ve got some news for you,” she said. “Maybe a reason why somebody took a shot at you.”

Ed stopped the cart and looked at her. “Tell me about it.”

“This is only a theory,” she said, “and I won’t know more about it for a few days, but on the day of the evening you were shot at, two Miami property developers were murdered.”

“I read about that in the papers,” Ed said. “Why does that have anything to do with me?”