Blood Orchid (Holly Barker 3)

“Not really.”

“Harry, you’re being evasive.”

“Holly, you know I can’t talk to you about our investigation.”

“I put you on this guy, Harry, and now you’re holding out on me?”

“My hands are tied, Holly.”

“So, I guess I’ll have to hold out on you, too.”

“You can’t do that, Holly; that’s impeding a federal investigation. There could be an obstruction charge. Now tell me what you know.”

“I did that yesterday, Harry, and I haven’t learned anything new since then.”

“You’ll keep me posted, though?”

“Don’t hold your breath, Harry.” She hung up, incensed.

Her secretary handed her a message: the name and phone number of the funeral directors who had collected Carlos Alvarez’s body. Holly dialed the number.

“Good afternoon, Serene Rest,” an oleaginous male voice said.

“Good afternoon,” Holly said smoothly. “Can you tell me when the Carlos Alvarez services will be held?”

“Are you a family member?”

“No, just an acquaintance; I’d like to pay my respects.”

“Viewing will be tomorrow morning between ten and noon. Services are at two o’clock at the Santa Maria church, with burial to follow in the churchyard.” He gave her the address.

“Thank you so much,” Holly said. “I’d like to send flowers, too. Can you tell me the name of his fiancée?”

“The next of kin is Mr. Pedro Alvarez,” the man said guardedly.

“Yes, but he also had a fiancée, Miss . . .” She hoped he would fill in the blank, but he didn’t.

“You may send any floral arrangements here,” he said.

“Thank you. Goodbye.”

Holly didn’t like funerals, but she wasn’t going to miss this one.

When Holly got home that evening there was a note on her door. I’m all better, it read. How about I bring over a pizza this evening around seven?

She looked at her watch; it was a quarter to seven. She fed Daisy and let her out alone, then ran for the shower. She had just dried her hair and was putting on a sexy cotton shift when the doorbell rang. She ran down the stairs, happy to greet him.

A pizza deliveryman stood on her doorstep. “Delivery, prepaid,” he said, handing her the box with an envelope taped to the top.

“Then I assume you’re pre-tipped, too,” Holly said, snatching the box from him and closing the door. She set down the pizza on the coffee table and opened the envelope.

Sorry, but duty calls, it read. I hope to be through not too late. I’ll call you when I’m free.

“Oh, you will, will you?” Holly said aloud. “You son of a bitch!” She let Daisy in, then got a beer and sat down at the coffee table, switching on the evening news. From the local station menu on the satellite service, she chose a Fort Lauderdale station. The pizza smelled fantastic. She began to eat greedily.

She watched ten minutes of traffic and weather and was about to switch channels when a picture of Carlos Alvarez appeared on-screen.