Blood Orchid (Holly Barker 3)

His smile turned into a leer, but he didn’t rise to the line. “Where are you staying?”

“Over on South Beach.” She looked at her watch. “In fact, I’d better be going. I’m meeting my boyfriend at our hotel, and I’m late.”

His face fell. “I hope you’ll come back again,” he said. “And alone. I enjoy your company.”

“That’s very kind of you; I’ll keep it in mind. I’m here for a few more days. May I have a check?”

“There is no check,” he said grandly.

“My goodness,” Holly said, batting her eyes. “You’re even kinder than I thought.” She shook his hand, and he held on for a little too long, then she left and went back to the car, feeling that she had only just escaped his further intentions.

At the Delano, Holly checked in, with only a shopping bag for luggage, settled into her room, then called her office and told them where she was. “Don’t give out that information, though,” she said. “Just take a message.”

Then she called Ham. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I’m in Miami for a couple of nights on business,” she said. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Me, worry? You don’t need my permission for a dirty weekend.”

“It’s not a weekend, and it’s not dirty,” she replied. “It’s just a couple of days’ work on a case.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, shut up, Ham. I’ll see you later in the week.” She hung up.

Daisy hopped onto the bed and put her head in Holly’s lap.

“Your grandfather has a dirty mind,” she said. She thought about Grant and wished it was a dirty weekend.

29

Holly slept late and had a good breakfast. She dressed in her new clothes, the first she had bought since Jackson’s death, and took Daisy for a walk, then got into her car. She had nothing to do until evening, so she decided to have another go at Pedro Alvarez.

When she got to his shop, he was with a customer, and she waited, looking carefully at the displays of locks and burglar alarms. She was not surprised that two of the examples on display were identical to the equipment in her house.

Pedro said goodbye to the customer, then approached Holly. “What do you want now?” he asked, his tone unfriendly.

“I want to see Carlos’s guns,” she said.

“Do you have a warrant?” he asked.

“Oh, I can get a warrant, and very quickly,” she replied. “But let me tell you what happens if I get a warrant. I’ll bring a team in here, and we will dismantle this shop and take anything we like away with us, including all the guns we find. Then, if any of them has been used in a crime, or if we find any other violation of the law, I’ll have your l

ocksmith’s license yanked. Now, how do you want to do this?”

“I’ll show you the gun,” he said.

“There’s more than one, Pedro.”

“Carlos had two, a nine-millimeter and a forty-caliber. One of them is missing.” He led her to a large safe in the back room and began opening it.

So Carlos had been carrying, and he might well have been shot with his own gun.

“Here is Carlos’s nine-millimeter,” he said, handing her a Beretta.

It was loaded. She popped out the magazine and ejected one from the breech. “Do you have a paper bag?” she asked.