Iron Orchid (Holly Barker 5)

“Are you in the clear?”

“Yes, I’m certain of it. I made sure there was no tail. There’s not much traffic around here this time of night.”

“No vans or RVs in sight?” he asked getting up from the table while continuing to talk. He put a twenty-dollar bill on the table and left.

“There’s an RV in the restaurant side of the lot,” she said.

“That one’s all right; I checked it out. What’s your room number?”

“Ten, all the way at the end.”

He kept walking. “Leave the door ajar.”

“All right.”

He stepped up to the door and opened it.

“Jesus!” she said, pocketing her phone. “You scared me; I didn’t expect you so quickly.”

“I couldn’t wait,” he said, putting his arms around her waist.

“I wanted to be naked and in bed when you walked in,” she said.

“We can fix that right now.” In a moment they were making love.

When they had finished, Teddy had relaxed a little. If they were out there, they wouldn’t have waited this long to break in. “Where’s the disk?” he asked.

“In my handbag, on the desk,” she said.

Teddy retrieved the disk. “I’ve got to get going,” he said, sitting on the side of the bed and kissing her. “I’d love to stay and do it all again, but I really have to go and get to work on this disk.”

“I understand; it’s all right.”

“It’s better if I go first.”

She kissed him again. “You go ahead. Call me when you can.”

Teddy got into his clothes, slipped the disk into his jacket pocket, kissed her and checked outside. All quiet. He stepped out the door and walked slowly toward the parking lot, checking for trouble. His was the only vehicle in the restaurant’s lot; they had closed, and it was dark around the RV. His heart pounding, he got into the RV, started it and drove off. Nobody followed. After a few minutes, he settled down and drove on toward New York.

He had to stop these all nighters; they were wearing. And he had the opera the following evening.

TWENTY-FIVE

HOLLY STOOD OUTSIDE the Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center and watched the flow of people as they arrived for the performance. It was cold, and she snugged her muffler tighter and turned up her coat collar.

She had seen two or three men alone who might have fit the description of Teddy Fay, but they had all met women and had gone in as couples. Ty was over at the New York City Opera, doing the same thing, and she wondered if this was a productive use of their time.

She spotted another candidate for Teddy, a man in a tuxedo who appeared and began loitering around the door, just as she was doing. Too athletic-looking, she decided finally. Probably around fifty.

“Excuse me,” a man’s voice said from behind

her.

Holly turned to find an elderly gentleman standing there, and she sized him up quickly. Mid-seventies, slim, carrying an aluminum cane and wearing an obvious toupee. Too old.

“Yes?” she asked.

“You’ve been standing here for some time, and I wondered if you were looking for a ticket.” Reedy voice, New York accent. “I have an extra ticket, and I’d be pleased if you’d join me as my guest.”