Iron Orchid (Holly Barker 5)

“Is it Teddy?”

“I don’t think so,” she said drily. “Too old, too frail. He’s had a knee replacement. He’s wearing an obvious toupee, and I don’t think Teddy would be obvious. How did you do?”

“Nothing,” he said. “You want to get something to eat?”

“No, I’m enjoying the opera; I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, good night.”

“Good night.” She closed the phone, found the ladies’ room, then returned to her seat.

THE OPERA ENDED, and Holly was in tears. She hadn’t expected this. “Had you seen La Boheme before?” Hy asked, as they made their way up the aisle.

“No, I haven’t been to the opera before.”

“Were you waiting for someone?” he asked.

“Yes, a girlfriend; we were going to try to get last-minute seats, but she didn’t show, and you made me a better offer.”

“How about some dinner?” he asked.

“If you’ll forgive me, I’m pretty tired. I think I’d better get home.”

“Can I drop you?” They were outside now.

“No, it’s not far; I’ll walk.” That should ditch him, with his knee. “Thank you so much for the seat. I loved the opera, and I appreciate it very much.”

“Perhaps again next Friday night?”

“I’m afraid I’ll be in London by then.” He was sweet, but boring and way too old for her.

“Then I wish you a happy trip.”

“Thank you, goodbye.”

He turned and made his way down the steps toward the street, and she used the moment to check out the departing crowd. No Teddy.

Then, as she was turning to go, she saw Hyman Baum jogging toward the curb rather athletically, waving his cane at a taxi. He jumped in, and the cab drove away.

Holly was halfway home in her own cab before the penny dropped.

TWENTY-SIX

HOLLY FOUND LANCE the following morning in the twelfth-floor dining room having breakfast. “Good morning,” she said, “do you mind if I join you? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Please sit down,” Lance said, handing her a menu. She gave the waitress her breakfast order, then turned back to Lance. She was very uncomfortable with this.

“How are you and Ty working out as partners?” he asked.

“I like him,” she said. “He’s bright and willing, even if he is a little stiff.”

“FBI men are often stiffs,” Lance said.

“The difference in our ages bothers me a little,” she said.

“Holly, I didn’t ask you to sleep with him.”

“That’s not what I mean. You see, we can’t work pretending to be a couple, and we don’t look like sister and younger brother, either; we just don’t look right together, and it complicates things a little.”