Iron Orchid (Holly Barker 5)

“What?” Kerry asked.

“A man on a motor scooter shot Hadji Asaam fifteen minutes ago, while your two agents watched. He got away in the rush-hour traffic”

Holly and Ty exchanged a glance.

“Well, Holly,” Kerry said, “it looks like your theory of how Teddy chooses targets might be pretty good.”

Holly felt a warm glow inside. “If it is, then we’d better beef up surveillance on Ali Tarik and Carla Mujarik.”

“Done,” Kerry said.

FORTY

HOLLY STOOD AND WATCHED the young man through the one way mirror of the interrogation room. He looked worried and baffled; the contents of his pockets lay on the table before him. She opened the door, walked into the room and sat down, opening a thin file folder and regarding it for half a minute before speaking.

“Your name is Bernard Taylor?” she asked.

“That’s right.”

“Bernard, you own a Vespa motor scooter with the New York State tag number 1059, is that correct?”

“Yeah, uh, or at least it was until earlier today.”

Holly tried to look disgusted. “Come on, Bernard, you’re not going to tell me it was stolen earlier today.”

“No. Uh, I sold it. Earlier today.”

Holly shook her head. “Let me put you straight, Bernard.”

“You can call me Bernie; everybody does.”

“Listen to me, Bernard. You’re about to be arrested as an accessory to a murder. Do you know what sentence you could get as an accessory?”

“No. Uh, I mean, I didn’t commit any murder.”

“We’re not saying you pulled the trigger, Bernard, just that you supplied the motor scooter. As an accessory, you get the same sentence the murderer does, and in New York, that’s the death penalty.”

“All I did was sell my motor scooter!” Bernie wailed.

Holly poked among the pile of his pocket contents on the table and her finger stopped on an envelope. “What does this envelope contain?” she asked, though she already knew.

“The money from the sale of the scooter,” Bernie replied.

Holly opened the envelope, removed the contents and quickly counted thirty one-hundred-dollar bills. “Three thousand dollars,” she said. “Bernard, is that your price for participation in a cold blooded murder? You came cheap.”

“No, ma’am,” Bernie said, “It’s my price for my scooter. That’s what the guy paid me.”

“All right,” Holly sighed. “Tell me your story for the record. Just for your information, you’re being recorded.”

Bernie related the details of the sale of his motor scooter, while Holly took notes.

“His name was Jeff Snyder?” Holly asked.

“That’s what he said.”

“What I.D. did he show you?”

“Nothing. I didn’t ask for nothing. He had the money; that was all the I.D. I cared about.”