Hothouse Orchid (Holly Barker 6)

Jimmy went back to the rear of the car and came back with a plastic-covered book. “Looks like her listings,” he said, then began flipping through the book. “Here we go: J. M. Wald, 2202 Ocean Close, Vero.”

“She sold the Wald house, then. To Jack, maybe?”

“Let’s go find out,” Jimmy said.

Teddy Fay was surfing the Internet, looking for a local source of outdoor furniture, when there was a rap on the front door. Teddy started, alarmed that someone could approach the house without his noticing. Relax, he told himself. He took a deep breath or two, then got up and went to the front door.

An attractive blond young woman stood on the other side of the screen door, a bag slung over one shoulder, a badge in the other hand. “Good morning,” she said. “I’m Lauren Cade, with the Florida State Police. Mr. Smithson, is it?”

Teddy’s mind was working a mile a minute: something to do with the new license, maybe? “Good morning. Yes, I’m Jack Smithson.”

“May I come in and speak to you for a moment, Mr. Smithson?”

“Of course,” Teddy said, opening the door for her. As he turned, he found a young man standing behind him in the living room. He had come in the back door, and Teddy had heard nothing. He was slipping. Brazen it out, he thought. Be cooperative. “I’m sorry, you startled me,” Teddy said.

“I’m Detective Weathers, Orchid Beach Police Department,” the young man said.

“Won’t you sit down?” Teddy asked, indicating the living room sofa.

They sat down, and Teddy took a chair on the other side of the coffee table.

“How can I help you?” he asked.

“Mr. Smithson,” Lauren said, “are you acquainted with Ms. Adele Mason?”

“Yes, I am; she’s the real estate agent who found this house for me.”

“You bought this house?”

“Rented. The Walds, who own the property, don’t have many guests, so they rent the guesthouse. They’re not in Florida at the moment.”

“I see,” Lauren said. “And when did you rent it?”

“Three days ago. It was the first property she showed me, and I thought it was ideal.”

“Where are you from, Mr. Smithson?”

“Here, now. I more recently lived in north Georgia, but I retired and moved down here.”

“When was the last time you saw Ms. Mason?”

“Why, last night. She came for dinner here; I cooked for us.”

“And what time did she leave?”

“Shortly after midnight, I believe.”

“Mr. Smithson, would you submit to a DNA test?” She removed a plastic tube from her purse. “It’s just a swab of the inside of your cheek.”

“Wait just a minute,” Teddy said. “DNA test? For what purpose?”

“For a comparison.”

Teddy’s face fell, and he wasn’t acting. “Has something happened to Adele?”

“I’m afraid so,” Lauren said. “She was murdered some time last night and possibly raped. That’s why we need a DNA sample, to eliminate you as a suspect.”

“My God, she was here only last night. Is this to do with those murders I read about in the local paper?”