Stuart Woods Holly Barker Collection

by Stuart Woods

  “Nearly always,” Holly said. “It’s tough when you have a police officer as a repeat criminal; he knows all the investigative techniques and how to avoid leaving trace evidence.”

  “Well, in any case, good riddance,” Teddy said, raising his glass.

  “Good riddance,” they all said, and drank.

  “I have some other news,” Lauren said. “Jack and I are thinking of . . .”

  Teddy held up a hand. “Stop,” he said, laughing, “that’s still a secret.”

  “Does it have to be?” she asked.

  “For the time being.”

  “Oh, all right,” she said.

  “Then your answer is yes?” he asked.

  “That’s still a secret, too,” Lauren said.

  “Holly,” Teddy said, changing the subject as fast as possible, since he didn’t want her to know his plans, “you’re on vacation?”

  “Yes, but I’m having to start thinking about going back.”

  “Have you enjoyed yourself here?”

  “Very much.”

  “Where are you staying?” he asked.

  “Oh, I still have my house here, from the old days,” she said.

  “Are you considering selling?”

  “No. I think I’ll always want it to come back to,” Holly said. “Why? Are you thinking of buying?”

  “Well, I’m renting this guesthouse,” Teddy said, “but it’s getting small fast.”

  “Especially with me around,” Lauren said.

  “That is a factor,” Teddy said, laughing.

  “You wouldn’t want to live in Holly’s house,” Josh said. “It’s like an armored hothouse, with all the improvements her employer has made.”

  Teddy knew about the improvements made for higher-ups in the Agency, but he pretended not to. “Improvements? What kind?”

  “I don’t think we need go into that,” Holly said.

  “It’s top secret, huh?” Teddy asked.

  “No, just not talked about outside the Agency. You’ll have to remember that, Josh.”

  Josh threw up his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m unaccustomed to keeping state secrets.”

  “Don’t make too big a thing of it,” she said.

  “I can see why they would be protective of their people,” Teddy said. “After all, there are terrorists out there who would love to lob a few sticks of dynamite into an American intelligence officer’s bedroom.”

  “Now, that’s a disturbing thought,” Josh said.

  Holly elbowed him in the ribs. “Unless you change the subject, you’re not going to have to worry about the safety of my bedroom.”

  “How ’bout them Gators!” Josh said.

  “That’s too big a change of subject for me,” Teddy said. “The only sport I follow is Tiger Woods, and he’s out for the season.”

  Jimmy Weathers was getting ready for bed when his phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Jimmy, it’s Irma Taggert,” said the chairwoman of the city council.

  Jimmy’s heart sank. She was going to tell him he didn’t get the job. “Good evening, Irma.”

  “I’m sorry to call so late, but we just got out of a very long council meeting about a lot of subjects.”

  “That’s all right, Irma.”

  “I just wanted to be the first to congratulate you; you’re the new Orchid Beach chief of police.”

  Jimmy was stunned. “They voted?”

  “We did, and we voted for you. It was . . . well, nearly unanimous.”

  “I don’t want to know who voted against me,” he said.

  “Then I won’t tell you,” she said.

  “Irma, I really appreciate your confidence, and I hope you’ll pass that along to the others, first chance you get.”

  “I’ll do that, and you’ll get a confirmation in writing tomorrow morning. We’ll have to negotiate a contract, of course, but I can tell you it will be very close to what Bruno got. You’d better hire a lawyer to represent you.”

  “I’ll do that, Irma, and thank you again for letting me know so quickly. I’m not sure I’ll get much sleep tonight, but I’m very, very happy about this.”

  “So am I, Jimmy. Good night.”

  Jimmy hung up the phone and got into bed. He stared at the ceiling, thinking about himself wearing the chief’s badge and sitting in his office with his own secretary. And best of all, he had now made himself completely safe, since he could control any further investigation into the series of rapes and murders.

  All he had to do now was learn to control his impulses.

  Josh and Holly were driving home from Jack Smithson’s house. “I’m sorry I mentioned the fortifications at your house,” he said. “Too much to drink, I guess.”

  “Oh, it’s all right. Part of our training is never to discuss our work, so when somebody does, it sets off alarm bells.”

  “I won’t do it again.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Say, what made you call Jack Smithson ‘Teddy’?”

  “That was kind of strange, wasn’t it? I think that, almost unconsciously, he reminded me of someone else.”

  “Who’s Teddy?”

  “You remember a few years back when an ex-Agency employee went on a killing spree, knocking off various right-wing political figures?”

  “Teddy Fay!”

  “That’s right.”

  “You thought Jack Smithson was Teddy Fay?”

  “Not really. He just sort of fits the general description—that is, he looks like Larry David, on Curb Your Enthusiasm—but so do thousands of other men.”

  “So I don’t have to worry about another serial killer living in the area?”

  “No, you don’t,” Holly said. “If Jack were Teddy, he would never invite me to dinner.”

  Teddy and Lauren were getting into bed. “Why do you think Holly called you ‘Teddy’ at dinner?”

  “Beats me,” Teddy said. “I guess I remind her of some other fatally attractive man—maybe an old boyfriend.”

  “And why did you stop me from talking about our move?”

  “I just don’t want a lot of people talking about that. Why, have you decided to come with me?”

  She sighed. “Maybe.”

  “Keep thinking about it,” Teddy said, “but not talking about it.”

  47

  Holly’s phone rang. She looked at the clock: seven thirty. She found the TV remote control and switched it off, then picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “It’s Lance. Getting sensitive about being seen in bed with a man?”

  “None of your business,” she said.

  “Well, I miss your sunny face.”

  “It’s Sunday morning. What’s up, Lance?”

  “He’s back.”

  “Who’s back?”

  “Whoever is using the Agency mainframe without authority.”

  “What’s he looking for this time?”

  “More on Colonel James Bruno.”

  “Well, there’s good news on that front: Colonel James Bruno ate his gun the night before last and is no longer a problem to anybody.”

  “Did he, now?”

  “He did.”

  “Anyone know why?”

  “He left a note expressing remorse for raping and killing half a dozen women.”

  “You’re sure it’s suicide?”

  “I’m not even sure he’s dead, but I have the word of the Orchid Beach Police Department, which I used to lead, and a special investigative unit of the Florida State Police. Both agencies have investigated thoroughly and confirmed the details.”

  “Lots of tests?”

  “Autopsy, DNA, ballistics—the works. Plus, they found panties in Bruno’s house containing the DNA of each of the victims, along with the vaccination gun he used to subdue them.”

  “Sounds like there’s no doubt.”

  “Not much.”

  “You have doubts?”

  “Not exactly. It was all just a little too pat, but I can’t find any holes in it.”<
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  “How do you feel about the passing of Colonel Bruno?”

  “I regret only that it didn’t occur much sooner.”

  “So he had a bad conscience?”

  “He had enough in his life to have dropped dead of guilt, without benefit of the Glock. Only problem I can see is, he didn’t have a conscience, so why off himself?”

  “I have the impression you think he might have been a victim of homicide?”

  “I think it’s a possibility, but I don’t have a suspect, and neither does anybody else.”

  “How about whoever’s using our mainframe for research on Bruno?”

  “Tell you what, Lance, you name a suspect, and I’ll look into it.”

  “How about your father?” Lance offered.

  Holly sat up in bed.

  “You still there, Holly?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You asked me to name a suspect, and I did, and I haven’t heard a demurral from you.”

  Holly still didn’t speak; she was thinking too hard.

  “I mean, one wouldn’t think Ham would possess the necessary codes to enter our mainframe, but he is close to someone who does. In fact, does he even possess the computer skills to get in, even with the codes?”

  He certainly did, Holly thought. “Ham’s not the guy.”

  “You didn’t answer my question, Holly.”

  “Even with the skills, he wouldn’t have the codes.”

  “If you say so. To tell you the truth, I couldn’t care less who terminated Colonel Bruno, even if it’s only himself.”

  “I couldn’t care less, either. Well, maybe a little, just out of curiosity.”

  “You and I both know that’s not so, Holly. I mean, you may not care who killed Bruno, but you always care and care deeply about getting it right.”

  “Put Bruno out of your mind, Lance,” Holly said. “And Ham, too.”

  “If you wish.”

  “I wish.”

  “There is just one small thing I think you would want to know.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Oh, yes,” Lance said.

  “And what would that be?”

  “Our geek was finally able to establish the exact locale from which the intruder was operating.”

  “And where would that be?”

  “Though not a street address.”

  “From where is the intruder operating, Lance?”

  “From Vero Beach, Florida. Or its environs.”

  Silence.

  “Orchid Beach would qualify as environs of Vero Beach, wouldn’t it?”

  “Goodbye, Lance.” Holly hung up the phone and sat, staring, at the blank television screen.

  Josh grunted and turned over. “Everything okay?”

  “I don’t know,” Holly replied, getting out of bed and into her jeans.

  “You going someplace?” he asked.

  “To my father’s house.”

  “I was sort of looking forward to a Sunday morning in bed.”

  She leaned over and kissed him. “You stay right there,” she said, “and I’ll be back. There’s something I have to ask Ham.”

  “How about you ask him by phone.”

  “I want to look him in the eye,” she said.

  Ham was on the back porch, doing something to his fishing tackle while Ginny was busy in the kitchen.

  “Hey, Ham,” she said, pulling up a chair until she was knee to knee with him.

  “Hey, Sugar.”

  “Ham, did you shoot Jim Bruno?”

  Ham stopped fiddling with the tackle and looked straight at her. “Not yet,” he said.

  “I guess you haven’t heard yet.”

  “I haven’t read the paper this morning. Did somebody cheat me out of killing him?”

  “Yeah. Maybe him.”

  “Figures,” Ham said. “The man was a coward, through and through.”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “Details, please?”

  Holly told him everything.

  “How come you think he didn’t do it to himself?”

  “I don’t know yet. It hasn’t gelled.”

  “You think it’s going to gel?”

  “Eventually.”

  “Good luck. You want to stay for Sunday dinner? Ginny has a roast in the oven.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got something cooking myself.”

  48

  Holly got back to the house and found Josh, wearing only an apron, in the kitchen.

  “Did you get your question asked?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She kissed him and pinched him on the ass.

  “Gee, thanks. Get the answer you wanted?”

  “Yep.”

  “Happy now?”

  “Nope.”

  “Will eggs Benedict help?”

  “Couldn’t hurt.”

  “Then pull up a stool, have some orange juice and tell me your problem.”

  Holly sat down and sipped her juice. “I don’t think Bruno was a suicide, but I’m not sure why I think that.”

  “Do I get to play policeman again?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Okay, who had a motive?”

  “I did, and so did Lauren.”

  “Do you want to answer the next question, or do you want a lawyer?”

  “Ask.”

  “Did you kill Bruno?”

  “No,” she said.

  “That leaves Lauren. Anything else I can do to help?”

  “Lauren didn’t kill him; she’s living with Jack, and she would have to have left in the middle of the night and come back without waking him. Anyway, she didn’t do it. I know that.”

  “Can you prove she didn’t do it?”

  “If I had to. Just take my word for it.”

  “Okay, Lauren is eliminated as a suspect on your personal say-so. Who else we got?”

  “Nobody,” Holly said. “At least, nobody who makes any sense as a suspect.”

  “Who else had anything to do with declaring Bruno a suicide?”

  “Hurd Wallace and Jimmy Weathers were investigators. The medical examiner and a forensics guy were there, too.”

  “Any of them got a motive?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Any of them have anything to gain by Bruno’s death?”

  “No, I don’t . . .” she stopped.

  “Think of somebody?”

  “Well,” she said, “Jimmy got Bruno’s job.”

  “I think this is where I’m supposed to say people have killed for less.”

  “Yeah.”

  “People have killed for less.”

  “Good point, but I don’t make Jimmy for a murderer. Unless he had more motive than that.”

  “Did he hate Bruno’s guts?”

  “Any thinking person would.”

  “Okay, that’s two motives.”

  “But the time line doesn’t work. We talked about that before, right?”

  “Right. Maybe he did it at a time that wasn’t our time line.”

  “When?”

  “When did the ME say that Bruno died?”

  “Something like midnight to four a.m.”

  “How’s that for a time line. Does that work for Jimmy?”

  “If it did, that would have given him time to write the suicide note.”

  “Does Jimmy live with anybody?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I guess you ought to find out whether he has an alibi, then, ’cause I’m starting to like him for the homicide. Isn’t that what they say on the TV shows?”

  “Yeah.” Holly got her address book and dialed up the home number for Jane Grey, who was the secretary at the station.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Jane, it’s Holly. I’m sorry to disturb you on a Sunday morning.”

  “That’s okay, Holly, but I’ve got to go to church in a minute.”

  “I just have a couple of questions. Do you know if Jimmy Weathers lives with anybody?”

 
“Yes, he lives with his mother.”

  “Does he have a girlfriend?”

  “Not that I know of. He’s always looking for dates, though. I don’t think he gets many.”

  “Okay, thanks, Jane. You go on to church.”

  “Why do you want to know about Jimmy, Holly?”

  “I can’t say right now, but please don’t tell him I asked.”

  “All right. Bye-bye.” Jane hung up.

  Josh turned on the Cuisinart and started adding butter to the egg yolks. “So?”

  “Jimmy lives with his mother.”

  “Didn’t you once say that one thing in the serial killer profile is that he would probably live with his mother?”

  “Yes, I did. And something else: Jimmy doesn’t have a girlfriend, and he told me he did. When we were down at the marina after Daisy and I found that body on the beach. Jimmy lied to me, and Jimmy has a boat.”

  “Maybe he just didn’t want to admit he didn’t have a girlfriend.”

  “No. I didn’t ask him; he volunteered it. Said he and his girlfriend like to go out on his boat together.”

  “So now do we suspect Jimmy of more than killing Bruno?”

  “In theory,” Holly said. “I want to know if he has an alibi.”

  “How are you going to find out?”

  Holly checked her address book again and dialed, this time on speaker phone, so Josh could hear. She motioned for him to turn off the Cuisinart.

  “Hurd Wallace.”

  “Hurd, what are you doing at your desk on a Sunday morning?”

  “Hey, Holly. You know how it is; I’m just going over all the reports on Bruno again.”

  “Anything in there cast any doubt on the suicide?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “But you’re beginning to doubt it, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure why.”

  “I’m thinking the same thing. Any anomalies in the reports?”

  Josh spoke up. “Hurd, it’s Josh Harmon. In the ME’s report, what did the blood work say?”

  There was a shuffling of papers on Hurd’s desk. “Blood alcohol was two point four, three times the legal limit for driving. And he had taken at least two Ambien.”

  “There’s your anomaly,” Josh said.

  “How’s that?” Hurd asked.

  “Nobody could stay awake long with that combination in his bloodstream.”

  “He could have shot himself before the Ambien took effect,” Hurd said.