Dream of Orchids

by Phyllis A. Whitney

  As usual, Eddie Burch seemed to have an ambivalence toward Alida—perhaps drawn to her, yet resenting her at the same time. A touch of malice came through when he spoke again.

  “You weren’t up there, Alida—not when everything started to happen. I saw you heading forward right after we were boarded.”

  Alida looked as though she might go to pieces all over again, and that wouldn’t help us now.

  “What matters right this minute,” I reminded her, “is what to do about Eddie. Do you have any ideas?”

  With immediate pressure removed, Alida relaxed a little, though she threw a nervous glance at Eddie. “I don’t know what to do about anything. I shouldn’t even be here now, wasting my time. I ought to get on with typing Cliff’s manuscript.”

  “Eddie wanted you to know,” Marcus told her quietly. “He has a lot of confidence in your good sense, Alida. Anyway, Laurel’s right. We need to figure out where Eddie can hide safely for a while. If you want me to, I can keep him here for a few days. We need you to stay around, Eddie. You’re a big part of the case against Derek.”

  Eddie squirmed uneasily, and I suspected that he was a weak link in whatever chain Marcus might be welding. Eddie Burch had reason to hate Derek, but he was mainly interested in saving his own neck. Now, however, he seemed to make up his mind about something.

  “Okay, I’ll lie low for a few days and keep out of Derek’s sight. But not permanently. I got a score to settle with him myself. Anyway, I need to get something right away, Marcus. In the yard at Cliff’s house—something I hid there that time I came to see Alida. I need to dig it out to show you. Maybe we could get over there before Derek moves in?”

  “Evidence?” Marcus asked.

  “Maybe. I swiped it from Derek’s cabin on the Dolphin—a lot of dates and navigational directions.”

  Marcus spoke sharply. “Why didn’t you bring it right to me?”

  At times Eddie had a way of looking brightly innocent. “No chance to get it till now—that’s all.”

  Or perhaps he’d been playing both sides and waiting to see where his advantage lay?

  “Well, let’s get it now, and I’ll see what you’ve found,” Marcus said, and I knew that the same thought had occurred to him.

  Before we could leave, someone knocked at the door, and Marcus went to open it a crack. I heard Iris’s voice from the hall, and Eddie ducked into the bathroom out of sight.

  “I need to talk to you, Marcus,” Iris said.

  He opened the door. “Sure. Come on in and join the party.”

  If she felt dismayed at the sight of Alida and me, she hid it as she sauntered into the room, looking beautifully cool and contained. Again I noticed the flash of the large sapphire on her right hand—the ring that had belonged to Poppy.

  “What’s up?” Marcus asked, bringing another chair for her.

  “I hadn’t planned on making a public statement,” she said. “It can wait till you’re not busy.”

  Before Marcus could answer, Eddie came out of the bathroom, looking disreputable and much too cocky. Perhaps, like Derek, he liked the edge of danger.

  Iris gasped at the sight of him, and he grinned. “Right—it’s me. They fished me out of the ocean, and I came back to Key West by the first boat I could catch.”

  “Does Derek know you’re here?”

  “Not yet, he doesn’t.”

  “Then I’d better phone him right away. He’ll want any information you can give him.”

  “I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t know who threw me overboard.”

  “Let me use your phone, Marcus,” Iris said.

  Marcus put his hand over hers as she started to pick up the phone. “Just wait a minute. It’s possible it was Derek who had Eddie thrown into the water from the Aurora, so don’t be in a hurry to call him.”

  “I don’t believe that. I must call him.”

  Her affection for Derek, if it had faltered briefly, had clearly returned, and she was again on his side.

  “Let’s talk a bit first,” Marcus said, and she turned reluctantly from the phone and listened while he explained the plan to keep Eddie with him for a few days, and asked her to wait about telling Derek. He didn’t mention any possible drug-running information.

  She heard him through, frowning, undoubtedly torn between what she felt was loyalty to Derek and what Marcus wanted of her.

  “I don’t know,” she said when he finished. “You’re suspicious of Derek—and that’s wrong. He’s lost everything, and he needs my help and support right now.”

  Eddie had begun to squirm again. He was suspicious of us all, except perhaps for Marcus. Alida watched Iris as though she was intent on reading something that wasn’t evident to me.

  “Iris, will you at least go along with this for a day or so?” Marcus asked.

  She gave him a lost look from great dark eyes, and I could see him melting. “All right. I’ll trust you, Marcus. I have to.”

  “Then it’s settled,” he said. “Eddie wants to pick up something over at the house, so I’ll drive you all home, if you like. Then I’ll bring him back here.”

  Iris didn’t move as the rest of us rose to leave. “I haven’t told you what I came to say, Marcus. I’m going to marry Derek at the end of this week. We have the license, and it’s all set. I—I wanted to tell you myself.”

  Alida ran to put her arms around Iris. “No—you can’t do this! You mustn’t. Poppy had every reason to know that Derek can’t be trusted. You know what her reasons were.”

  Coolly, Iris withdrew herself from Alida’s arms. “I only know what you’ve told me. Derek needs me more than ever now.”

  “I can stop you,” Alida said.

  Iris shook her head. “I don’t think so. No one can.”

  I watched Marcus’s concern for her with a growing sense of loss. There had been times when he and I had enjoyed being together. He’d even looked at me as though something real was coming to life between us. But now, more than ever, I knew how little it had meant. Rebounds were dangerous. Trying to heal one’s wounds with a new, lesser love never worked for either one.

  In the car, Alida and I sat in back, with Eddie between us, and Marcus put Iris in the front seat. There was no comfort for me in knowing that she would soon be lost to Marcus. He was still in love with her, and I didn’t want to witness his pain or admit my own. We might easily be drawn into comforting each other, and that wasn’t what I wanted.

  At the house we left the car in a hurry, in order to get Eddie out of sight. Marcus came with us, still helping Iris. Since I was ahead, I was the first one to step through the front door. As I did so, Derek Phillips came out of the living room. He gave me an appraising look and stared past me at the others. There was no way now to hide Eddie Burch.

  Derek pounced on him at once. “When did you get back? Why didn’t you get in touch with me?”

  Iris drooped on Marcus’s arm, and Alida closed her eyes, rejecting what was happening. Eddie looked as though he might have bolted if Derek hadn’t taken hold of his collar.

  That was too much. “Leave Eddie alone!” I cried. “He’s half starved, and he’s sick. He doesn’t remember anything clearly right now, and he needs to rest before you ask him questions. He’s going to stay with Marcus for a few days.”

  “I’ll decide what to do about Eddie,” Derek said.

  “It’s already been decided,” I told him.

  Marcus spoke quietly. “You’d better listen to Laurel, Derek.”

  Derek seemed to enjoy being angry. Once he might have frightened me, but now I had to stand my ground.

  “You have to accept the way it is,” I told him.

  “You haven’t any authority in this house,” Derek snapped.

  “Oh, yes she has!” Fern had come running down the hall from the back garden. “Laurel’s our older sister, and she’s got better sense than Iris or me. She’s in charge here, and what she says goes. Isn’t that right, Alida? Isn’t that right, Iris?”


  I wasn’t sure how lasting any support from Fern would be, but it was welcome right now.

  Alida opened her eyes and stared at Derek. “You really must let Eddie get some rest—Laurel’s right. And he’s not going anywhere.”

  Iris had said nothing, and Eddie solved the impasse neatly by going limp in Derek’s hands and slumping to the floor. Marcus picked him up and carried him over to the couch.

  For the first time Iris stirred herself. “It will be all right, Derek. He’ll be there when you want him.” She threw me a quick look that carried an unexpected appeal for help.

  “That’s the way it has to be for now, Derek,” I said.

  He wasn’t the accepting sort, and he stalked out of the house without a word for any of us. I suspected that he would never take defeat—he’d simply attack from a different direction. It was easy to believe that he’d had Eddie thrown overboard, for his own reasons.

  Iris dropped into a chair, clearly shaken by the fact that she too had stood up against Derek. But I could imagine what might lie ahead, with Derek moving in, marrying Iris, carrying out successfully whatever illegal affairs he was mixed up in—and turning Iris into a helpless victim. Unless he could be exposed very soon and his plans thwarted, we’d all be under his tyranny, and there could be much worse to come. In the meantime, I meant to ally myself with Iris and try to strengthen her beginning rebellion.

  Marcus had bent over her, but now he looked at me, and I saw approval in his eyes. “You’re doing what Cliff wanted, I knew you had it in you.”

  I hadn’t known myself, so why should he? Anyway, whether I liked it or not, I’d been put in very shaky charge, so that others were looking to me for help and support. All I could do was try.

  Alida and Marcus took Eddie outside, since he’d recovered as soon as Derek was gone, and I supposed he would retrieve whatever he’d hidden there. Iris, still looking stricken and bewildered, went off to her room. Fern stayed behind, her eyes shining.

  “You didn’t let him bully us, Laurel! I wanted to applaud.”

  “Save that for later,” I said. “We haven’t done anything yet.”

  How did one ever know what was the wise thing to do at any crucial moment? If cruel actions could destroy, so could foolish ones.

  I remembered Cliff’s words in his journal: Our mistakes are always paid for. The cost of mistakes could be high, and that was frightening.

  Fern slipped a hand through my arm. “Come help me with my orchids, Laurel.”

  All I could do was try, I thought again, as I went with her to the orchid house.

  14

  This was the night when we were to work on the display of orchids at West Martello. Derek was with us at dinner, having moved into the house the previous evening, to the distress of everyone except Iris. Her brief rebellion seemed to be over, and she was acquiescent with Derek, yet strangely indifferent. Except for Marcus, who hadn’t been invited, everyone was at the table. Even Alida had come down to join us for the meal.

  I still felt doggedly determined, in spite of Derek’s open opposition, and once more I began to push for answers.

  “That night on the Aurora”—I spoke to him directly—“I’m sure I saw someone standing with my father before he went into the water. Apparently others saw this person too, though nobody wants to talk about it. Did you see anything, Derek? Anything that would give us an answer?” All I wanted was to prod him and watch his reaction.

  He rejected my question without much interest. “I had my hands full with all that was happening. Anyway, what does it matter now?”

  I persisted. “I suppose any of us on board that evening could have been with him. So why doesn’t anyone want to admit it? Until we know who it was, and what happened, we won’t know what caused Cliff’s heart attack.”

  My own words brought the scene back to me sharply—that sense of darkness and confusion, the shouting and shots, and the movement of the slanting deck. I remembered the way I’d been tripped and had fallen. I remembered the last glimpse I’d had of my father, never dreaming that I’d never see him alive again. Pain could strike so swiftly, and I was never on guard.

  “It could have been one of the crew, I suppose,” Alida said.

  I doubted that, since Derek’s men were all occupied at the time with the boarding. In any case, it was no use. Whoever held the secret wasn’t vulnerable to my prodding.

  Right after dinner, Derek left for his bar, and the rest of us went to work helping Fern load her selection of orchids into Iris’s station wagon. With Derek gone, Eddie had come over to help us, summoned by Alida.

  A tension seemed to have grown between him and Iris. By this time, I was well aware that her cool, subdued manner, even her indifference, could hide a passion of emotions, and I caught a glimpse of her anger as we carried orchids out to the car. She avoided being near Eddie, but once when he nearly dropped a pot, she spoke to him sharply, and I saw him scowl.

  At least I found that tonight I could treat the orchids merely as beautiful plants. Once we were away from the orchid house and its uneasy atmosphere, the flowers seemed innocuous, and my imagination was quiet for a time.

  I knew a good deal of fascinating history about the East and West Martello towers by now. They were copies of invincible Corsican fortresses built in Europe’s Middle Ages. East Martello had survived best and was now a museum and home of the Art and Historical Society. West Martello had supposedly been used for target practice by the U.S. Army before World War I, and much of it lay in ruin when restoration began. The very ruins had been plundered over the years for their bricks.

  The site where the West Martello had been built was itself historical in a terrible way. This was where yellow fever victims had been buried as well as slaves who had died in ships coming over from Africa. Some four hundred bodies had been uncovered by construction workers, who couldn’t take it and walked off the job. Nevertheless, the fort was built.

  Originally, Congress had authorized the building of four forts—Fort Jefferson at Dry Tortugas, Fort Taylor at Key West, and the two Martellos. The Union officer in charge of the construction program (and the Army forces in Key West) took control of the city by taking over Fort Taylor. This in spite of the island’s pro-Confederate sentiments. It remained the only Southern city that never left the Union, and its strategic position as the Gibraltar of the West caused some to believe that if the Confederates had taken Key West, the outcome of the war might have been a stalemate.

  By 1955 both forts were long obsolete. Key West’s Garden Club, looking for a more suitable home, arranged to use West Martello. Members went to work clearing out trash, rubble, and vermin and got rid of a forest of high weeds. New plants and trees had turned the enclosure of the fort into a tropical garden, with paths winding through. Now the place was an attraction for visitors and enjoyed by Key Westers.

  The flower show had come to be held in March every other year, but special displays were put on the year round. Poppy York had of course been a member of the Garden Club, as were her daughters, and she’d loved to provide orchids once or twice a year. This was the project that Fern and Iris intended to carry out in their mother’s honor. The display would be set up this evening, after West Martello closed for the day.

  I found the old fortress a gloomy, unnerving place in my present mood. Lights had been left burning for us inside, and a big wooden door with great locks and hinges was opened for us by the woman curator, who was just leaving.

  Because a hill of earth covered one side of the fort, I had the feeling of going underground when I went through the door. A row of vaulted rooms—casemates—reached out from the entry room, connected by narrow brick archways that were windowless. This was a type of construction that went back to Roman days, hundreds of years before steel and concrete and much too vulnerable for today’s weapons.

  The floor under my feet was slate, and rosy bricks formed the walls. Overhead more bricks arched the low ceilings, and the air seemed cool and still—oppressive. Our
voices reverberated in an unsettling way, as though the farther reaches of the fort held a chattering but invisible throng. Plants and flowers softened the harsh quality of the rooms, but for me it seemed a haunted place, burdened with tragic memories.

  Excited about what she was doing, Fern had led the way in eagerly, carrying pots of orchids. The rest of us followed, bringing in more boxes of plants. The place assigned for the Poppy York display was one of the old fireplaces built deep into the walls—fireplaces intended not for warmth, but for the heating of cannon balls.

  “I wish I could have been at the first Garden Club show,” Fern said. “Though of course it wasn’t held here in those days. The judges were Ernest Hemingway, Elmer Davis, and John Dos Passos. With the help of what they called Southernmost Swill Punch, I guess they got carried away and pinned a ribbon on every exhibit in the show. There were write-ups in papers all around the country. Famous people are always getting Key West into the spotlight. Like my father.”

  Though Iris made some attempt to help and would have been as expert as Fern in doing the arrangement, she seemed at times like a somnambulist, drifting in some dream that held her in its spell. I suspected that her thoughts were mostly with Derek, but I’d begun to wonder what course they were taking, and if some of the bloom had worn off her infatuation.

  Only when her eyes rested on Eddie was there a spark that seemed ready to burst into flame. Once when I caught her alone for a moment, I asked what was the matter—what had Eddie done to make her so angry?

  For an instant she looked startled because I’d read her so well. Then she whispered, “Don’t trust him. He’ll make trouble if he can. Derek thinks he’s up to something. And he’s brought Alida nothing but unhappiness.”

  Her words shocked me—more for their intensity than for what she said. When she saw my reaction, she tried to laugh, as though she’d meant nothing serious. Yet I had the strong feeling that currents were moving in Iris that she still held dammed. I wondered if she even knew their true direction. Perhaps not Eddie, but something else was making her angry. The spark never seemed to last, though, for she dropped quickly into apathy again.