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“Somebody on my force is working for somebody besides me,” he said. “I don’t know who it is, and I don’t know who he’s working for, but I’ve got some suspicions about that.”
“Drugs?”
“Could be. Could be more than that. Thing is, I don’t have anything like an internal-affairs depa
rtment, so in addition to all your other duties, you’re going to have to be it. You’ll come to the job without any slant on personalities or on who’s doing what, and I think you can be a lot more objective than I can.”
“I see.”
“Does this trouble you?”
“On the contrary. It intrigues me.”
Marley grinned. “Good. Like I say, I don’t want to go into all this right here and now, but I promise, your first day on the job I’ll brief you on everything I know. And by that time, I should know a lot more.”
“Fair enough.”
Marley sighed deeply. “I’m glad I got that off my chest. I was worried it might make some kind of difference to you.”
“Not to worry,” Holly said. She lifted her glass. “To Orchid Beach.”
They all drank again.
CHAPTER
2
H olly drove across the bridge over the sound at the north end of the island and headed down Highway A1A onto the barrier island that contained Orchid Beach. She had already passed Melbourne and Sebastian; Vero Beach lay farther south, on the next island. It was early evening, and she had been driving all day and the day before that, with one uncomfortable night in a cheap motel in between. She was tired.
At first there was little to see on either side of the road; then she began passing impressive sets of gates with the names of communities inscribed on them. At each there was a guard booth and a security officer to screen visitors. Usually, she couldn’t see much of what lay beyond the gates, but she caught an occasional glimpse of large, expensive houses peeking through the live oaks and palms. She rolled down her window and from the east she could hear the roll of the surf, a pleasant sound. The soft, warm subtropical air was a nice change from the cold weather she had left behind.
She came to the business district of the town, with rows of neat small businesses on either side of the road and the occasional motel, usually with a NO VACANCY sign out front. Business looked good. She passed restaurants and dry cleaning establishments and a great many real estate offices; then she was back in residential territory, with small subdivisions that, while less ritzy than those on the north side of town, looked prosperous and comfortable. These usually had gates, but no guards, and the houses were more visible from the road.
Then the terrain became less crowded and after another minute or two she saw a sign for Riverview Park on her right. She turned into the gates, swinging wide to allow the silver trailer behind her to pass in without uprooting a gatepost, and stopped in front of a small structure with a sign outside reading OWNER & MANAGER. She pulled over, switched off the engine, got out of her dark green Jeep Grand Cherokee and went into the building. A plump man in his sixties looked up from behind a desk and smiled.
“Bet I know who you are,” he said, rising and extending his hand. “I’m Johnny Malone, I own the place.”
“I’m Holly Barker,” she said, shaking the hand.
“Sure you are. Chet Marley told me to expect you, and I got your check and the contract in the mail. Come on, follow me; I’ve got a real nice spot picked out for you.” He walked out of the building, hopped into a golf cart and beckoned her to follow.
Holly drove slowly behind the cart, checking out her new neighbors. The trailers and double-wides were all well kept and were often surrounded by flowers and shrubs. Riverside Park looked like a happy place. They drove through a patch of woods, leaving the other tenants behind, and emerged onto a flat piece of ground at the edge of the Indian River, which Holly had learned was what that part of the Inland Waterway was called. Following Malone’s hand signals, she backed the Airstream trailer into its space, then got out and unhitched it from her car. In a few minutes Malone had made the water, sewer, telephone and electrical connections for her, and she had the trailer leveled and braced.
“We got cable TV, if you want it,” Malone said.
“I’ve got one of those little dishes,” Holly said.
“More and more folks do,” he replied. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Not right now,” she replied. “I’m sure I’ll have some questions tomorrow.”
Malone handed her his card. “Here’s my number, and Chet Marley’s home number is on the back. He said you should call him as soon as you get in.”
“I’ll do that,” Holly replied.
Malone drove away in his golf cart, and Holly went into her trailer, switched on some lights and began tidying the things that had shifted during the drive. She was hungry, but she wanted to talk to Marley before dinner. They had talked a number of times during the five weeks it had taken her to retire from the military. She dialed his number.
“Hello?” He sounded rushed.
