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“The FBI tells me both those guys were going to bid on Palmetto Gardens.”
“Blood Orchid, please,” Ed said, holding up a hand.
“Okay, Blood Orchid. Tell me, Ed, who knew you were going to bid on the property?”
“Wait a minute.” Ed shook his head. “When you bid on a property the General Services Administration is selling, nobody knows who’s bidding or how much they’re bidding; that’s all very secret. You make your judgment of the value of the property, enter your bid, and hope for the best. Property development is a pretty cutthroat business,” he said. “I could tell you some stories. But two murders?”
“Three,” Holly said, “but for the grace of God.”
Ed laughed and shook his head again. “Nah, couldn’t happen. No piece of property is worth that, especially this piece.”
“This piece of property looks pretty good to me,” Holly said.
“Not from a developer’s point of view. Orchid Beach is out of the way, not like Boca or Palm Beach—not even like Vero. This land in Boca or Palm Beach, with three golf courses already constructed and fifty houses built, would cost, what, two hundred million? Maybe more.”
“If it’s not so hot, why are you so hot on it?”
Ed held up some fingers: “One, because I live here; two, because the price was right; and three, because I had the money from the sale of my business. With me, it’s almost a hobby; I don’t have any overhead to speak of, though I’ve opened an office and am hiring a couple of salesmen. Also, since the place already has the important elements in place, it won’t take me twenty years to develop it.” He smiled. “At my age, twenty years would be too long. Nope, in five years, I’ll have this place roaring, and I’ll have my own little kingdom to rule. That’s how I’ll spend the rest of my life.”
“Hey!” Ham called from his cart across the course. “Golf, anyone?”
Back at her office, Holly couldn’t stand it anymore. She called the Miami detective.
“Hi, this is Chief Holly Barker, in Orchid Beach.”
“Afternoon, Chief.”
“Did you get my cartridge casing?”
“Yep.”
“Was it a match for yours?”
“Yep.”
Her theory suddenly held a lot of water. “What’s your next step?”
“I don’t have one,” Connor said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m off the case, as of half an hour ago.”
“Why?”
“Because the FBI went to the chief of detectives and took it away from me. You want any more, call Harry Crisp, over at their Miami office.”
“I’ll do that, Jim,” Holly said, and hung up. She immediately called Harry.
“Hello, Holly,” Harry Crisp said. “I was expecting to hear from you.”
“I guess Connor told you about my matching cartridge case, before you snatched the file from him.”
“Yes, he did, and I had every right to do that. The case now has federal ramifications, since it was the federal government that was selling Palmetto Gardens.”
“Blood Orchid,” Holly said.
“What?”
