Blood Orchid

41

The deliveryman stepped into the room, a pizza in one hand and a small submachine gun in the other. Daisy hit him from the side, knocking him off his feet, just as he began to fire.

Grant grabbed for the weapon and diverted it from where Holly sat. She grabbed her pistol from the coffee table and fired twice at the deliveryman, aiming as much away from Daisy and Grant as she could. The pizza man stopped firing, and Grant held up a hand. “Hold your fire!”

Holly ran around the sofa, her gun still pointed at the man. As she kicked his weapon away from him, more fire erupted from outside the house. “Stay, Daisy!” she yelled. She didn’t want the dog to run outside and directly into fire. She flattened herself against the door jamb and took a quick look outside, snatching her head back. As she did, she heard the spinning of tires on gravel and saw the shadow of a car heading up her driveway toward A1A.

“Pizza man’s dead,” Grant said. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Holly panted, “how about you?”

“My pride is wounded, nothing else. How could I let that happen?”

“We were expecting pizza,” Holly said. She looked out the door again. “Seems to be all clear.”

“Where’s the real pizza guy?” Grant asked.

“Oh, no,” Holly said, stepping outside. She ran to the driveway and saw a car parked near the top. As she approached it, gun in hand, a figure got out of the car. “Freeze, police!” she yelled. And the figure stopped moving.

She came closer and found a young man holding his head, which was bleeding. “Who are you?” she demanded.

“Pizza delivery,” he said. “What happened?”

“You come with me,” she said, taking his arm and pulling him down the driveway.

Finally, the police, the ambulance, the crime-scene tech, the medical examiner, the pizza man, and the corpse had left the house.

“Jesus, what an evening,” Grant said, picking up the pizza and examining it. “You know, I think the pizza is okay; shall I stick it in the oven?”

“Considering we nearly died for it, it would be a shame to waste it,” Holly replied.

Grant turned on the oven and put the pizza in to warm up.

Holly was examining the row of bullet holes in the bar counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. “I think I’ll leave these,” she said. “They’re kind of cute. I mean, who else has bullet holes as part of their decor?”

“I’m glad they’re in the counter, instead of us,” Grant said, retrieving his wineglass. “Or the wine bottle. I think I need this right now.” He took a deep draft of the wine.

“Me too,” Holly said. “That’s two people I’ve killed. So Trini has friends, huh?”

“It would appear so.”

Holly picked up the phone. “What was Harry’s home number again?” Grant gave it to her, and she dialed.

“Hello?” Harry sounded terrible.

“You sick?”

“Terrible cold,” Harry said. “I didn’t go in today. What’s up?”

“Tell me Trini Rodriguez is in the Lauderdale jail.”

“I assume so. Like I said, I didn’t go in today. Why?”

“Because two guys with Uzis visited me tonight.”

“Are you okay, Holly?”

“Barely. One of the shooters is dead, and one is being sought.”

“Anybody else hurt?”

“A pizza deliveryman got a lump on the head, that’s all.”

“Let me call you right back,” Harry said.

Holly hung up the phone. “Harry has a cold; home in bed. He’s going to call back.”

Three minutes later, the phone rang. “It’s Harry. Lauderdale PD didn’t get Trini; he’s at large.”

“I’ll call my department,” she said. “You call the state police and have them look for him on I-95 South. My guess is he’s headed toward home. And I’d stake out that bar Tricky’s, too.”

“I’ll take care of that. Let’s talk tomorrow.” Harry hung up.

Holly called her department and gave Trini’s description to the duty officer, with instructions to radio it to all cars.

“Pizza’s hot, I think,” Grant said, pulling it from the oven and putting it on a platter.

They sat down to eat.

“Who did you tell your cops I am?”

“A neighbor,” she said. “Your cover is still intact. You ready to tell me what you’re working on yet?”

“No can do; nothing has changed in that regard.”

“Have some more wine,” Holly said, pouring him some. “Then we’ll talk about it.”

“Wine will not loosen my tongue.”

“In vino veritas,”she said.

“Not yet. You’re exciting to know,” he said.

“Thanks; you’re pretty dull.”

“What do you mean, dull?”

“The most interesting thing about a person is often his work,” she said. “And I don’t know anything about yours.”

“I’ve regaled you with stories from my undercover past,” he said. “Isn’t that enough?”

“And I’ve given you my body; doesn’t that count for something?”

“It counts for a very great deal,” Grant said. “In fact, once or twice, when you were giving it especially well, I nearly blurted out everything. You want to try again?”

“I’m eating pizza,” she said. “It’s hard to give your body and eat pizza at the same time.”

“Later?”

“We’ll see.”

“Listen, when we’ve eaten, I want you to pack a bag and come home with me.”

“Why?”

“If it was Trini out there, I wouldn’t be surprised if he comes back.”

“You have a point,” she said, kissing him and leaving tomato sauce on his mouth.

“He’s not going to stop trying, you know. He has a reputation for persistence.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Don’t be sorry, be safe,” he said, kissing her back.

“Listen, if we’re going to keep exchanging tomato sauce, let’s do it at your place.”

“Pack a bag, and pack Daisy a bag, too. Enough for a couple of days, or until they find Trini, whichever comes first.”

Soon, they were walking hand in hand up the beach toward Grant’s house, with Daisy gamboling in the dunes. Holly had the gun in her other hand, all the way.