Hothouse Orchid

58

On Friday afternoon, Jimmy Weathers left his keys in his cruiser and walked the two blocks to the impound lot. The Mustang convertible, bright yellow and quite new, was sitting out, freshly washed, waiting for him. Jimmy signed the paperwork and got into the car, which smelled of new leather. The car had the hot V-8 engine, and when he turned the key it made a sweet noise. He tossed his service cap into the backseat and roared away, headed for the beach.

As soon as the Mustang passed the police station a man wearing coveralls with the local dealer’s GM name emblazoned on it got out of a van, got into Jimmy’s cruiser and followed his partner, who was driving the van. They drove to a state police garage in Melbourne, parked in an available bay and went to work on the cruiser, starting by removing the steering wheel and the entire dashboard.

Hurd was at his desk when his phone rang. “Hurd Wallace.”

“Captain Wallace, this is Mike Green. I just wanted you to know that your Orchid Beach police cruiser has arrived at our Melbourne facility, and work has already begun on it. I’m advised that they will be finished late Sunday afternoon, when it will be delivered back to the Orchid police station.”

“Thank you, Mike,” Hurd said, “but I and one of my people are going to want to check it out, especially for the placing of the weapons, before it’s delivered. Will you call me on my cell when it’s done, and we’ll meet you somewhere between Melbourne and Orchid Beach.” Hurd gave him the cell number.

“Will do, Captain,” Green replied. “See you then.”

Hurd called out to Lauren, who was walking past his office. “We’ve got Jimmy’s car,” he said, “and they’re already at work on it.”

“That’s good news,” Lauren said.

“Keep yourself available late Sunday afternoon; I want us to go over the car together and make sure you understand where everything is, especially the weapons.”

“I’ll be on my cell,” Lauren said.

Jimmy sailed along Ocean Drive in Vero Beach with the top down and the wind in his short hair. He hadn’t felt so good since he got the chief’s job. He pulled into the parking area in front of the Ocean Grill and parked in a spot overlooking the beach. He took off his uniform shirt and tossed it into the backseat, then took a Polo from his briefcase and put that on. Finally, he locked his shirt, cap and weapons belt in the trunk and stood, looking out at the Atlantic Ocean. Half a dozen surfers were riding nice waves, and there were a few dozen people lying on the beach. He spotted a girl alone who was wearing a bikini, and as he watched, she untied the bra and lay on her stomach, letting the strings fall aside.

Jimmy put on his aviator shades, walked down the stairs to the beach and approached her. “Hey,” he said, stopping next to her towel. “You need somebody to put some lotion on your back?”

She turned her head toward him but didn’t sit up. “I’m okay,” she said, then she turned her head away.

“Can I bring you a cold one?” he asked.

She turned her head back toward him. “No, thanks.”

“You with somebody?”

“Uh, yeah. He’s surfing.” She waved a thumb at the surf.

“Which one?”

“Does it matter? Look, I’d like to be left alone.”

“Nobody needs to be alone,” Jimmy said, squatting beside her in the sand.

“I need to be alone,” she said.

“Listen,” he said softly. “I’ve got a new Mustang convertible right up there above us; why don’t you let me show you some of the local sights? Ever seen the Jungle Trail?”

“No, and I don’t care to,” she replied, not looking at him.

“It’s a beautiful drive, lots of wildflowers, even orchids, and wildlife, too-you see deer and raccoons, maybe even a Florida panther.”

“The Florida panther is a myth,” she said. “Now, will you please leave me alone?”

“The Florida panther is no myth,” Jimmy said. “I’ve seen one twice.”

She turned back and looked at him. “Look, do I have to call a cop?”

“No need for that,” Jimmy said, pulling out his wallet. “I’m a cop.” He flashed his badge. “In fact, I’m the cop; I’m the chief of police.” He held the badge closer, so she could read it.

“In that case,” she said, “you ought to know that harassment is against the law, and if I choose to push it, I could get you fired.”

“Listen, lady, who are you going to complain to? I’m the boss.”

She looked around at the other people. “You want me to make a scene? You want me to start screaming? Because I will. NOW GET OUT OF HERE!” she yelled.

“All right, all right,” Jimmy said, standing up and backing away. Other sunbathers were looking at him oddly, now. He climbed the stairs and got back into the Mustang.

“Bitch!” he said aloud to himself, then started the car. He backed out of the parking place and yanked the stick into gear, leaving rubber and a roar behind him.