Orchid Beach

CHAPTER

16

Holly drove south on A1A and slowed at the spot where Chet Marley had been found. There was a good fifteen yards of thick sod between the road and a chain-link fence closing off the property beyond. Whoever shot Chet had thrown his gun over that fence, but why? Why not steal it, or better, just leave it where it lay? She drove along for another hundred yards until she saw a break in the fence, where it had been peeled back. There were tire tracks across the grass and leading into the brush. She turned and drove through the gap. Daisy sniffed the air through her open window.

The ground was bumpy, and the brush dense on each side of the track. It looked as though there had once been a road or driveway that was now disused, except for Sam Sweeney’s van, which appeared ahead, pulled off the track to the right. Holly stopped behind the van and got out. “Daisy, you stay,” she said.

She walked past the van, and her nostrils were assaulted with the odor of human feces. Sweeney had apparently not been a Boy Scout; he had never learned to dig a latrine. She pushed through a stand of palmetto and came into a clearing, shaded by live oaks and bay trees. Sweeney and the girl were sitting at the campfire, roasting hot dogs on sticks. Sweeney got to his feet.

“What now?” he said.

“I want to talk to you,” Holly replied.

“Sure,” Sweeney said. The girl went on cooking the hot dogs.

“Show me your Colt thirty-two,” she said.

“I don’t have it,” he replied. “The cops must have took it when they searched the van.”

“Where was the thirty-two in the van?”

“In the glove compartment.”

“You have any other firearms?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, shaking his head. “Just the one, and I don’t have that one no more.”

“You’d be wise not to replace it,” Holly said.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I heard your testimony in the courtroom. Did you leave anything out?”

“No, ma’am. I answered all the questions they asked me.”

“What about the questions they didn’t ask you?”

He looked at her narrowly. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Sam—you were all over this area that night. You had a flat where the chief was later shot, you were camped here, you drove up and down A1A all the time. What did you see that nobody asked you about?”

“I didn’t, ah, see anything,” he replied.

“All right, then what did you hear?”

He looked at the grass under his feet.

“Come on, Sam, this is off the record, just between you and me.”

“I reckon we got back here five minutes before it happened,” he said.

“Go on.”

“I heard them talking. They sounded angry.”

“How many?”

“Two, maybe three. I couldn’t see nothing. You see how dense that brush is,” he said, pointing toward the road.

He was right about that, Holly thought. The brush between where they stood and the road, some fifty feet away, was virtually a wall. “What were they saying?”

“I couldn’t make any of it out, but it was angry. Both sides of the conversation was real mad. Then I heard the shot.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do nothing. I wasn’t about to stick my nose in something where there was shooting going on.”

“Then what happened?”

“I heard something hitting the brush and then fall to the ground. I don’t know why, but my first thought was a hand grenade. I kept waiting for something to explode.”

“That was the Beretta?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I didn’t find it until the next day. Whoever threw it really let go. He’d have to clear that brush. If it had landed in the brush, you’d have needed a chain saw to get at it.”

“After you found it, did you check the clip? Had it been fired?”

“No, ma’am. I mean I checked the clip, and it was full. There wasn’t one in the chamber.”

“How many shots did you hear?”

“Just the one.”

“You know enough about guns to guess what it was?”

“Not really. Anyway, you don’t have to guess. It had to be that Smith and Wesson thirty-two.”

He was right about that. “Did you hear a car drive away?”

“Yeah, I heard the doors slam…”

“How many doors?”

“Two. I guess that means there was two of them.”

“I guess so. What did the car sound like?”

“Like a car—not a truck. Like a regular car. Kind of sporty, maybe. You know how some of them sporty cars sound?”

“Like a Ferrari or something?”

“Nah, I’d know that sound. Like something that wanted to be a Ferrari, you know? Something cheaper.”

“Which way did it go?”

“I reckon it made a U-turn and went north.”

“What are your plans, Sam?”

“Plans? I ain’t got no plans. I’m just hangin’.”

Holly shook her head. “No. I want you out of here.”

“Out of the campsite?”

“Not just that. Out of Orchid, out of the county.”

“How come?”

“You want to be busted on the cocaine charge? Nobody planted that.”

“I, uh, see your point,” he said.

“I want you gone before dark,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am, and thank you for not busting me on the drugs. They was just recreational, only for my own use, you know; I wasn’t dealing nothing.”

“Fine, just pack it up and go,” she said.

“Can I check back with you to see if you find my Colt thirty-two?”

“Sam, you’re pressing your luck.”

He held up his hands in front of him. “Yes, ma’am, I get the picture. We’ll be on our way just as soon as we can get our stuff in the van.”

“That’s the idea,” Holly said. “Good luck.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Holly walked back to the car, where Daisy was looking anxiously out the window. “I’m back,” she said to the dog. “No need to worry. We’ll go home and get you some dinner.”

The mention of dinner got a favorable reaction.

When Holly got back to her trailer, there was a car in her parking spot. Daisy made a low noise in her throat. Holly drew her gun.