Stuart Woods - Hothouse Orchid

“Maybe we’ll find the panties in the car,” Lauren said.

“DNA from the panties would guarantee a conviction,” Hurd said, “though I’m not going to get my hopes up about that. Bruno is too smart to keep something like that in his car; if he has them, he’ll have thought of a better hiding place.”

The phone rang, and Hurd picked it up. “Yes? Thank you, Shirley.” He hung up. “We can’t see the judge until four o’clock this afternoon. He’s in court nonstop until then.”

“Oh, God,” Lauren said. “I’ll be on pins and needles until then.”

Lauren sat in her car outside the courthouse and waited impatiently for Hurd’s return. She felt an excitement she had never felt before; her stomach churned, and her knees were weak. She looked up to see Hurd coming down the courthouse steps.

Hurd got into the car and held up a warrant. “Got it,” he said and gave her a rare smile. He got out his cell phone and punched in a number. “Fred? It’s Hurd Wallace; I need an immediate tow, a flatbedder. Right, meet me at the Orchid Beach police station parking lot as soon as you can get there. We’ll be going back to your garage.” He hung up. “Let’s go.”

Lauren drove quickly to the police station, resisting the temptation to use her lights and siren. She pulled into the parking lot. Bruno’s cruiser was in his labeled parking space. “There it is,” she said. “And here comes the tow truck.”

“You want to serve the warrant?” Hurd asked.

“No, I’m too nervous; you do it, please.”

Hurd got out of the car and walked into the police station through the back door. He was gone for no more than a minute, then he returned. Jim Bruno came out the back door and stood at the top of the steps, watching.

“Fred, there’s the car,” Hurd said. “The keys are in it.”

“You want to drive it, then?” Fred asked.

“No, I don’t want to take any chances.”

Hurd and Lauren watched Fred go through the motions with practiced ease. In five minutes, he had the car on his flatbed.

Lauren and Hurd got back into the car and followed the tow truck. Hurd got on the phone and reached the unit criminalist and gave him directions to the garage.

“How did Bruno react?” Lauren asked.

“With astonishment,” Hurd replied. “I mean, he really looked amazed. He demanded to know the reason for the warrant, and I refused to tell him. I told him the car was material to an investigation that’s under way.”

“Now I wish I had served it,” Lauren said.

“It’s better that I did it,” Hurd replied. “We don’t want him to try and make a case for harassment because of your past dealings with him.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Lauren said.

The tow truck pulled into the garage. Fred unloaded it and drove it into an empty bay, then raised the hoist.

“Lift it so that the tires are at eye level,” Hurd said to him.

The hoist stopped, and Hurd and Lauren walked to the right front tire. Hurd spun the wheel slowly. “I don’t see a cut,” he said.

“I thought Jimmy said it was the right front,” Lauren replied. “You check the right rear, and I’ll check the other side.” She inspected both tires and found no cuts. Then she walked back to where Hurd was standing. “No cuts on the other side. I don’t understand.”

“Lower the car, Fred,” Hurd said to the garage owner, who was standing by watching. He lowered the car. “Pop the trunk, Lauren. Let’s look at the spare.”

Lauren put on latex gloves, opened the driver’s door and pressed the trunk lid release, then went to the rear of the car. Hurd was unscrewing the wing nut that held the spare in place. In a moment, he had the tire out, and they inspected the tread.

“I don’t get it,” Hurd said. “There’s no tire cut anywhere.”

Lauren walked back to the right front tire and knelt to look at it again. “Look at this,” she said.

Hurd walked over and squatted. “What?”

Lauren flicked a little piece of rubber that extended from the tire like a pin. “It’s a new tire,” she said. “These little appendages fall off after a while.”

“Shit,” Hurd said. “That means he bought a new tire after Jimmy saw the cut this morning.”

“But why would he have done that?”

“I don’t know,” Hurd said.

Lauren got out her phone and called Jimmy Weathers’s cell phone.

“Hello.”

“Jimmy, it’s Lauren. We got the warrant, and we’re inspecting the tires now. There’s no cut on any one of them, and there’s a brand-new tire on the right front.”

“Damn,” Jimmy said. “He must have seen the cut. It was deep enough to bother you; I wouldn’t have wanted to drive on it. One good bump, and you’d have a blowout.”

“I guess you’re right,” Lauren said.

“I’m sorry, Lauren. I don’t know what else to say.”

“Not your fault, Jimmy,” she said. “Bye-bye.” She turned to Hurd. “Where does the Orchid department buy its tires?” she asked.

“Up US-1 a couple of miles. Let’s go.” Hurd headed for the car, and Lauren followed.

The crime lab van pulled up behind the garage.

“The car’s on the hoist,” Hurd said. “This is about the rape/ murders; check everything, and be careful to properly preserve any evidence. We’ll be back.”

Lauren got into the car, and they drove away.

Holly was driving back from the airport after her day’s training when an unmarked police car suddenly passed her, moving fast. Lauren Cade was looking at her in the rearview mirror, waving, with Hurd Wallace sitting next to her. Holly’s curiosity was piqued: another murder? She accelerated and fell in behind the car.

They pulled off the road at Vero Discount Tires, and Holly followed. What were they doing? Getting a flat fixed? If so, what was the hurry? She got out of the car. “Hey, Lauren, Hurd.”

“Hey, Holly.”

“What’s up?”

“We’ve got a lead in the rape/murders,” Lauren said.

“At a tire place?”

“We found a tire print with a deep cut in it at the crime scene yesterday,” Hurd said, “and we got a report from Jimmy Weathers that Jim Bruno’s cruiser had such a tire cut, but Bruno replaced the tire earlier today. Join us?”

Holly went with them into the tire store.

“Afternoon,” a clerk behind the counter said. “What can I do you for, folks?”

Hurd flashed his badge. “Did Police Chief Bruno buy a replacement tire here today?”

“Sure did. Right before lunch.”

“Can we see his old tire?”

“Sure, if we can find it. Follow me.”

They followed the man through the back door into a shop, then out behind the building.

“The chief’s old tire will be in this pile over here…” The man stopped; there was no pile of tires. “I’m sorry,” he said, “looks like we had a pickup this afternoon. The pile was here this morning.” He called to one of the men in the shop. “Hey, Mike, did we get a pickup today?”

“’Bout an hour ago,” Mike yelled back.

The man turned back to Hurd and his group. “We get a pickup from an outfit in Melbourne about once a week. They specialize in disposing of old tires, batteries, that sort of stuff.”

“Can you give me the name and address of the company?” Hurd asked.

“Sure. I’ve got it inside.” He went back into the front room, rummaged through a desk drawer and came up with a business card. “Here you go,” he said, handing Hurd the card. Environmental Disposal Corporation. They’re out beyond the Melbourne airport.”

“Thank you,” Hurd said. “Holly, you want to come with us?”

“I can’t Hurd; I’ve got to cook dinner for a friend, and I haven’t even been to the store yet. Good luck.” Holly watched them drive away.