Stuart Woods: Orchid Blues

"Yes, but…"

"I shouldn't have said that."

"Please don't worry about it, Mrs. Williams."

"Joy, please."

"Joy, have you been in personnel for the whole time you've been at the bank?"

"Just for the past eight years."

"So you know most of the people who work here?"

"I know all of them."

"What about the newer people, Franklin Morris and Emily Harston?"

"Frank came to us from Miami, and he's fitted right in around here. He's made friends in the bank, and he and his wife go to my church."

"Which church is that?"

"First Baptist."

"What about Emily Harston? She's pretty new."

"Yes, but she's a real good worker. I've had very good reports from her supervisor."

"Do you know where she goes to church?"

"No, I don't. Emily doesn't live in Orchid Beach, and I don't think she's mixed with folks the way a lot of others do."

"Her personnel file says she lives in Lake Winachobee. Where is that?"

"You know, I'm not real sure. I remember when I hired her, she said it was half an hour, forty-five minutes away, depending on traffic."

"Do you know her husband?"

"No, I haven't met him. We had a company picnic last month-it's an annual event-and she didn't come. She said the next day that she hadn't been feeling well. I think she's probably four or five months along. Pregnant, I mean."

"Do you know if she's particularly friendly with any of the other employees?"

"Well, I see her in the bank's kitchen at lunchtime, and she usually sits alone, unless one of the other tellers joins her. We've just got a microwave and a refrigerator and a few tables; most people bring their own lunch."

"Is there anyone else at the bank who's new?"

"Those are the only two," Williams said. "We don't have a lot of employee turnover; this is a good place to work."

"Joy, can you think of anyone at the bank who may have been having financial difficulties? I mean, a lot of debt, late paying bills, checks bouncing, that sort of thing?"

"No, I can't think of anyone. The bank expects its employees to be financially responsible. If an employee had his wages garnished or bounced checks, he'd be in trouble. We're a bank, after all."

Holly stood up. "Well, thank you, Joy. I wonder if you'd do me a small favor."

"Sure, if I can."

"Would you come downstairs with me and point out Frank Morris and Emily Harston?"

"Sure, be glad to."

Holly followed her down the stairs and stopped at the bottom.

"Now, look over there at the platform-that's what we call it- that's where the bank's officers sit."

"Right."

"Frank is at the third desk on the right."

Holly found him, a slender, rather handsome man with dark hair and a mustache.

"And Emily is in the fourth teller's cage over there."

Holly saw the woman, and she was as Vicky had described her: plump and pretty. "Was she at that cage during the robbery?"

"I believe so; that's her regular position."

"Thank you, Joy. You've been a big help."

"Do you think that either one of them was somehow involved in the robbery?"

"Oh, no, Joy, nothing like that. We just always look at the newer employees in a case like this. I'm sure they're both fine people."

"I'm relieved to hear that," Williams said.

Holly thanked her for her help and left the bank. Outside, she sat in her car and waited. The bank closed in a few minutes, and she wanted to see where Emily Harston went when she left work.

Emily Harston left the bank five minutes after closing time and went to her car, an older, but presentable, pale blue Ford Escort. She got in, fastened her seat belt, backed out of her space and drove away. Holly, parked on the street nearby, followed her.

Holly stayed four or five cars back, even though she was driving her usual unmarked car. If Emily Harston was connected in some way to the bank robbery, this was no time to spook her.

Emily drove to a strip shopping center on the west side of Orchid Beach, parked her car and went into the supermarket. Twenty-five minutes later, Holly watched through a window as she paid for her groceries in cash. She emerged from the store pushing a heavily laden cart and went back to her car. She loaded the groceries, returned the cart to the place provided and drove out of the parking lot, turning west again.

Holly followed at an even more discreet distance as Emily proceeded across the South Bridge and headed west toward the interior of the state. Twenty minutes later, she signaled left, made the turn and disappeared from sight. Holly slowed as she approached the turnoff and was surprised to see that there were no street signs or signposts at the turn, just a dirt road headed straight south. Holly could see down it about a quarter of a mile, and the blue Escort was no longer visible.

Holly turned into the road and drove slowly down it. After a quarter of a mile, the road turned southwest, and there followed another straight stretch. Half a mile later, the road turned south again, and this time, Holly stopped her car, got out, walked to the turn and peered down the road. Another straight stretch lay ahead.

She got back into her car and drove until she came to another turn in the road, then She got out and looked again. This time she found herself looking down what appeared to be the main street of an old Florida town, no more than two hundred yards away. The street continued past a number of storefronts on both sides until it seemed to disappear into the lake. She went back to her car and got out a large-scale Florida atlas and found the correct page. The lake was there, but the town was not. She looked at the publication date of the atlas and found that it was less than a year old.

Holly sat and thought about this for a moment. She had found what appeared to be a town that did not appear on a recent map, which was very unusual. New towns did not pop up all that suddenly in Florida or anywhere else. She was reluctant to proceed into the little town until she knew more, so she turned her car around and drove back toward the highway. She passed no other cars, and she noted that there were no other roads turning off this one.

Daisy, who had been sleeping soundly in the rear seat, woke up and put her muzzle on Holly's shoulder. "You have a nice nap, girl?" Holly asked, scratching her under the chin, a favorite place. Daisy sighed sleepily. Holly punched the speed-dial button on her cell phone for Ham's number.

"It's Ham here," he said.

"Hey, good dinner last night."

"Glad you liked it."

"You want to go fishing tomorrow?"

"Sure, what time you want to come over?"

"Not there. I want to make a little expedition."

"To where?"

"If you'll get out a map and look very closely, you'll find a lake called Winachobee, about twenty-five or thirty miles west of Orchid Beach." She heard a rustling of papers.

"That little old thing?" Ham asked. "It's probably just a mud hole."

"It's not all that little. You must be using a small-scale map."

"Well, yeah, I guess so."

"I got a glimpse of it a few minutes ago, and it looked fairly substantial. There's a little town on the shore."

"I don't see the town."

"I don't think it appears on any map; that's what intrigues me. Why don't you put your boat on the pickup and collect me early tomorrow morning. I'll explain on the way."

"Okay, you're on."

"See you then." She hung up. "You want to go fishing tomorrow, Daisy?"

Daisy made a compliant grunting noise. Holly swore sometimes that the dog could talk.

Her cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Stone. Are you on the road somewhere?"

"Yeah, I'm a few miles west, heading back toward Orchid."

"You want to see my airplane?"

"Sure, when?"