He let the deliverymen in with his new safe and showed them where to bolt it to the floor in the closet in his study. As soon as they left he changed the delivery combination to one of his own, then removed his cash and equipment from the wall behind the sofa and stowed them, along with a number of weapons, in the large safe.
Holly attended the closing on the sale of her new airplane with Ginny. After she was handed the keys, the logbooks and a nylon briefcase containing all the manuals and instruction books for the airplane and its equipment, she and Ginny went for a test flight.
“I flew it earlier today,” Ginny said, “and all it needed was to have the tires properly inflated.”
“That’s good news,” Holly said. She ran through the checklist and started the airplane, then called the tower and got permission to taxi to a runway. She did her run-up tests before requesting take-off, and she was cleared. She taxied to the centerline of the runway, did her final checks and pushed the throttle forward. The airplane accelerated down the runway and lifted off with a tug of the yoke, and she was flying her very own airplane.
“This is exhilarating!” she cried.
Ginny laughed. “Turn right to two-forty, climb to eight thousand feet and we’ll head out to a practice area.” On reaching the practice area, Holly switched on the autopilot and let it fly the airplane, while she entered a flight plan and an instrument approach into the computer.
They did some slow flight and practiced turns and stalls, then flew a couple of low approaches before landing at Okeechobee Airport, where they refueled and had lunch in the airport’s restaurant. After lunch, they practiced emergency landings and short-field landings, then flew back to Vero and flew another instrument approach to a full stop.
Holly shut down the engine and got out of the airplane. “That was really fun,” she said. “I feel as though I could fly her home right now.”
“You’ve still got a lot to learn about your airplane,” Ginny said. “Now go home and start memorizing the Owner’s Operation Handbook. You’re going to need all that stuff, and you’ll wow them when you show up for training.”
Holly did exactly that, breaking only for dinner for herself and Daisy. She fell asleep that night with the operator’s handbook open on her stomach.
Teddy greeted Adele Mason with a stiff Scotch. “My, what’s that wonderful aroma?” she asked.
“A lamb stew. It’s been cooking for hours.”
“I can’t wait,” she said, sipping her drink. “How have your first days gone?”
“I’m a Florida resident now,” Teddy said. “Driver’s license and all. I bought some new clothes, opened a bank account and made myself at home.”
“The place looks wonderful with somebody living in it. The elderly couple who own the house have outlived their only daughter, and they don’t have any grandchildren, so there was nobody to live in the guesthouse.”
“I like living on the beach,” Teddy said. “I like being able to hear the surf when I go to bed and wake up in the morning. Where do you live, Adele?”
“I rent a tiny condo farther up the island, half a mile from the beach. I was divorced six years ago, and I can’t really afford to buy anything until I sell a lot more houses.”
They had another drink. Then Teddy opened a bottle of California cabernet and served dinner. Adele raved about his cooking, and Teddy was suitably appreciative. He was enjoying himself as much as she was.
They took a brandy to bed and made enthusiastic love for the better part of an hour before falling asleep in each other’s arms.
This time, Adele woke first, shortly after midnight. “I’ve got early showings this morning,” she said.
“Why don’t you get that done then come back and spend the weekend here with me?” Teddy asked.
“I’d love to,” she said. “I could be back here around two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
“Perfect,” Teddy said. “We can go for a swim.”
“I’d love that,” she said, kissing him. “See you in the afternoon.”
She left, and Teddy drifted off to sleep again.
Adele got dressed and drove back to the highway. She turned right and headed north on A-1A, the road that ran up the barrier islands.
Adele was very happy with the way her new relationship with Jack Smithson was going. She hadn’t slept with a man for more than a year, and the last relationship had ended badly. She was looking forward to getting to know this very interesting man better, and she hoped they would last.
A few miles up A-1A she made a left, then a right onto Jungle Trail, a shortcut that would save her a mile or two. Anyway, she liked the dirt roadway and the trees and an occasional glimpse of a raccoon or a deer along the trail.
She had driven a mile or so when the car ran over something and began to pull to the left. She stopped the car and retrieved a small flashlight from the glove compartment, then got out of the car and walked around to the front.
Her right front tire was completely flat. Adele knew how to change a flat, but she hated doing it. Then she looked up and saw a car coming down the trail, behind hers. A flashing blue light on the dashboard came on, dimly illuminating a uniformed figure behind the wheel. Thank God, she thought, a man, and a cop into the bargain.
He got out of his car and turned a very bright flashlight on her. “Got a problem there, ma’am?” he asked, walking toward her.
“Yes, a flat tire.”
“I’ll give you a hand,” he said, coming closer.
“Oh, thank you so much. I’m so lucky you came along.”
He came closer, but the light blinded her. Then she felt a sting on the side of her neck.
“Just take it easy,” he said. “You’re going to get drowsy now.”
“Oh, God, no,” she whispered to herself as she sank to her knees.
22
Lauren Cade got out of her car and walked the forty yards to where the medical examiner’s wagon and an unmarked police car were parked. Detective Jimmy Weathers stood, wearing latex gloves, looking at the front of a Tahoe SUV parked in the middle of the Jungle Trail.
“Morning, Jimmy,” she said. “Thanks for the call.”
“Morning, Lauren.”
“What have you got?”
“Another woman, dead, probably raped. This time, she’s been posed naked behind the wheel.”
Lauren looked through the passenger window and saw the corpse, a middle-aged woman. Her handbag was lying on the floor next to her.
“Looks like she had a flat,” Jimmy said. “Right front wheel, but there’s no nail in the tire and, walking back down the trail, there’s nothing there that would cause the flat. Slow leak, maybe.”
“Spike strip?” Lauren asked. A spike strip was something that the police could throw in front of a car being pursued to blow out its tires.
“Good thought,” Jimmy said. “Another cop thing to add to the rest.”
“Have you been through her bag?”
“I just got here myself,” Jimmy said.
“Mind if we do it together?”
“That’s good.”
Lauren donned her latex gloves, lifted the large leather bag from the car and emptied it on the hood.
“Lots of stuff,” Jimmy said.
“She’s a woman,” Lauren replied, picking up a big diary with a card stapled to the front. “Adele Mason, Beachfront Realty, Vero Beach,” she read.
“Yeah, they’re across from the Holiday Inn,” Jimmy said, picking up the woman’s wallet. “Here’s her driver’s license. She lives not far from here, if the address is current.”