Black Orchid

By Laura Burke

2013 Readers' Favorite Five Stars Award Winner!

In a small fishing village in Connecticut known as Watch Hill, walking on the beach at sunset has become a rather enjoyable pastime for Wayne Minor. Watch Hill is not a very big village and, in fact, is situated on a small island. It was a very peaceful setting until several mysterious Black Orchid blooms are found on the beach. Suddenly, the residents begin to die one by one, as this quiet town becomes a place of terror. Everyone begins to wonder where the blooms are coming from and who is behind leaving them for the residents to find. Nobody is safe from the deadly blooms. Even the police are baffled and begin to die. One police detective is so angry that his fellow officers are being tortured and killed that he vows to find the killer or killers no matter what the cost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura Burke
• Release date: Jun 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301545865

Laura Burke

I have always been and always will be a storyteller. Since childhood, I have dreamed of becoming an author. Now, as I see my stories in print, my dream has become my reality. Since I was eight years old, mysteries have been my passion, especially murder mysteries. So much so, that after working as a nurse for twenty years, I became a Private Investigator. I worked in close contact with police officers and detectives on several closed-case files with amazing results.

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BLACK ORCHID

Laura Burke

All rights reserved © 2013 by Laura Burke

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission, in writing, from the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

First edition 2013

Published by Laura Burke at Smashwords

Book Design by Julius Kiskis

Dedication

I’d like to dedicate this novel to Jeri Giblin, who is a great friend and inspiration.

Chapter One

In a small fishing village in Connecticut known as Watch Hill, walking on the beach at sunset became a rather enjoyable pastime for Wayne Minor. It was not a very big village; in fact, the village was on a small island. The main village ran from east to west, covering only about five miles from the Lighthouse to the last house. The south side of the island was rocky–almost mountainous. Nobody lived on the south side because the rocky surface made it inhabitable. Nobody could argue that there was a better place to live than Watch Hill. Everyone knew everybody, and all were like a big family.

Most of the island was covered in tall pines and other foliage. In the overgrown areas, children built their play forts and huts. Those areas kept the children’s secrets from all others. All the children had grown up, and most had moved away. The only clear places on the island were the residents’ homes on the east side. From the shoreline, you could see the early morning mist over the water. It was almost magical to watch as it blanketed the static, sparkling surface.

The residents of the island had everything they needed. The island allocated power to all the houses and shops from one centralized generator. In the wintertime, some folks went to leave the island for the mainland, but a few old timers would stay, heating their homes just as their parents did with wood-burning stoves and fireplaces.

The only way you could reach the island was by boat, and most say it was worth a thirty-minute ride to paradise to see the lush trees and breathe the fresh air. There was no pollution on this island. There were only a few vehicles, mostly golf carts, and everyone walked to wherever they wanted to go; nobody needed to drive for everything was in walking distance.

Wayne loved walking on the beach at sunset, for there was always something different that would wash up on the shore. This evening was no different. The waves rolled gently in on the shore, washing the sand back into the sea. The tides were higher than usual and the water was murkier than he had ever seen before. The moon would be full this night, and that would have caused the change in tides. The sound of the surf was hypnotic— tranquillizing. Slow and rhythmic, it never skipped a beat. He listened to the sounds of the sea washing in and out.

He walked slowly, looking at items that had washed up on the seashore. Picking up several small pieces of driftwood, he pondered what he could make with them. They were small, but rather unique. This was a hobby he loved, and could always come up with something unique and different from any of his other pieces.

Wayne was an artist, and had lived in Watch Hill for the past five years. He had several paintings on display at the local antique general store in town. His real passion was making things out of what he found on the beach. Making small animals and birds was what he liked best. Painting was all right, but creating small creatures on driftwood was his real passion now. It was a great seller, and it kept food on the table.

The tourists loved trinkets like that. The island was perfect for those who wanted to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city for a week or two to relax. The only time they would come was summer, and by the end of August, all the tourists would be gone and only a few of the locals would remain through the winter months. There were never more than ten guests at a time, for the inn on the island could not accommodate more than that.

This evening felt different to him. The sun was setting and there was suddenly a chill in the air. He quickly zipped up his jacket and continued to walk the beach line. The breeze picked up and the waves became furious as they slapped the shoreline. He looked out across the water, but the sky still looked clear. The white caps on the waves told a different story. The breeze had been very light, but became suddenly strong. It didn’t look like a storm was brewing, but it must be, he thought. The breeze chilled him to the bone as it became stronger. He decided it was time to head back to the small house he owned.

It was the end of April and the temperatures were usually warming, but this evening felt as if they were in for a cold snap—something the folks did not want. They’d had a severe winter, and all of them were looking for a warm, comfortable summer.

Wayne was rather tall with a great, muscular build. He worked out daily. At sunrise, you could set your watch by him jogging down the beach. His usual routine was to jog five miles down and five miles back, come rain or shine. Even in the wintertime, he would bundle up and do the same routine. He had a room added on to his house just for working out. Everyone in town thought he was crazy, but he believed in staying in shape.

He was becoming concerned about the tide as he started for home. He was high up on the beach, trying to get away from the water, but because the tide was so high, the water was still hitting him. His house wasn’t too far from the beach, and now the idea of it getting flooded ran through his mind. The water had never raised this high before. He had lived there long enough to know his home was safe, but on this night, he became concerned. Even during seasonal storms, he had never worried before.

Wayne saw a light in the distance. He always turned on a light before taking his walk because his jog usually lasted until it was dark. He began to run faster and by now as he was soaking wet from head to toe.

Just as he rounded the big rock on shore, he saw it. It was small boat. Wayne tried to make out whose it was, but could not make out exactly who it was or what they were doing out there. He stood on a huge rock to see better, but still couldn’t tell who it was. The rain suddenly poured down without warning and as he looked down, he stopped and scratched his head, for there in the sand lay a perfect bloom of an orchid. In the light from a flash of lightning, at least it looked like a bloom of an orchid. He couldn’t make out the color of it, but he was certain it was very dark. It was in perfect shape—as if it had been just picked.

There were no leaves on it, just the bloom. He looked around to see if anyone had dropped it. Not seeing anyone, he bent down to pick it up. It looked very delicate, and he was afraid of crushing its petals. He had a pair of gloves in his jacket, so he put them on before picking it up. The delicate bloom was so perfect that it seemed as if it was made of wax or plastic. He hurried to his house.

Inside, he listened to the crashing waves on the beach. The sound was magnified to the point that it was almost deafening. He laid the orchid on the table, and took a small glass bowl from the cabinet and filled it with water. Gently lifting the orchid with his gloved hands, he placed it in the water. After examining the bloom, he realized it was real, and the color was unbelievable. It was solid black!

Taking off his jacket and gloves, he sat at the table, looking at the orchid’s magnificent shape and color. It was so amazingly breathtaking that he had to tell someone about it. The color was black as midnight without the moon, and the structure was impeccable. The hard surf had not damaged the bloom at all. So where did you come from?

He knew of only one person on the island knew anything about orchids—the kind you buy at the gardening store and make corsages from. There wasn’t anything like this that he knew of. The bloom was nearly six inches across and four inches deep. This was the biggest orchid bloom he had ever seen. Even the ones they make corsages out of were not this big. The fragrance of the bloom filled the air of his small cottage in only a few minutes.

It completely captivated him for several hours and he had forgotten about the small pieces of driftwood he had found earlier on the beach, which were still in his jacket pocket. His jacket was on the back of the chair. The pocket of the jacket was poking him in his back. Wayne reached back to see what was poking him and remembered the small pieces.

He pulled the pieces of driftwood from this pocket and laid them on the table, still staring at the orchid. He could not get his mind off its beauty. He decided to call Kitty Wilson, the orchid grower, and see what she thought about it.

Miss Wilson had lived on the island since she was a young girl. She had never married and nobody had ever seen her with anyone romantically. She ran the antique and general store, which her father had owned and passed on to her when he passed away many years ago. Nobody on the island knew exactly how old she was, for she had been there longer than anyone else on the island, except for the doctor, who had been there as long as she had. He had gone away to college but after graduating and completing his training, he moved back to the island to be their physician. Running a small clinic on the island made their community complete.

Most of the founders of the island had passed away, but some of their children had remained on the island to continue their parents’ way of life. Some had moved away, but the ones that stayed ran fishing charters or became commercial fishermen. Miss Wilson had a brother that had moved away after he had finished high school. He married and had a daughter, who would come and visit Miss Kitty in the summertime until she became a teenager. Then her visits became shorter, and then not at all.

Miss Wilson was about five foot tall and had snow-white hair. She wore overalls most of the time and she always bragged about her hothouse, where she raised orchids as a hobby. She was overweight, but that didn’t stop her from doing anything she wanted. She was as strong as a mule. Everyone loved her, but everyone knew not to mess with her. Wayne had never seen her without a smile on her face. She was the happiest person he had ever met. She would give you the shirt off her back if she knew you needed it, but if you stole from her, you had better not cross her path. She could put a hurting on you like you couldn’t even imagine. That is what set her aside from most other folks, both in the city or on the island.

Her house was just a few minutes away from the antique and general store, and five minutes from Wayne’s house. The storm had become even worse, but he had to call her; picking up the telephone, his eyes never left the orchid, and he dialed her number.

Hello?

Miss Wilson, hi; this is Wayne Minor. I found something on the beach tonight and I wondered if you could come over and take a look at it.

Land sakes, Mr. Minor, there’s a storm out there! What is it you want me to see? Why can’t it wait until tomorrow? Her voice was groggy, as if she had been a sleep.

I don’t know if it will last ’til tomorrow, and I really think you would want to see this. It’s an orchid, but not just any orchid. Miss Wilson, you have to come see it tonight.

My gracious, I have a hothouse full of orchids. Just tell me, what makes it so different from any other orchid? I have every species known out there. What do you mean it’s different? She looked up at the clock; it was twelve midnight.

"It’s perfect. It’s huge . . . it’s bigger than anything you have in your green house. And it’s as black as midnight," he boosted.

Man, what have you been drinking? There is no such orchid out there bigger than the ones I grow, and there is certainly no such thing as a black-colored orchid anywhere in the world. It just doesn’t exist! Do you understand? You must be colorblind or something! It’s probably a deep purple. They look black sometimes in the different light.

I’m telling you, it is black—black as midnight! Miss Wilson, you have to see it for yourself. Please? Wayne was now pleading with her.

Oh, all right. I’ll be right over, and you better not be pulling my leg! Oh, by the way, have some hot coffee ready by the time I get there. I’ll be there in less than fifteen minutes.

Oh, thank you Miss Wilson. You won’t be disappointed, I promise! Wayne stated with a smile on his face.

Exactly fifteen minutes passed and there was a loud knock on the door. Miss Wilson was always prompt. When she said fifteen minutes, she meant fifteen minutes. People on the island always went to her with their problems. She always knew what to do or to say to make everything better. As Wayne opened the door, there stood Miss Wilson in a plaid bathrobe, fuzzy slippers, and a ball cap, all of which were completely soaked. Wayne wanted to laugh but thought better of it.

Where’s the coffee? It’s freezing out there. I can’t believe how fast the temperature dropped! Where’s that coffee? It was warm when I went to bed. I can’t believe I’m out here in the middle of the night! Where is that coffee?

Right here, Miss Wilson, what do you like in it? Can I get you some cream or sugar, or maybe some honey?

Take my coffee black. That’s the way coffee was made to be drunk, you know. Now where is this black orchid you’ve been rambling on about? She walked over to the kitchen table. Oh my! she exclaimed. This isn’t real! It can’t be! What are you trying to pull over on me? Where did you say you got this? You shouldn’t have picked it up! Oh my!

Miss Wilson stared at the orchid and could not take her eyes off it. She started to put her hand into the water and lift the orchid out of its resting place, and just as she put her hand near the bowl, she stopped.

Wayne, do you have any idea what you have here? It’s the rarest thing in the world! I’m sure there is nothing like it anywhere, but where in the world did it come from? Where is the plant it came from? Why did you pick it? Kitty was babbling on and on without making any sense or waiting for an answer.

I don’t know. I was on the beach like I always am in the evening, and just as I rounded the bend by the big rock, there it was just like you see it, except for the bowl of course. There wasn’t any plant just the bloom. I was scared I’d damage it, so I picked it up with my gloves on and carried to the house and put it in the bowl of water. That’s why I called you.

Well I’m certainly glad you did! By morning, probably, it would have died if left on the beach with the salt water. I want to do some research on it and I’ll get back to you. You know, it might be a joke—someone may have injected the plant to produce this color.

What do I do? How do I take care of it? I don’t want it to die.

Just keep it in the bowl and don’t let the water run out. I’ll be back tomorrow to see how it’s doing. Just relax! It’ll be fine. If there was one, then there has to be others. Maybe in the daylight we’ll find the plant it came from.

Then, they just sat and stared at the orchid with all of its beauty, neither saying a word. They just stared and sipped their coffee. It was captivating and almost hypnotic. Finally, Miss Wilson stood up, shaking her head. Good gracious, I have to get home; it’s nearly three o’clock in the morning!

I’m sorry . . . where did the time go? It seems like you just got here.

Miss Wilson walked over to the door, bundled up in her bathrobe, and started to open the door. The wind grabbed the door and took it from her hand. Outside it was blowing hard and the rain was coming down in sheets. The rain blew inside the house through the opening. She turned to Wayne. Do you have a rain slicker?

Wayne grabbed the door and closed it. He rummaged through the closet near the door and found his slicker, then handed it to her. As she put it on, she turned and looked back toward the table where the orchid lay in the bowl of water.

Oh, my. I’m so sorry, but I have to go before it gets worse. See you in the morning. Miss Wilson ran from the cottage.

Good night, Miss Wilson, be careful out there!

At six thirty in the morning, Wayne heard a loud banging on the door and window. He jumped to his feet and ran to the door. There was nobody there. He turned and walked to the kitchen to start coffee. He glanced over to the dish on the table and the bloom of the orchid floating gently in the water. It was still perfect. It had not changed during the last few hours. He had left the light on in the kitchen so the orchid would not be in the dark.

Again, he heard the loud banging on the door, and this time he walked to the door and saw Miss Wilson standing there in her bathrobe.

Miss Wilson, it’s only six thirty in the morning! Are you all right?

I’m fine, but I just had to see the orchid again! Is it all right? I can’t believe it’s real—I thought I had just dreamed it. Don’t you see? That’s why I just had to make sure it was real!

Yes, its fine! Are you all right? he asked.

I’ve been up since I left here researching this orchid and I can’t find anything on it! It’s the most baffling thing I’ve ever seen. I wish I could get it out and touch it, taste it, dissect it— find out what it really is. Everything I’ve read tells me this is not a true orchid. It just doesn’t exist! So, don’t you see? It has to be someone’s practical joke! It has to have been injected! But without the plant it came from we’re not going to know.

Miss Kitty! Wayne proclaimed.

Its beauty is such; I could never do those things to it. I want to get a sample of its pollen to see if I can crossbreed it with another orchid. Do you know what it would mean to the orchid society to produce such a magnificent plant with blooms like this? It would be written up in the entire world and all the famous journals around the world! Miss Wilson was speaking fanatically.

Look, Miss Wilson, I know you are anxious to have this flower; but I’m afraid to move it. It looks so delicate; I’m even scared to breathe on it. It’s like I was given this bloom as a gift, and I don’t want to give it any reason to die. Why, I even left the kitchen light on so it wouldn’t be in the dark! Wayne had the look of a small boy who had found a treasure chest.

Orchids are very hardy; they can take a lot of abuse without causing them harm. Believe me, I know. I raise them.

I know. That’s why I called you to see what I had and tell me where it might have come from.

I’ve looked in every book I have and there is nothing about black orchids. They just don’t exist! Miss Wilson repeated. That’s why I want to take a sample of this one to see if I can reproduce it. It is so fascinating. Look at it—perfect in every way! Kitty placed her fingers in the bowl to touch the petals of the bloom. Before Wayne could say a word, it was too late; Miss Wilson had her hand in the bowl. Oh my, the petal feels like velvet; I’ve never felt such a velvety soft petal on an orchid before. It’s so soft, and yet so strong. I wonder what this sticky stuff is in the center. She pulled her fingers out of the bowl with the sticky substance on them.

Look where you touched the petal! It seems to be opening more, and there is a streak where you touched it! Wayne explained.

Oh my, there is! Kitty marveled at the bloom as she rubbed her fingers together with the sticky substance on them.

You’re right, it’s even more magnificent today than it was yesterday, and smell—the fragrance is so strong! You can smell it all over the house! Wayne stated.

I have to get the store open, but I’ll be back tonight to take a sample, if you don’t mind.

Oh no, that’s fine. I’ll be here. Just remember, I walk the beach in the evening just before sundown.

Fine, I’ll see you about eight. You’ll be here by then, right?

Sure. If I’m not home, just come on in; the door is never locked.

Thanks, I’ll see you later. Kitty turned to walk out, still rubbing her fingers together.

Are you okay? Wayne asked.

Yes, it’s just the feeling in my fingers . . . it feels rather funny. Oh, gracious, it’s nothing. I have to go before the customers start to knock down the doors of the store. You know they won’t wait for me, they just come on in and take whatever! Kitty was walking down the path.

Sure, I’ll see you tonight. Oh, by the way, don’t mention anything about the bloom, all right? Wayne said.

No problem, I don’t want anyone to know about it, either. It’s just our little secret.

Later that morning, Kitty was still rubbing her fingers. As she looked down at them, she noticed a small cut on her index finger. The pain and itching was now affecting her entire hand; it had begun to swell and the redness was now traveling up her arm. She put some cream on the cut, hoping it would stop the pain and itching. The store was busier than usual, and she knew she could not leave. She had tried to hire help but it cost too much. It was easier for her to run the store by herself.

Kitty was beginning to get worried about the strange feeling and the swelling, so she called the local doctor. She asked him if he could stop by the store and look at her hand after clinic hours. He was usually never busy at the clinic. He said he could, but it would be later that afternoon. He was extremely busy with the locals’ allergies this time of year. Even in the fall, the pollen seemed to be in control of the residences on the small island.

At six that evening, the doctor closed the clinic and headed over to the general store to see Miss Wilson. He had hoped she would have come over to the clinic if it was serious, but she hadn’t, so he made the trip over to the store. He tried to call her to tell her he was on his way, but by then Kitty was having trouble speaking and trouble breathing. As he walked into the store, he couldn’t see her anywhere. He called out her name, and from behind the counter, he heard a mumble. Walking behind the counter, he saw her lying on the floor.

My gracious, Miss Kitty, what in the world? Why didn’t you come over to the office? I’m going to give you a shot and then take you over to the clinic! He never went anywhere without his bag. As he drew up an injection to give her, he could see it was an allergic reaction to something, he just didn’t know what.

No, I have to be somewhere, Miss Kitty mumbled.

I don’t care where you have to be, you’re in no shape to go anywhere!

Putting one arm around Miss Kitty, he helped her to her feet and then led her out of the store and to his golf cart to take her to the clinic. He tried to question her about where she might have been. He thought she was having an allergic attack, but then wondered if Miss Kitty could be having a stroke. Then he saw her hand and arm. He asked what she had touched to have such a reaction. By the time he reached the corner, Miss Kitty went limp, slummed over in the seat and unresponsive.

Pulling up to the clinic, he blew the horn for his assistant to come out and help him take her inside. Because Miss Kitty was overweight, he knew he wouldn’t be able to carry her by himself.

Goodness Doc, what happened to Miss Kitty? The assistant was running toward the cart.

I don’t know, but we have to get IVs started on her right away! Looking at her under the lights, he could see her face, neck, and arm were so swollen that they did not even look like Miss Kitty’s. I think we need to call in the air emergency squad to take her to the mainland for treatment. She’s not responding. If we don’t get her to the hospital, I’m afraid she’s not going to make it! Oh no, she’s not breathing. Help me do a tracheotomy to get her on oxygen.

Sure, Doc. I put in a distress call to the air ambulance they should be here in about fifteen.

I told them we have Miss Kitty Wilson over here at the clinic and the Doc needs her to be air lifted to the hospital on the mainland. They wanted to know what happened, but I told him we weren’t sure. Should I call them back and tell them she’s now on oxygen?

No, they’ll have the necessary equipment to handle it, and the hospital will only be a few minutes away. Thank goodness they’re on the way. I don’t believe she is going to have much time!

The helicopter could be heard in the distance approaching across the water. It landed in the parking lot of the clinic and the aids raced inside to take the patient. She was now barely breathing. The flight to the hospital would take fifteen minutes. It was not to be. On the flight over the water, Miss Kitty took her last breath.

Wayne was puzzled as to why Miss Kitty had not shown up. She was so anxious to take the samples of the orchid, and he even waited for her until eight that night, not taking his evening jogs. He tried calling her at home, but there was no answer. Concerned, he decided he’d walk into town and to the store. The door was open, but Miss Kitty was nowhere to be found. He looked down at his watch and saw that it was nearly eight thirty. He walked back home after closing the door to the General store. He had heard the helicopter, but didn’t really think much about it.

The next morning he walked back into town and the store was open, but there was no Miss Kitty. The anglers always picked up their bait from her before going out to fish. He was concerned, and didn’t know who to call to find out what was going on.

Having work to do, he walked back to his house and decided to wait a while, and maybe walk back into town later to see if Miss Kitty was there and all right. Working at his craft, he couldn’t get the orchid out of his mind, and kept looking over at it sitting on the table. He walked over to the table and picked up the bowl to move it closer to where he was working. He noticed the orchid had opened even more and looked nearly twice in size in the bowl that was becoming excessively small.

Looking around the kitchen, he tried to find another bowl that would be more suitable for the beautiful bloom. He found a huge, light blue bowl and decided to place the orchid in it. He was afraid to touch it, so he put on a pair of rubber gloves. Gently, he lifted the bloom out of the small bowl and placed it in the new one. The bloom still looked perfect.

He walked back into town at about eleven thirty, but the general store still had no Miss Kitty. He didn’t understand it, but didn’t know who to ask or who to see about it. After calling her name several times, he turned to walk out. He pulled the door closed and decided to go back home. He’d try again in the evening to catch up to her. Something must have gotten in the way of her coming to his house, and it must have been important, for she was so adamant about getting those samples.

The next morning, he finished some work he was creating for the store.