Deadly Orchid

By Ned Gardner

Remember Chappaquiddick? Laura Farans does. Vividly! And she can't stop dreaming about it over and over many years later, because she was one of the "Boiler Room Girls" who attended the infamous party on that fateful July weekend in 1969 when a young woman's life was mysteriously snuffed out-along with a prominent senator's anticipated bid for the highest office in the land!

But that dreadful incident was chicken feed when compared to other, even more horrific events that continued to feed Laura's troubling and odious behavior. And that was just fine with her, by the way, because this strange and beautiful woman-impossibly infectious and seductive on the surface-was as totally noxious inside as the magnificent but treacherous flower that spawned her sinister nickname!

Chances are you won't like Laura Farans very much. Few did after getting to know her. But you won't easily forget the lady, either. Unless you were one of the unfortunate lovers who couldn't resist the deadly orchid's perilous allure, and you're not around to think about her any longer!

"Brilliant! Haunting! Delivers! Double-DOUBLE dare you to put it down!"

~Tim Pelfry-National Police Ledger

"Scary as hell! Every guy's worst nightmare! Where can I meet this astonishing creature?"

~Erik Simpson-Chicago Loyola Review

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 15, 2007
• ISBN: 9780595873258

Ned Gardner

About the author… Ned Gardner has been writing persuasive, entertaining ideas for over forty years. Following a writing stint at Swift-Chaplin’s Hollywood studios, he began an eighteen-year career at J. Walter Thompson, one of the world’s largest and most prestigious advertising agencies, where he serviced key clients with his exceptional marketing and writing skills all over the country and the world. In 1990, Ned began writing fiction. In addition to FIRESTORM!, he has completed three other novels employing the narrative technique of historical fiction: KODAK MOMENT – a not entirely fictionalized tale finally resolving who really shot JFK and why, ONE-EYED PAPERBOY – an outrageous, humorous romp from Florida to the Big Island of Hawaii intertwining an infamous war criminal’s daughter, her lovely, precocious niece, and the stupidest, most pathetic kidnapping in history, and DEADLY ORCHID – a chilling story of a beautiful but toxic psychopath who will stop at nothing to get what she wants and she wants plenty! Ned has also completed a collection of five quick-paced, mostly unsettling short stories under the title, DEEP, DARK WATER. All these works are available through fine bookstores everywhere. Ned lives in North Palm Beach, Florida.

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Copyright © 2007 by Ned Gardner

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

iUniverse

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www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-42984-4 (pbk)

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-87325-8 (ebk)

To my beautiful niece Suzette and her remarkable, loving and devoted husband John Bussian.

Contents

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Epilogue

Author’s Note

Reference Material

About the Author

Acknowledgements

My huge thanks as usual to Lou, the world’s greatest editor, as well as the world’s greatest educator of natural medicine. And special kudos to my dear friend from across the pond, J. P. Morgan—the other one—who gave me the insightful heads-up regarding Napoleon’s astonishing bedroom wallpaper.

Prologue

One hundred and twenty million years ago, when monster dinosaurs ruled the planet and were believed to be the only living things of important size or consequence, tiny orchid seeds began to bud and blossom from caves, branches and the steaming muck below, and were one of the very first plants to evolve.

Today a multitude of orchid varieties can be found everywhere except the Antarctic—there are over 35,000 species including hybrids happily growing somewhere right now—and this enduring, remarkable flower is considered one of the most lovely and magnificent living things by most everyone who has ever gazed upon its beauty or sniffed its sweet, seductive scent. There is, however, at least one bizarre, unearthly exception…

Just a few miles off the banks of the endless, winding Amazon River in one of South America’s deepest, most impenetrable rainforests, there lives a primitive tribe of Indians called Manzezons (mahn-zey-zons). And among the things the Manzezons fear most is a unique specie of brilliantly colored orchid similar in appearance to the more commercially popular Bee Orchid commonly found in flower shops (their lavish blossoms resemble a female bee, highly attractive to pollinating male bees) that flourishes in the low-lying trees that hem the heavily jungled periphery of their small village.

The Manzezon Indians call this flower Ut Rotungadol, or the deadly one of beauty. And that’s because its unusually long, sticky center stem— often appealingly protruding out eight inches or more—simply touched or rubbed onto exposed skin can tragically cause malaria-like fever, gut wrenching vomiting and dysentery, and sometimes death.

The Manzezons believe they will anger God if they cut down and burn all Ut Rotungadol orchids that thrive in their area. In fact, all girls reaching their twelfth birthday are required by tribal law to solemnly touch and lick the noxious orchid stem, packed to its bulbous, glistening red tip with toxic acids extracted from the hundreds of swarming ants that live in the flower’s base, knowing these terrified young girls will likely become violently ill for days if not weeks and possibly die!

But despite the ensuing hell they know is likely in store for their daughters, the tribe’s all wise, senior hierarchy believes that should the girl somehow survive this torturous, often fatal ritual, the wilted, half dead child is now sanctified by God and will likely marry within the year and hopefully birth many male babies. Close to seventy percent of these young girls receive ‘His Blessing’ (survive the ordeal). Or choose, instead, to run and hide in the surrounding rainforest just before their twelfth birthday, where these confused, frightened little souls too often are consumed by things even worse and scarier than the deadly orchid stem!

Curiously, Orchis is Latin for testicle. In light of the twisting road you’re about to travel, my friend, Orchis might more appropriately translate to testicle breaker, or perhaps better yet—deadly orchid! In any case, I hope you enjoy reading about this remarkably deviant, beautiful creature… I certainly enjoyed writing about her. And I’m damn glad our two paths never crossed at some point years ago. That I choose to remember, anyway!

~ The Author.

Chapter 1

Mayflower Hotel, Lake Worth, Florida

11:15 pm

August, 1981

Are you waiting for someone or do you just like to drink? the smartly dressed woman startled Jed Daley as she quietly slipped up behind him. It was late. He had been sitting at the bar by himself nursing a tall bourbon and soda, and he was bored and reluctantly heading toward another depressing and lonely night.

He had just polished off two still barking chilidogs at Mom’s All Night Kitchen down the street that were starting to give him a bad time, and he had drifted into the small, nearly empty bar off the Mayflower lobby for a tummy settler before heading up to his room for the night.

Uh… well now, let’s see here, Jed twisted on his stool and slowly looked her up and down as he unsuccessfully stifled a belch with his fist. I guess. (burp) whoops, sorry there, dinner was a bit primitive. I guess I’d have to say a very definite ‘no’ to the first part. And I suppose I’d have to answer ‘yes’ to part two if I can say that without sounding too much like a lush.

My goodness, you certainly don’t look like a lush, the woman said. Unless, of course, you mean ‘lush’ as in a luscious, juicy melon. Could that be what you mean?

"Um_ well you know I’m really not sure. That’s a real tough question…

She was wearing a gray and white pinstripe suit that accentuated her trim, five-foot-four frame, and her tiny gold watch, maroon handbag and matching Gucci shoes hinted money. Under these dim, solitary circumstances, they also suggested high priced lady of the evening, which certainly had some appeal for Jed at this late hour but also added to his mounting anxiety. After another quick once-over pretty sure he didn’t smell cop, he patted the empty black leather stool next to his and looked invitingly into her huge brown eyes.

So why don’t you grab a seat there, sugarface, and let’s put our heads together. Maybe we can figure this all out before the sun comes up. Then we’ll do a little breakfast if you’re up to it. They tell me room service in this joint is first rate!

She said her name was Laura Farans. She said she was downtown having dinner with some clients and had stopped in for a nightcap before driving back to her home in Palm Beach Shores. She was a feathered ash blond, maybe in her early to mid thirties with head turning, almost insolent good looks that went nicely with the somewhat haughty attitude. Although he couldn’t quite nail down exactly why, something about this stunning, spiffy little lady absolutely oozed sex like it was some sort of impossible-to-plug body leak. Maybe it was the pinstripe suit.

Look, um. Laura, is it? Listen, Laura, I hope you don’t take this wrong or nothin, but you wouldn’t happen to be a ‘professional’ would you? I don’t have a real big problem with that, you understand. I’m just, you know, a little curious and like to know who I’m talkin’ to, Jed said after she ordered a double Johnny Walker Black. The more he thought about what he figured was going on, the more he was becoming uncomfortable with this edgy situation. He was unaccustomed to having the lady make the pass—especially when the lady was obviously a slick, snappy little package like this one, and he was more than a little suspicious lately of unexpected windfalls in small, somewhat out-of-the-way Florida towns ever since his recent troubles up in Ocala. He certainly didn’t need anymore of that kind of nonsense, that’s for sure, and he had good reason to be distrustful of somewhat extraordinary, unusual situations like this that although highly tempting, didn’t quite ring true.

Gee, now just exactly what kind of professional do you think I might be? she asked matter-of-factly, lighting a Marlboro Light. A professional football player?

Hmm_ no, not a football player. I’m afraid you’re not quite tall enough to be a football player. How about ‘professional’ as in ‘hooker’? I’d say you’re just about the right size and shape for that particular calling.

Gee thanks. I suppose. I’ll try to take that as some sort ofcompliment. But a hooker? Oh good gracious, no, I’m in real estate, hon. I’m a real estate broker, not a hooker. Gee, I hope you’re not too disappointed.

"Well good gollygee whiz, not so far, hon, Jed mimicked as he waved a cloud of smoke away from his face, pretty sure the real estate bit was bullshit but deciding to play along with the cutesy patter a while longer. But it’s a little early for me to have major disappointments. Mine usually occur in the mornings… if I wake up alone."

My, how tragically sad for you. I can see where that could be a problem. Boy, I sure hope that doesn’t happen too often. Sounds like you could use a good woman and a house full ofbabies.

"No I don’t think so. I tried that for a couple ofhours last week but it didn’t work out. The woman wasn’t so good and the babies kept spitting up Spaghettios!"

How terribly awful for you! Perhaps the problem is that you’re just a big baby, yourself. That thought ever occur to you? she asked as she took a large sip ofher drink.

"Yeah, sometimes. And perhaps you’re right, the more I think about it. Perhaps I am a big baby. Perhaps you’d like to burp me! Or change me. I think I’m suddenly wet!"

Oh Jesus, you. you win, I surrender! she sputtered, laughing and coughing at the same time, her head bobbing every-which-way in an attempt to catch her breath. Finally she wiped a huge tear beneath her left eye after spitting tiny globules of half swallowed scotch into her napkin. Jesus-Mary-Joseph, mister, enough, okay? she begged, still laughing and coughing. No more, that’s it, you win the big bus trip to Newark! Laura Farans coughed once more and held up her hand like a white flag before staring somberly down at her drink, not saying anything further as she slowly circled a tanned finger the color of a pecan around the edge of her glass.

Hey, name’s Bill Bennett by the way! Jed offered his hand in truce, deciding he was starting to like this good-looking woman, whatever the reason she came in here. At least she was hip (maybe too hip?), and had an easy sense of humor that made her fun and interesting to talk to. She was probably way too sharp, he decided—way too elegant to be a prostitute cruising this relatively quiet seaside neighborhood when she could be more successfully applying her significant charms a mile or so up in Palm Beach where the really big dough is.

Capital Insurance! Southeastern sales manager, Jed added enthusiastically, feeling—hoping—things with this babe were progressing to the point where he might just get lucky for the night. Life hadn’t been going his way lately, and it had been a long, long time since he had been with a woman—any woman—much less one who looked and talked like this quick-witted little fox.

Capital Insurance? No kidding! Now that’s truly remarkable, Bill, Laura said, pretty brown eyes huge in feigned surprise as they quickly danced around the near empty room. Boy, you know I’d swear I saw another tall, nice looking gentleman come in here only a few minutes ago who could be your exact twin! Only this guy’s name is Jed Daley. That’s right, good ol’ Jed Daley. But, of course, he can’t be you because this particular guy doesn’t work for any insurance company or anything like that… No, see, the guy I’m talking about just got out of jail!

Chapter 2

After ordering a second drink, Laura Farans spoke quietly to a bewildered, very nervous Jed Daley for the next several minutes. She explained she had first seen Jed in the old courthouse up in Ocala about a year ago where Jed was on trial for having sex with a minor. The trial lasted two days—Laura was in the courtroom for the full two days—and she was there when the judge sentenced Jed to one year less time served following a defense that strongly suggested that the barely fifteen-year-old girl not only had directly lied to Jed about her age, but had a long history of bedding down with older men for money. Jed claimed he never paid the girl anything—not one thin dime, he remonstrated over and over—and as far as he was concerned, it was just damn good sex. He told the court that it never occurred to him she was hustling him and, in fact, figured the girl—she told him she was nineteen—had some sort of older man, schoolgirl crush for some crazy, nutty reason. Jed was forty-one at the time.

So you some kind of undercover cop or something? Jed asked uneasily after Laura paused to light her third Marlboro.

No, of course not. I told you, hon… I’m a real estate broker. I’ve been successfully selling ridiculously over-priced homes and luxurious condominiums in the Palm Beach area for the past three years. I’m really quite good at what I do, Jed.

Congratulations. I’ll bet you are. So what were you doing hanging around my fifteen minutes of fame in a smelly old Ocala courthouse? Your big bad black Bentley make a wrong turn on your way up to Jupiter Island?

Hardly, she said as she coughed and squashed her cigarette into the ashtray after only a couple of puffs. "First of all, I rarely make wrong turns. Ever. And second, I drive a white Jaguar, not a black Bentley. Black’s too damn hard to keep clean. I came up to your trial because that sweet, innocent little underage darling you just couldn’t keep your hands off of— Britanica Evers—happens to be my niece. And I was there on behalf of her mother, my sister, who’s bedridden and dying of tuberculosis. Okay? Beginning to get the picture, now?"

No, not really, I’m not too bright, Jed said, thinking it was time to pay up and roll on, not sure if hot little Auntie Laura was planning to slap his face or try to entice him into bed with the intention of tattooing his chest with a fingernail file.

"This has been a whole lot of fun but it’s getting late and I got to dash.

I’m sorry about your sister, I really am. I had no idea about the tuberculosis thing. Brit. uh, your niece and me, we never talked family or shit like that. In fact we hardly talked about anything now that I think about it. It was just, you know…"

‘Damn good sex’. Or should we more accurately say, ‘Statutory rape’?

No! Wrong! Very wrong! The judge never ever called it that, Jed eyed her tightly as he finished his drink in one gulp and started to get up. ‘Lewd and lascivious behavior’—that’s what the judge said. He gave me a break because he knew what kind of hustling, mother humping tramp your niece was, pardon my French. You were there, right? My-golly-gee-whiz, little lady, weren’t you paying attention to what the judge said? Jed asked pointedly, annoyed to suddenly find himself trying to defend what happened in Ocala all over again and how he was railroaded by that precocious, street savvy little nymphet.

I guess I wasn’t listening that close, Laura said. Not that much to the trial, anyway. My mind must have been thinking about other, much more important things. Unlike you and my poor sister, I’ve been on to that little tart for some time now so I wasn’t particularly surprised by anything that came out of her dirty little mouth. Tell me something, Jed, before you go galloping off into the sunset toward what promises to be another one of those disappointing, lonely mornings… Aren’t you at least mildly curious why I tracked you in here tonight?

Nope. Not in the least. Fact is I really need to go like I said.

My gracious. Don’t tell me I’m making a big strong guy like you nervous, she teased, fingering the two top buttons on his shirt. Am I making you nervous, Mister Big Strong Guy?

After putting a twenty-dollar bill on the bar, Jed gazed quietly down into those lovely brown eyes, his six foot-three frame towering over her as she remained on her stool.

Let’s quit the clever chitty-chat, lady, okay? Just what the fuck are you doing in here and just what the fuck do you want?

Hmm, direct, too. I like that in a man. Well for one thing, I’d like you to sit back down if you can spare another minute. And for another, I’d like you to calm down, Jed, and understand I was always on your side with that Ocala mess or I’d have probably shot your scrotum off ten seconds after I came in here, she said, underscoring the point by letting him peek into her slightly open purse so he could see the ivory handle of a small silver automatic.

I have no use for my niece and never did. She’s a devious, manipulating, overdeveloped slut who’s completely out of control, and she’s been that way since she turned twelve. Yes, you got a huge break from the judge up in Ocala but I still think you got a bum rap, and maybe—just maybe—I’ve got an idea that might help soothe your wounds and make us both a truckload of money. You don’t have any problem making truckloads of money, do you Jed?

I don’t know. Depends, I guess.

On what?

The truck and the money. So what’s with the cute little peashooter? he smiled and pointed to her purse. What does that thing do, shoot caps?

That cute little peashooter, as you call it, can blow your ear off along with half your face, trust me. Or your balls, if my aim isn’t so good. See, in my business I have to drive all over the place by myself, sometimes late at night like now, and you just never know what you might run into these days. Even a sweet, innocent little country girl like me needs all the protection she can get, wouldn’t you agree? So… getting back to the important stuff. are you interested in making a lot of money, Jed, or what?

Not if it’s illegal.

Laura sat quietly for a second and lightly dragged a perfectly manicured nail slowly across the back of his hand. "Well let’s see now. For openers, I’m over eighteen, big guy, and can prove it unlike my slutty little niece so at least you don’t have to worry about that particular problem. this time!"

Chapter 3

I hope you realize I’m taking a huge risk here. I’m going out on a big limb sharing what I’m about to tell you, and I hope I don’t live to regret it, Laura quietly told Jed after she suggested they move to a table in the rear of the cocktail lounge for more privacy.

"But as I watched you in that courtroom and listened to your attorney talk about the death of your mother when your were four, your dreadful experience when you were captured in Vietnam and all the other unfortunate twists and turns that have befallen you, I thought you might be just the right person to help me take advantage of a situation so unique, Jed—so simple and remarkable—that I’m sure you’re going to think I’m making this up!

"The catch—if you want to call it a catch—is that I can’t pull this. amazing opportunity off by myself, and the window to take advantage of this situation will close forever, almost exactly… she looked at her little Rolex, this time six nights from now.

"You asked me at the bar is it legal? Good question. Fair question. Well the answer is, no, Jed, it’s not legal. Not even close to legal. The truth is, it involves illegally taking something of great value from someone who bought it illegally—stole it, probably—from someone else. In other words, I need you to help me rip off someone who I’m pretty sure ripped off somebody else! Now ifthat’s a problem for you then I’m afraid we, well. have a problem! So. do we have a problem, Jed?"

I’m not goin’ back to no lockup and wearin’ no fucking orange jumpsuit, lady, if you’re talking about somethin’ that can lead to that! he said bluntly. "I won’t do nothin’ that could put me back in that hellhole up in Stark, no matter how fuckin’ ‘simple and remarkable’ this… situation is!"

"Good for you. Well as I said, there is some risk, no question… for both of us. I won’t try to kid you about that. It’s very minimal, I’m ninety percent certain, but there is risk! And if things went wrong and we did somehow get caught, there is no question we’d be facing some jail time, especially you, Jed, because you’ve been there before. Several times, actually, from what I understand," she gave him a sly, knowing smile.

So. she reached for her purse and got up. Nice try, Laura. I guess that’s it! There’s really nothing more to say. Thanks for the drinks and cute conversation, I really enjoyed it. You made me laugh and I like that. I find that enormously sexy and most guys just don’t do that very well. Listen, Jed, have a good life, okay? I honestly believe you deserve it, she added, surprising him by quickly leaning up and lightly kissing the tip of his nose before walking slowly away. See you sometime, she said softly without looking back waving her right hand in the air.

Jed sat back on his chair for a moment and watched her glide smoothly towards the front of the bar in her handsome suit, the lingering, sweet-balmy fragrance of her perfume fighting the stale air. The view from the rear was. well, motivating, to put it mildly (nice dumper! he delectably noted), and Jed began thinking he maybe just blew a big one!

Shit, crap, piss, son-of-a-bitch, shit, he grumbled as he quickly got up and chased after her, just catching her elbow as she reached the glass door that lead into the hotel lobby and twin elevators.

Hey! Laura! Hey! Christ, slow down for a second, will ya? Boy, you sure give up easy for a hot-shit real estate lady, you know that? he told her as he gently twisted her around.

"No, not usually. But this is quite different. I told you, I don’t have much time to get this all together so if I feel I’m barking up the wrong tree I need to move on quickly, and. find another tree! I thought you might be the right person to help me, Jed, but apparently I was wrong. Sorry about that, but that seems to be the case. Now I need to find someone else who wants to make a lot of money for what I’m sure is very little risk who I feel I can trust and might, you know, be able to help me pull this whole thing together. Sorry, but I really don’t think you and I..

How about one more drink? he broke in. Maybe up in my room where we can, um, you know. relax and toss this thing around a bit more. I mean, you don’t just stroll up to somebody you really don’t know all that well and ask him if he wants to do something crazy that might, you know, Jed looked around nervously and lowered his voice, cause some trouble and maybe end in some serious library time. I mean what the hell did you expect me to say, Laura?

I don’t know, she half whispered back. "Tell you the truth, I worried you’d likely say pretty much what you just did say! Look, Jed, I like you, I really do. You seem like a nice, fairly bright fellow and you’re certainly nice looking and I’ll admit I’m attracted to you to some degree. In fact I liked you the first time I saw you up in Ocala and watched you wiggle and squirm in that steamy courthouse for two days, believe it or not.

"But you can’t afford to get involved in anything. crazy, and I don’t have the time to play ‘boy meets girl—boy beds girl’ right now as much as it might be. interesting. So. really, Jed. what’s the point? I really have to go, but it was fun talking to you."

Well I like your perfume for one thing.

Well that’s good—that’s an encouraging start! she laughed prettily then looked teasingly up into his eyes, just managing to lightly brush her small, firm breasts against his lower chest.

See anything else on the menu that might please a discerning, fastidious gentleman like yourself?

Jed held her close for a second, not completely certain he knew what fastidious meant.

Christ, Laura, I got this funny feeling. mostly between my legs at the moment. you could talk me into anything if you really put your mind to it, fast odious or not.

Yeah, well relax, cowboy, or you’ll never make it out of the gate, she cautioned then leaned up and pecked the tip of his nose again, allowing him to steer her through the lobby towards the elevator.

Talk you into anything, huh? I guess we’ll just have to see about that, my big strong handsome guy, Laura smiled and pressed the up button, quite pleased with herself and thinking she may have finally found the right pigeon. God, it’s always so easy, the deadly orchid thought as she watched the doors silently open in front of them.

Chapter 4

Three weeks earlier

Boca Raton, Florida

Dr. Albert Slagle and wife, Della, had lived in Boca Raton since 1972. He had sold his successful dental practice to his partner nine years earlier before retiring to the popular, affluent South Florida area where many of their friends from Scarsdale, New York, had also migrated over the years.

Dr. Al, as he was called by both patients and friends, was very proud of his 13 handicap—he golfed practically everyday—and the couple enjoyed a robust social schedule