cartridge.”
“Hollow point?”
“We couldn’t tell from the casing, but a silencer was used, so we assume a hired killer. He’d probably use a hollow-point slug.”
“That’s what killed my golfer yesterday; made a real mess of him. You have any reason to think there’s a connection between my killings and your attempt?”
“Only that they’re all three property developers,”she said. “The intended victim swears he has no enemies, but you never know about a thing like that.”
“Both my victims’ wives said the same thing. They can’t think of anybody who’d want to hurt their husbands. Closest I could come to an enemy was the golfer’s playing partner, who thought he was being hustled by the victim. But he’s not a suspect.”
“I’d be very interested to know what your two developers had in common.”
“Same business, is all,” the detective replied. “They didn’t even know each other, best we can tell.”
“Were they direct competitors?”
“We’re still working on that. Why don’t you send me your shell casing, and I’ll compare it to the one we found.”
He hadn’t mentioned a shell casing before. “After we’ve had a look at it,” she replied. She took note of his mailing address. “Would you let me know if you come up with a connection between the two victims? I’d like to see if it relates to my case.”
“Sure, I’ll give you a call.” He hung up before she could give him her number.
4
H oward Singleton, head of the Miami office of the federal government’s General Services Administration, went through the papers on his desk slowly, then he looked up at one of his people, Willard Smith, who was sitting across the desk from him. “Is this all we got?” he asked.
“Three bids,” Smith replied.
“I don’t get it, Smitty,” Singleton said. “This is prime real estate.”
“Well, it’s not exactly Palm Beach,” the man replied. “Orchid Beach is just some backwater. I looked into it; it’s pretty, but there’s no big-league shopping, only a few decent restaurants, and none of the other stuff you’d expect to find where there’s high-end construction going on—very few interior decorators, upscale furniture stores, and all that. Not much in the way of entertainment, either.”
“But still, this property has three golf courses, fifty houses already built, a clubhouse.”
“There’s no beachfront property attached; it’s all west of A1A; that holds down the value. Fact is, Orchid Beach isn’t the sort of town to support the kind ofbig-time development that this property would require if someone is going to turn a profit. It’s over the top, and by a long way.”
“Well, two of these bids are not credible, as far as I’m concerned. Did you read the backup paperwork?”
“Yes, and I agree. There’s only one bid that we could properly accept, I think, and it’s this BOP, Blood Orchid Properties.”
“Weren’t we expecting bids from a couple of big Miami developers?”
“Sure, but don’t you read the papers?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Manny and Steven Steinberg are both dead. We’ve had serious interest from both of them, and I was anticipating bids.”
“What, they just dropped dead? Both these guys were in their forties, weren’t they?”
“They dropped dead from bullets,” the man replied. “And on the same day. Less than a week before the bidding closed.”
“And what does that tell you?”
“Well, it’s suspicious, I’ll grant you that, but we’re not going to get those bids now. We’ve advertised this thing, received sealed bids from three parties, and one of them is higher than the reserve, so what can we do but accept it? We’re on a deadline here.”
Singleton stacked the papers and returned them to his subordinate. “All right, issue the acceptance to this BOP outfit.” Singleton watched Willard Smith leave, closing the door behind him, then he called the FBI.
Harry Crisp, the agent