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Zusatztext Praise for Blood Orchid “Fast-paced [with] strong action scenes.”—* Publishers Weekly “A suspenseful! exciting mystery that is sure to please Woods' many fans.”— Booklist More Praise for Stuart Woods “Stuart Woods is a no-nonsense! slam-bang storyteller.”— Chicago Tribune “A world-class mystery writer...I try to put Woods’s books down and I can’t.”— Houston Chronicle “Mr. Woods! like his characters! has an appealing way of making things nice and clear.”— The New York Times “Woods certainly knows how to keep the pages turning.”— Booklist “Since 1981! readers have not been able to get their fill of Stuart Woods’ New York Times bestselling novels of suspense.”— Orlando Sentinel Informationen zum Autor Stuart Woods Klappentext "Savvy, sexy"* police chief Holly Barker gets introduced to the cutthroat world of Florida real estate in this New York Times bestselling thriller from Stuart Woods. Blood Orchid: the name of Ed Shine's favorite flower-and his latest real-estate venture. New to town, the dapper developer makes the acquaintance of Holly, her father Ham, and her wily Doberman, Daisy. It's just as Holly's trying to get her life back together after the shattering loss of someone very close to her. But before she can settle back into her routine, bullets crash into the home of a friend and a floater is found bobbing in the Intercoastal Waterway. Joining forces with a handsome FBI agent, Holly tracks the clues straight back to their source, only to find a scam more lucrative and more dangerous than any this idyllic town-or Holly-has ever seen... 1 Sara Tennant arrived at her office building in downtown Miami promptly at seven forty-five a.m., as was her habit. She needed only to park her car and use the private elevator to the penthouse suite of Jimenez Properties; she would be at her desk in the little office next to that of her boss, Manuel Jimenez, when he arrived, promptly at eight o'clock, as was his habit. As she parked her new Toyota Avalon in the reserved space, next to that of her boss, she was surprised and not a little annoyed to see that his Mercedes was already in its spot. She was going to have to start coming in earlier, she thought; she couldn't have Manny getting there before she did. There was something odd about the Mercedes, she realized, through the fog of her recent sleep. Until she had her morning coffee, a double espresso, she would not think quickly. She sat in the Toyota with the motor still running while she tried to figure it out. The lights, she decided. The interior lights of the Mercedes were on, and unless she turned them off, Manny would soon have a dead battery. She gathered her small briefcase, purse, coffee thermos, and the Miami Herald and struggled out of her car. She set her things down on the driver's seat and smoothed her skirt before continuing. She was looking forward to reading Carl Hiassen's column in the paper before doing any real work. She loved Hiassen, read all his novels, too, and never missed his column. She gathered her things once again, closed the car door, and pressed the button on the remote control to lock all the doors and the trunk. Some cars had been broken into in this garage, in spite of the security cameras. She wished Manny had sprung for a garage with a manned entrance, instead of the electronic surveillance; a guard on duty made her feel safer. Embracing her belongings, she walked around Manny's car and saw immediately why the interior lights were on: the driver's door was open. She took another step or two, reaching out for the door, then she peered over the things in her arms and saw what they had concealed until now. Manny Jimenez was lying on the garage floor in an oddly contorted position. Heart atta...
