Death in the Orchid Garden by Ann Ripley

Bailey said in a shy voice, his magnified eyes carefully moving from person to person. Good thing Dr. Bouting built him up, thought Louise, or it would have been hard to get any attention at all with the dramatic but dignified Anne Lansing nearby. Right now, Marty hardly seemed to have heard the introduction to the male assistant, since he was still checking out the female assistant.
    At last Marty turned his gaze on Bouting. Louise knew he was irritated, for he disliked it when people came along at the last minute and tried to change a planned shoot.
    â€œYou want these two to stroll along—is that what you’re saying?” asked Marty. He shook his head. “Naw, that would be too many people strolling along.”
    â€œYou probably are right about that,” said Bouting. “How about interviewing Anne and Chris and me after we get through with our three-way philosophical fisticuffs?” That engaging grin overcame his face again. Louise looked at her producer and saw him again covertly looking at the garden writer. She could see he was weighing the options; after all, the elusive Dr. Bouting had done Marty a favor just agreeing to be interviewed. And here was this attractive horticulturalist who was being offered up to him as fodder for the videocam. Even though he should refuse, how could a man refuse this bait?
    Matthew Flynn, along with everyone else, had been taking in this exchange without comment. Now he sat back and his mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Hey,” he said, “I have a dandy assistant, too. This particular man cuts through a jungle with his strong, straight machete as if he’s running a knife through warm butter—the clever George Wyant. He even brought it on this trip, in case he encounters an impenetrable section of jungle when we hike the Kalalau Trail up in the Na Pali. George can also treat someone who’s fallen ill with malaria like a nurse at Mass General.” He grinned at Bouting. “But no, you don’t like either one of us, do you, Bruce? I won’t insist we include my good man George in the show, any more than Charles, here, would insist on dragging in his man, Nate Bernstein. Pretty soon we’d have the whole world in it, right, Bruce?”
    Bruce Bouting hadn’t cracked a smile. He said, “Matthew, you have to understand that I’m a little different from you and Charles; I’m an international businessman and these are my right-hand people. Why, you know Anne and how good she is.”
    Flynn flashed a mischievous smile at the woman. “Yeah. Of course. We all know Anne and how good she is. Aloha , Anne,” he said, though he must have left her no more than an hour ago at the conference session. He reached a hand out to clasp hers and succeeded in grabbing her whole forearm, as if his hand were the mouth of a boa constrictor.
    A very physical man, this Matthew Flynn , thought Louise. “And Christopher is good, too,” said Flynn. “Hi, again, Chris. And by the way, friend, I need to get you alone one of these moments and talk about some technical plant lab stuff.”
    Christopher Bailey gave Flynn a sincere nod. “Any time, Matt.” Anne smiled icily at Flynn. Perhaps she knew that more important things were at hand than palavering with colleagues.
    Bouting said, “You may not have heard of Chris Bailey yet, but you will. They’re both rising stars in this field, topnotch botanists. Did I remember to tell you that Chris has crossed more successful new plant varieties than any scientist in the whole darned nation?”
    â€œYes, you did, in fact,” said Marty.
    Bouting went on, undaunted, “You’re familiar with the two-crowned fuchsia coneflower, of course— Echinacea purpurea ‘Bailey’s Double Crown’ ? It’s a real market winner. That’s Chris’s flower.” He gave his assistant a fatherly smile. “Both he and Anne deserve a little