Free Death in the Orchid Garden by Ann Ripley Page B

that he doesn’t care about for priceless finds.”
    â€œIs there something inherently wrong with doing that?”
    A shrug. “It’s what he does and doesn’t do next. Doesn’t test ’em long enough to determine whether they’re invasives. Doesn’t remunerate some poor, benighted country that he’s filched them from after he makes a ton of money off them.” Nate Bernstein smiled, but cynically. “Otherwise, there’s nothing wrong with that.”
    She said, “But Matthew Flynn has a different slant. He’s only interested in plants with medicinal value.”
    The young man pointed an accusing finger at Louise. “That’s not the whole story. He’s got two games going. He also goes out and plunders the wilds for ornamentals for fun and profit, don’t think he doesn’t. As for the ‘valuable’ medicinal plants he’s always touting, you have to ask, plants with value to whom? To Matthew Flynn first and foremost.” He shook his head. “No, if you knew the whole story, you’d see he’s a phony. Nothing, or almost nothing, has panned out—no medical miracles or breakthroughs—despite all the money he’s taken up front from the NSF and from pharmaceutical companies.”
    â€œHuh,” said Louise. “Then why does he have such a great reputation in the scientific community?”
    Bernstein, after his animated disclosures, seemed to have wound down. There was a long pause before he continued. “I predict he’ll be passé before the year’s over and that golden boy image will begin to fade. Pretty soon, the funding won’t be renewed.” Another dry and humorless laugh. “Without NSF and pharmaceutical company money behind them, who’ll pay for Flynn and Wyant’s druggy little trips to the middle of nowhere?” He caught Louise’s eye again. “Those trips cost big money, you know, the boats, the special equipment, the professional crews from Manaus . . .”
    â€œI heard Dr. Flynn and Wyant discovered a promising new species. Something in the uncaria genus .”
    Bernstein nodded. “A subspecies of Uncaria quianensis; I’ve read all about it. Maybe it’s a breakthrough, but I don’t think so, despite all the hoopla in the scientific press about it. If it did become a bona fide cancer cure the way they’ve been touting it, it will be an all-out steal from those poor Peruvian Indians who live where they found the plant. But watch and see. I bet their promises come to nothing. Time will tell if I’m right.”
    Louise thought for a moment, but a moment was all she had, for Nate Bernstein had reached the front of the line. She noticed he was purchasing a pocket knife with an attractive palm tree motif. Her newly aroused shopping “self” decided she’d buy one for her husband as a fitting gift from Kauai. She touched his arm. “Nate, we’ll give Dr. Reuter plenty of opportunity to state his positions tomorrow on endangered and invasive plants.”
    Bernstein turned and threw the words over his shoulder. “I trust you on that, Mrs. Eldridge.”
    Then, not caring that he was holding up a line of people, he turned all the way around and fixed Louise with his intense gaze. In a quiet voice that couldn’t be overheard, he said, “I don’t trust the others not to skewer the deal and dominate your whole program.”
    â€œOh, no, they—” she started to say, but he raised a warning hand that was as good as if he’d told her to be quiet and listen.
    â€œLet’s look at the facts as they exist, Mrs. Eldridge. When it comes to botanists, Matthew Flynn is the young, womanizing glamour-puss with the compelling scientific spiel. And that old goat Bouting doesn’t do so bad for himself . . . either with the ladies or at conning the scientific community into thinking that he’s their