That Way Lies Madness: A Florida Action Adventure Novel (Scott Jarvis Private Investigator Book 8)
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That Way Lies Madness
Scott Jarvis Private Investigator Book 8
Scott W. Cook
Copyright © 2020 by Scott W. Cook
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Drawn from the case file of Gonzalez and What’s his ass
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Drawn from the case file of Gonzalez and What’s his nuts
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Drawn from the case file of Gonzalez and what’s his face
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
From the case file of Gonzalez and what’s his name
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
From the case file of Gonzalez and her faithful stooge
Chapter 23
From the case file of Gonzalez and her faithful stooge
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
From the case file of Gonzalez and her faithful lackey
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Scott’s and Lisa’s story, part 1
Chapter 29
Scott’s and Lisa’s story, part 2
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Epilogue Two
Author’s Notes
Other books by the author…
About the Author
“Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all… O, that way madness lies; let me shun that; No more of that…”
King Lear, William Shakespeare
“whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad…”
The Mask of Pandora, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Chapter 1
All I can say is thank God for the autopilot.
The scene was perfect. It was a warm August evening and A firey sun had just eased himself below the rim of the world. A mild ten knot westerly breeze wafted across a gentle swell. Slip’N’Out took it on her beam, cruising at a leisurely four knots under full sail southward along the coast between John’s Pass and Pass-a-Grille Pass.
To top things off, Lisa was astride me, her long legs wrapped around my waist and her arms clutching my neck. The sweat from our bodies mingled as we, mostly Lisa, moved with a frantic rhythm that grew ever more urgent with each passing moment.
Suddenly her body went taught, her arms and legs squeezing me as Lisa threw her head back and screamed in erotic delight as she and then I, both arrived at an explosive climax.
“Geez…” She practically wheezed as she tried to catch her breath, “I didn’t… didn’t think that position could be so… intense!”
I chuckled and huffed as well, “Isn’t that one of those tantric deals? Not a lot of frantic pounding but more a relaxed intimate experience where it’s easy to kiss and touch and stuff?”
Somehow she’d managed to turn the two of us sitting Indian style into a more frenetic experience. No small feat since I couldn’t move much and we were sitting behind the wheel on the helm seat. Lisa squeeze me tight with her legs and giggled.
“God, I’ve missed you…” She whispered and then hot tears began to flow down her beautiful face.
I held her close, stroking her hair and soothing her, “I know, me too.”
“I was so stupid…” Lisa said shakily. “I wasted so much time…”
It doesn’t’ matter,” I whispered to her.
She shuddered a little, “Scott… I missed you so much. And even when…”
“Lisa,” I said softly, “it’s the past. We’re here now and that’s all that matters.”
“I can’t believe you still want me.”
I chuckled at that, “Are you kiddin’ me, man? You’re hot.”
She laughed through her tears and then quieted again. In a soft and quavering voice she asked: “Do you still… still love me?”
I held her tightly and kissed the top of her head, “Of course I do.”
“Me too,” She said almost too softly for me to hear.
I sighed dramatically, “why does this always happen? Why do girls always cry after having sex with me?”
She laughed and looked up at me, her smile bright in the oncoming dusk, “Shut up! The only reason they’d do that is that they just can’t believe how awesome you are.”
“That’s true,” I said, “I am somethin’.”
She laughed some more and wiped her tears away, “You’re something all right.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, “reach me the fresh water hose. You done went and got me all sticky.”
She grabbed the fresh water hose from where it rested over the port railing and began to hose us both off, “I got you sticky? What do you think is gonna happen when I stand up?”
I guffawed, “Don’t be gross! What’d I tell you about crude broads? Geez… I’m going to have to seriously limit your exposure to Sharon.”
She laughed and eased herself off of me, using the water to clean the rest of our bodies off. She sighed, “Man… what I’ve given up for the last almost year… Christ, we just made love on a sailboat while the sun went down… how awesome is that!”
“It was good for me,” I said with a grin. “And I’ll bet those fishermen over there are enjoying the show you’re putting on, too.”
Lisa turned to her right. About two hundred yards off the port beam, a twenty foot or so center console fishing boat was drifting near a shoal of fish. Two men stood at either end with rods in their hands, yet I got the distinct impression that an impending catch was not foremost in their minds at present.
Lisa grinned, set the hose down and moved around the binnacle. She stood up on the port side skid plate along the edge of the cockpit and put one hand on the top of the Bimini and used the other to wave at the men. Even though the sun had sunk five or six minutes earlier, there was still plenty of evening light to show the glistening reflection of the lines of her wet and obviously naked body.
“It’s not that dark,” I warned her, “they can tell you’re naked.”
“Good,” Lisa said as the two men cheered, “give them something to think about.”
I scoffed, “them and me too.”
Lisa stepped down and hustled below. She came back a moment later with a towel for both of us. I began to dry myself and the helm seat as well. After this, we both put our bathing suits back on. Lisa wrapped herself in a cover up and I pulled on my T-shirt from earlier.
“I kind of feel bad about Sharon and Wayne and Marcus,” Lisa said.
“Nah,” I mused as I sat behind the wheel and disengaged the autopilot, “they’re having fun with Bob. Probably headed into the JP right now. We’re almost to our pass. Twenty minutes and we’ll pull into the marina, get cleaned up, go meet them all at PCI and go to dinner.”
“It was nice of Sharon to give us this little bit of time,”
Lisa mused.
I grinned, “Yes… I’ll have to buy her supper tonight. It’s only two hours apart, though… no biggie.”
I stretched myself out across the helm seat and leaned against the starboard pulpit. Lisa came over and settled herself between my legs, leaned back against my chest and sighed happily.
“Comfy?” I asked.
“Very.”
“Well, we’re about to turn into the channel for Pass-a-Grille. With this westerly breeze, we should be able to sail. There’s a little north in it, so we’ll have to haul the jib and the main will gybe over. After that, it should be easy enough. Can you handle all that for me, Mister Gonzalez there?”
She nodded, “Sure… should we just put the jib away? Won’t the main block it?”
“Not sure,” I said. “If there’s enough north in the breeze, it’ll fill both. Let’s see. Standby to come about!”
This I roared in a voice meant to carry all the way to the bow against a double reefed tops’l gale. Lisa jumped and elbowed me.
“Asshole!” She giggled.
“No seriously,” I said as I laughed, “standby to go about, sweetie britches.”
Lisa got up and made her way forward. I turned to port and the wind came around to the starboard quarter, then astern and a little past the centerline. The main shivered, luffed and slid over, fetching up against the traveler stops and filling. Lisa loosened the now weather jib sheet and hauled on the lee side, helping the big heads’l over and letting it belly out in the wind.
“Okay, belay the sheet,” I said. “This’ll work great. The closer we get to the actual inlet, the more northerly we turn, so it’ll only work in our favor.”
“Until we have to make the hard right turn to go into the canal for the marina,” Lisa said. “Then everything will luff up.”
I grinned, “True. But we’ll strike the jib before that and round to and bring the main down. Easy-peasy.”
This very thing having been done in my usual seaman like manner, we motored in to the Tierra Verde marina, slid the boat into her slip, secured her fore and aft and got cleaned up.
Lisa had the forethought to bring a change of clothes with her on her friends’ boat, so she was able to shower aboard mine and put on a simple but very fetching yellow sun dress with a low-cut scoop that left part of her tanned and ample cleavage bare. The dress also featured a narrow white band about the middle that served to call attention to her tiny waist.
She noticed me staring as she made the final adjustments and applied a very little make up in the full length mirror mounted to the inside of the now open door to the head and grinned.
“I’m not sure I have the fortitude to allow you to leave wearing that,” I said.
She chuckled, “Oh, are you going to turn into one of these dudes who doesn’t want his girl to go out looking sexy because of his wild insecurities?”
I scoffed, “no… I mean that you look so lovely and sexy that I don’t think I’ve got the willpower to avoid slipping that dress off again.”
She came over to where I was sitting and kissed me gently on the lips, “You’re cute… and just give the word.”
I had nearly lost the battle of internal wills when my phone chirped. I groaned and snatched it off the table.
“It’s Lionel Argus,” I said in mild surprise.
Lisa smiled, “Oh, I’d love to see him and Trish and the kids again…”
I accepted the call, “Steve’s Bar and Grill.”
A deep laugh, “Scotty! Funny you say that… but how are you? Haven’t heard from you since you got back from Costa Rica.”
I chuffed, “It’s a tale, Lionel. We’ll have to get together soon and I’ll regale you with it. How are you? This isn’t a business call, I hope.”
“Well… in a way, I guess it sort of is,” He said, “but not in the way you think. What’re you up to tonight?”
“I’m over in Saint Pete,” I said. “met some friends for a big sandbar party at the John’s Pass sandbar. Why?”
He laughed as if at some inside joke to which I wasn’t privy, “Oh man… that’s funny. So you mean you didn’t notice?”
I looked at Lisa and she only shrugged, “No… I didn’t… notice what, exactly?”
“Hmmm…” He said thoughtfully, “I wonder if I should just surprise you. Okay, so you know that restaurant that’s on the south side of the pass? Not the main John’s Pass side, but the other side with the marina behind it.”
“Yeah,” I said feeling lost, “my buddy Bob keeps his boat right down that canal. What about the place?”
“It’s been bought and under new ownership,” Lionel said cryptically, “and I think you need to come down this evening and check it out.”
“Okay…” I agreed. “We’re looking for a place to grab dinner for a big group anyway. You gonna give us the royal treatment? I assume you’re the guy who bought it.”
He laughed again, “Oh, you’re gonna get the royal treatment, my friend. Kind of have to, when you think about it. How many people in your party, sir?”
I chuckled, “Let’s see… I think ten or twelve. Can you guys handle that?”
“Not a problem,” He said, “Just come on down whenever you’re ready. Trish and I are already here. Kids are visiting their grandparents, though. They’ll be bummed to miss you.”
“Okay…” I said, still feeling lost. “Maybe an hour?”
We hung up and I shrugged at Lisa, “Weird. Lionel bought the old Gator’s restaurant. Wonder what he’s done with the place…”
“Let’s go find out,” She said. “Think everybody will come?”
“Certainly our guys,” I said, “and I think Bob and Trev want to hang out. Not sure about Deb… probably has to go and deal with her kids, though. So maybe Matt and Colt. Let’s see.”
I drove us off of Tierra Verde, left onto the Pinellas Bay Way and right onto Gulf Boulevard once we reached Saint Pete beach. Then we took a left onto Blind Pass road, went over that bridge onto Treasure Island and turned off Gulf Boulevard again right before the John’s Pass Bridge.
What had once been Gator’s, in several forms, was situated on the water just at the foot of the bridge. It had a long dock, which had fallen into disrepair some years back and only partially useful. The restaurant had once been a commercial fish house, I think. It was kind of long and thin with an outdoor second floor deck and a large outdoor seating deck that ran along and above the dock. This was in addition to a fairly long and spacious inside dining area and bar.
The first thing we noticed was that the parking lot was nearly full. The second thing we noticed was that the exterior had gone through a mild renovation. New landscaping, new paint job but with the continuation of the nautical theme that had marked the location for decades. Several palm trees, tropical plants and a loosely slung heavy rope rail adorned the approach to the front doors.
“Hey, the name has changed,” Lisa pointed out as I parked my red Jeep Rubicon.
I got out and turned to see. The sign above the door now read: Spindrift Bar and Grill. I looked thoughtfully at it for a second.
“What?” Lisa asked.
“Nothing…” I said, “But that’s so funny… Spindrift Press is the name I use as my publisher. I wonder if Lionel knows that.”
“I like the name,” she commented, “but what is spindrift really?”
“It’s when strong winds blow the tops of waves into a fine spray,” I said, “Kind of a nautical thing.”
“Really?” She asked with exaggerated shock, “From you? What are the odds, baby.”
“Great,” I said as we walked hand in hand toward the front door, “And I’m exposing you to Sharon and Wayne even more… will the smart assery never end?”
She cocked an eyebrow at me and grinned, “I doubt it.”
I then noticed that the standard double glass entry doors had been replaced with heavy mahogany French doors inlaid with segmented and slightly tinted glass. I liked that touch. We stepped insid
e and I was yet again surprised.
Before, you’d walk into a small foyer maybe ten feet by fifteen feet before the room expanded to the left where a stage and tables were set. You’d go a bit further and have to turn right to go along the long access of the restaurant past the bar on your left and the kitchen on your right as well as more seating.
Now, however, the foyer was enclosed by another set of French doors. A strong smell of cedar and a slight and very pleasant scent of varnish filled the space. Two long sofas sat on either side and above them were two large oil paintings of sailboats lit by old fashioned looking ship’s lanterns. The sailboats were instantly recognizable.
“Hey, that’s your boat!” Lisa exclaimed, pointing to the one on the right, “and isn’t that Lionel’s on the left?”
I nodded, “Damn… nice homage. Let’s see what other surprises lurk within.”
There were quite a few. New tables, dividing walls to organize the seating and vastly improved décor. Good hardwood on the floor with carpeted runners in the walking sections. Individual ship’s lanterns at the tables with recessed lighting above and lots of nautical paintings on the walls as well as other sailing bits and pieces. The rear wall of the restaurant was still a complete vista of glass overlooking the pass and the bridge, which was one of the location’s best features. Somebody had finally had the forethought to tint this glass wall, though. So that late afternoon summer sun didn’t broil the patrons within.
Additionally, a hostess stand was set up just to the right of the inside door. A pretty blonde stood behind it smiling at us. Yet what drew both Lisa’s and my attention was the large blown up and framed photo of me behind her.