That Way Lies Madness: A Florida Action Adventure Novel (Scott Jarvis Private Investigator Book 8)

by Scott Cook

  “Hang on,” I said to Lisa. “I’m coming aboard to haul him up. Get the winch handle out and put it in the halyard winch.”

  The deck of my boat was about three feet off the water. It was close enough that I could get my hands on the chain plate and swing a leg up until my foot rested on it too. Then I heaved myself up and under the lifeline onto the side deck.

  “How’s our guest?” I asked Lisa as I climbed into the cockpit and she kissed me.

  “Quiet as a tit mouse,” She said with a grin. “And I do mean tit.”

  I looked over to where Cynthia lay. Lisa had put a throwable cushion behind her head and a towel over her. The towel had slipped and one of her tanned breasts was exposed in the moonlight. Cynthia’s long legs were angled over the portside jib winch and her feet were between the lifelines.

  “Looks comfy,” I quipped. “Okay, you tail and I’ll crank. You okay down there, Greg?”

  “I’m alive,” Foster said weakly.

  “Here we go!” I called out and began to crank the winch handle. With Lisa tailing, meaning that she was pulling on the fall, or loose end, of the halyard as it rolled off the winch to keep tension on the winch, I began to slowly haul Foster’s dead weight up the side.

  “Sing out, there!” I called to him. “How ya’ doin’?”

  I heard a grunt, “Okay… I think I can walk up…”

  He was pushing off the side of the boat with his feet, making it a little easier for me to haul him bodily up the side. Still, I had to crank hard on the ratchetted winch. More than once, I had to turn in the opposite direction. Both ways turned the winch clockwise, but one direction with the handle was slow speed and the other a higher gear.

  Foster’s head and shoulders appeared over the level of the deck. In the background, I heard the distant thumping of a rotor beating the night air.

  “Coasties are coming!” Lisa exclaimed.

  I cranked and sweated, “Great… perfect friggin’ timing…”

  Foster was waist high over the chain plate now and got his feet aboard and hauled himself up and over the lifelines. He sat heavily on the cabin top, huffing and feebly trying to get the bowline from around his chest.

  “Get him a towel, huh?” I suggested to Lisa. “Don’t need to advertise just how cold the water is.”

  “Oh… real funny…” Foster said through his gasps. He did manage to look over and grin at me though.

  I went forward and sat next to him, “You all right?”

  “What the hell happened?” He asked.

  “It’s a long story,” I said. “And I don’t know how it starts. All I know is that we were four miles off when we saw a flash from a distant boat. We rushed in to investigate and I found you and Mrs. Bartlett in coitus interruptus. I had to carry you both out one at a time.”

  “Thank God you were close,” Foster said, gripping my arm.

  “Oh yeah… little excitement and a peep show into the bargain,” I said with a grin.

  “Oh… what about Doug?” Foster asked suddenly.

  “I assume that was the other man aboard?” I asked. “I’m sorry… the explosion got him. No chance. Anybody else with you?”

  Foster sighed and shook his head, “No… just the three of us. I suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing out with Cynthia. It’s obvious you know who she is.”

  “Later,” I said, helping him into the cockpit and to sit on the vacant starboard bench. Lisa appeared with another towel and I gave it to Foster who wrapped it around his middle.

  “Greg…” Cynthia’s ghostly voice muttered. “Greg… you there?”

  “I’m here, Cynth,” Foster said. “Just lie easy now. We’re safe.”

  I looked at Lisa who already had two bottles of water in her hands. I let her pass me and I went down the companionway to call the Coast Guard again. Before I could pick up the mic, though, somebody beat me to it.

  “Slip’N’Out… Slip’N’Out… come in, please.”

  That was odd. The voice sounded garbled or filtered or something. I shrugged and picked up the mic, “Slip’N’Out here. Go ahead.”

  “Always clean up the mess,” the voice said flatly. “Never leave loose ends lying about. A sailor like you knows that.”

  I felt my blood run cold. This wasn’t one of the Coast Guard crew. The filtered voice could only belong to one person.

  “Shade…” I breathed, gripping the talk button with all my might. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

  A laugh, “We speak at last, my friend. Or perhaps I should say my opponent?”

  “Meaning we’re enemies,” I said in a hard tone. “Considering what happened to Wayne and Sheila… there’s nothing else we could be.”

  “Well… I already told you that was not my doing.”

  “And maybe I don’t believe you,” I retorted. If I could keep him talking, especially on channel sixteen, the official Coast Guard emergency band, then maybe they could triangulate.

  The modulated voice laughed again. This time it was a hearty laugh, a laugh that might be unbalanced… and seemed somehow familiar. That was probably just my imagination, though.

  “Oh, Scott my boy… you know that sloppy work wasn’t me. And you also know that Mr. Lissard paid the price. It was him.”

  “So why try and kill Foster?” I asked. “What’s he done to you?”

  There was a long pause, “He’s alive? Interesting… did you rescue him? Anybody else?”

  He couldn’t see. That meant he was either too far to confirm or only guessing? That meant that I finally knew something Shade didn’t. I felt a surge of childish delight at that. It was a small thing, but the first thing that felt like a victory since Shade first made himself known.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” I said. “Why don’t you tell me what you want… and who you really are.”

  Another hearty laugh, “Oh, come now! That’d make things too easy! End the game too soon! And who am I to deprive you of the pleasure you’ll get from solving the riddle? This is a contest, Scott. A battle of wills and of wits. Which one of us will best the other? It’s true I have an unfair advantage now… but I need one against such an opponent.”

  I laughed now, “Why don’t you give me a clue, then? A little something to at least make the game more challenging for you.”

  “All right… since it’s time for me to say good-bye, I’ll leave you with this… what can be read all day but is often only heard at dawn. Have a good night, my worthy foe.”

  “Shade…” I said and then more vehemently, “Shade!”

  “Slip’N’Out… Slip’N’Out… this is Coast Guard helo Charlie Golf one-niner-seven-seven papa. Do you copy?”

  The heavy rhythm of the rotors was nearly on top of us now. Shade was gone and I knew he wouldn’t come back. I sighed and depressed the mic’s talk button.

  “Roger, CG-1977P… I read you.”

  Chapter 15

  “Nice to see you again, Mr. Jarvis,” The female pilot stated. “I don’t see the other boat, did she go down? Were you able to establish communication or find any survivors?”

  “That you, Simms?” I asked, her voice registering in my memory.

  We’d met back in October after the incident involving several kidnap victims and a hair-raising stormy night rescue at sea. Simms had been the Coast Guard search and rescue helo pilot then as well.

  “Affirmative,” She said.

  I filled her in on what had happened aboard Foster’s boat. Then an idea struck me.

  “Did you hear my conversation a moment ago?” I inquired.

  A pause, “yeah… rather strange… what was that Shade stuff all about?”

  Her airship was now hovering about a hundred feet up and a few hundred feet off my port side. Even from that distance, I could feel the breeze from her rotor blades wafting down the companionway. The force of the effect was actually kicking up a mild ripple on the otherwise flat calm sea.

  “Long story, Lieutenant,” I replied. “Do you have radar capab
ility? From the sound of that conversation, Shade must be able to see me… any vessels within visual range? Or even radar range? It could be that he simply timed his call after the explosion.”

  Another pause in which I knew she was probably trying to figure out what the hell I was talking about.

  “Uhm… what’s going—“

  “Simms, he’s a madman who’s already bombed a cop, tried to murder several other people and done some other things… and is probably listening right now!” I implored. “Please just tell me what’s on your screen.”

  “Three vessels within range,” she replied. “Not including a tanker coming out from under the Skyway. One headed into Pass-a-Grille pass, another about fifteen miles offshore and another off Madeira Beach, I’d say. That’s it.”

  “Maybe he’s on the beach…” I mused. “We’re fine out here, Simms. I’m headed into the pass now to go into the Tierra Verde Marina. I’ve got two people here who have head wounds that should probably be looked at. If you want to head in… maybe you can scan the beach?”

  Another pause, “I need to stay on station until the SAR boat arrives… but I can duck over and do a quick flyby over Pass-a-Grille. I’ll have medics meet you at the marina.”

  I went up on deck again after acknowledging. Foster was sitting up and drinking from his water bottle. Cynthia was still lying where Lisa and I had placed her. She was conscious, although a little laconic. She sipped from her own bottle and eyed me warily.

  “Head in,” I told Lisa. “Give er’ all’s she’s got.”

  “Was that really Shade you were talking to?” Lisa asked as I sat on the deck just in front of the companionway. There’s an old saying that only assholes and admirals sit there. I figured I met at least one of those qualifications.

  “I think so,” I said. “And he is close… he could see us out here. Even with binocs, he couldn’t be more than seven or eight miles away, max. Which means a boat out here… but there aren’t any close enough… or standing on the beach.”

  “You think Shade did this?” Foster asked.

  I cocked an eyebrow at him, “Don’t you? Whose boat was that, by the way?”

  “I suppose so… the boat is mine… or was,” Foster said glumly. “Doug is… was… a buddy of mine. Local delivery captain. He agreed to come along and take the wheel so we could relax and enjoy the evening.”

  Lisa had a perfectly blank look on her face. So devoid of expression was it that I almost laughed, because I knew she was intentionally trying not to show anything. I looked down at Cynthia, whose back was up against the doghouse and right next to me.

  “I’m sorry we had to renew our acquaintance in such a way, Mrs. Bartlett,” I said. “I hope you’ve been well?”

  She chuffed, “Oh, I’m sure this is horrible for you, Scott. I’ll bet you’re just loving this.”

  “Not at all,” I said. “This is not how I expected my evening to go for sure.”

  “Well, aside from seeing me in this… compromising position,” Cynthia sniffed.

  Lisa coughed significantly.

  “Oh, you have something to say?” Cynthia asked archly.

  “I read The Ledger,” Lisa told her firmly. “Aside from the fact that I’m in it… I know all about your dealings with Scott, Mrs. Bartlett. Being seen naked is not what you’re worried about, is it?”

  Cynthia smirked, “Not at all, honey. I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. I meant the fact that I’m no longer Mrs. Bartlett. As if you didn’t know that, mister detective.”

  I looked at Foster and he nodded slightly, “Thought I was an adulterer, eh?”

  I shrugged, “Not my place to judge, frankly. And I wasn’t sure of your own marital status. Just thinking that screwing around with a billionaire’s wife could be bad for business.”

  “Well, it isn’t,” Cynthia said testily. “After you’re little scene at Bob Jensen’s office and the big reveal… John sort of cleaned house, you might say. No more Amanda Cardanack… she had to move her firm out of town. No more wifey, either. I got a laughable settlement and the boot.”

  “Exactly how funny was it?” Lisa inquired with a smirk playing on her lips.

  Cynthia snorted, “Fifty million… can you believe that?”

  “No,” Lisa said honestly. “No, I can’t.”

  I had to stifle a laugh. I knew that Lisa was thinking what I was… that fifty large was an awful generous parting gift for a marriage that hadn’t lasted more than two or three years. And Cynthia probably felt shorted. Amazing.

  “Friends,” I said to my guests. “We have a great deal to talk about… but for the moment, excuse me…”

  I ducked back down below and got out a pair of shorts and T-shirt from the built in dresser on the starboard side of the saloon. I also pulled out a pair of sweat pants and an old sweatshirt that I kept on board as part of the emergency just in case stash. The shorts and shirt would probably fit Foster. My sweats, although far too big for her, would at least give Cynthia some modicum of modesty. I went back up into the cockpit and handed out the clothes.

  “Lisa, as you come in the pass, keep to the north side near the jetty,” I said, holding up my monocular and stepping up on top of the cabin doghouse. I went forward and leaned against the mast. “I want to see if anybody’s over there.”

  I saw the Coast Guard helo’s lights off the port bow. Simms was already there and scanning.

  I had purchased a hand held VHF radio for myself at Christmas, and I turned this on to channel sixteen. Simms reported nothing that looked unusual to her. A few people on the beach enjoying the post sunset evening. Maybe somebody on the breakwater but she couldn’t quite tell.

  I put the night vision monocular to my eye and cranked the magnification all the way up. With the enhanced vision and mag, I was able to scan the breakwater, still several miles off my port bow.

  The long stone pile breakwater extended past the beach and out into the gulf for several hundred yards. The top of this jetty was a flattened surface that visitors, fisherman and amorous couples liked to walk out on. There were even a few benches placed along the water facing into the pass.

  I thought I saw something. Maybe halfway out, near the last bench was something… a shape huddled behind it. Even with the night vision I couldn’t quite tell. I frowned and headed aft.

  “I’m gonna go in to the beach,” I announced, slipping behind the wheel next to Lisa and started to loosen the hoist lines for the dinghy davits.

  “Now?” She asked.

  “If not now when,” I asked with a smile. “If not me, who?”

  “What for?”

  ”You guys are boring.”

  She elbowed me lightly, “Be serious. Haven’t you done enough action movie shit for one night?”

  “It’s like nine-forty,” I quipped. “Night’s young.”

  “Scott…”

  “I saw somebody on the jetty,” I explained as I loosened the lines and let them fall to the deck just forward of the pulpit railing. “I need to check it out. Shade could see us, Lisa…”

  “I don’t like you doing this alone,” She said and bit her lip.

  It was awfully endearing. I had to bend down and kiss her, “You want to go instead?”

  “I’d rather come with you,” She said and then grinned. “Don’t say it.”

  I chuckled.

  “What the hell is this?” Cynthia asked.

  “It’s called my job,” I said. “What do you care?”

  “You’re leaving us!” Cynthia said a little dramatically.

  “Lisa and your… boyfriend are still here… so what?” I asked.

  “You want a hand?” Foster offered.

  I shook my head, “You two need to go in and get checked out. You can help Lisa bring the boat in and tie up. I think the Coasties have a medic waiting at the dock. I’ll buzz in and then buzz across the pass and be maybe twenty minutes behind you.”

  The new five horse Tohatsu outboard was already mounted to the dink. All I
had to do was release the hoist lines from their jam cleats and lower it in, start it up and putter in around the rocks. A quick look over my shoulder showed we were nearly parallel with the breakwater.

  “Slow ahead,” Mr. Hooper… if you please,I said to Lisa.

  She scoffed as she throttled back to minimum, “Yeah… you heard em’… slow ahead… I can go slow ahead… why don’t ya’ come down here and chum some’a this shit.”

  I laughed as I let the dink lower into the water, “nice Jaws line!”

  “Is it even worth me saying be careful?” Lisa asked as I climbed over the railing and the stern ladder which was secured to it.

  I kissed her, a deep and lingering kiss, “Always am, love. Take care of the kids.”

  Lisa had put the boat in neutral but there was still a little way on her. When I was in the dink, I released the hoists from the cradles that supported the inflatable and began to slowly drift back.

  Unfortunately, the cradles that supported the tender were made from a five foot long synthetic two by four with a heavy half inch nylon rope slung beneath the dinghy that fed through both sides of the cradle. There were two, one fore and one aft. The composite board helped to spread the pressure of the rope so that it merely held the dinghy up rather than squeezed the air-filled sponsons.

  It worked well, the only flaw being that I had to loosen the ropes and pull them from beneath. This was easy for the bow but a bit of a pain in the stern where the pointed ends of the pontoons stuck out and the motor’s lower unit became an obstacle, too.

  I got them undone and stowed on the wooden floor without much aggravation, though. Then I lowered the engine, choked it a few times and got her going. By now, Slip’N’Out had begun to drift further away.”

  “Got it!” I called out, “Head in, I’ll be with you shortly.”

  “I love you!” Lisa called back.

  “I love you too,” I said. “It’ll be okay.”

  I’m not sure what she said, but when Lisa turned back to the wheel, I distinctly heard the words shut the Christ up and bitch before the sailboat’s inboard throttled up and drowned them out.

  I sat on the starboard sponson and gunned the little motor. At full throttle, with a single person in the dink, I could actually plane off and run about ten knots. I wasn’t going to set any speed records, but it did the trick.