To Honor We Call You: A Florida Action Adventure Novel (Scott Jarvis Private Investigator Book 9)

by Scott Cook

  “Me too,” I said with a smile.

  “And you’re… all right… with what happened?”

  I shrugged, “It is what it is, Aleja.”

  “You’re not angry?”

  “No, why would I be?”

  She sighed slightly, “Because my foolish daughter left a man such as you for a silly job… and even started up with another man.”

  I shrugged, “That’s not why she left, really. If she needed to go away to figure some things out for herself… well, then that was what she needed to do. I’m in love with her, but I’m not her keeper. Lisa has to make her own decisions and in her own way. It’s the only way. And after all… she came back, so I suppose it was worth it in the long run.”

  Aleja’s pretty brown eyes met mine, “You’re wise for a young man. And I’m so glad. You’re so good for my daughter and I’m very grateful she’s with you… I just wish she wasn’t such a prude.”

  I laughed at that, “She’s hardly a prude, Aleja. I just think she feels awkward talking about sex because you’re her mom and all.”

  She nodded, “Oh, I know this… but I want you to know that I’m delighted for her. Making love is a wonderful thing and I know, in spite of how she’s acting now, how it is between you two. She and I have talked, you know. It’s just that with you and me here… anyway, the passion you two have is special and you’re very lucky. So please don’t feel embarrassed or like you must hold back. I meant what I said. Make love every chance you get. It pleases this old woman to know what happiness my Lisa has now.”

  I laughed and reached out for her. I picked her up and placed her on my lap as she giggled, “Let me explain something to you, young lady… You are not an old woman! I have literally… and I use that term the way it’s supposed to be used… literally met models half your age who weren’t half as beautiful. You’re vibrant. A youthfulness and beauty that’s stunning. You radiate sexual energy… the energy of life… like the sun and I absolutely guarantee you that there are women in their twenties who hate you just because you walk down the beach in a bikini.”

  She laughed uproariously, “My daughter is a very lucky girl.”

  I kissed her and hugged her tight, “Almost half as lucky as me.”

  Lisa appeared from the short hallway into the suite and put her hands on her hips, “Oh, so it’s like that? I leave you two alone for two minutes and you start making out?”

  I scoffed, “I wouldn’t run to the store for milk, I was you, babe.”

  “You two are loco,” Aleja said. She nimbly dismounted and moved into the kitchen and tended to her food.

  “So where’s old George?” I asked, moving over to the wet bar and poking around. “Can I make anybody anything?”

  “There is a pitcher of Mojitos in the fridge,” Aleja called out. “He should be here any moment.”

  As if on cue, the door to the garage opened and George Davis strode in. George was a fairly athletic man. He was maybe an inch or two taller than Aleja, making him about five nine or so. His salt and pepper hair was thinning a little and he had a pleasant good looking face that was far more likely to smile than not. He wore navy blue dress slacks and a matching golf shirt with white stripes. He came in and kissed his wife and then turned a big smile on Lisa and me.

  “Hey, kids!” George said. “Welcome back. Glad to see ya’. How was the drive down?”

  I pumped his hand vigorously, “Nice to see you again, George. Not bad. Glad to be off I-95 though.”

  George chuckled good-naturedly and hugged Lisa.

  “You’re looking good, George,” Lisa said with a smile. Although she had her reservations about George, he was a hard guy not to like.

  “Your mom keeps me young,” He said. “In spite of well fed! Damn, Allie, that smells delish. So Scott… when is your meeting with Tavares?”

  “A couple of hours from now,” I said. “Do you know him?”

  “I’ve met him a few times,” George replied, starting to pour out Mojitos. “Real estate investing seminars, meet ups and the like. Seems like a nice guy.”

  “Know anything about him?” I asked. “Anything I should know about?”

  George shrugged, “Not really. Usual scuttlebutt. Came from nothing and made something of himself. Not a dissimilar story from Aleja, actually.”

  “True,” Lisa’s mom acknowledged as she started to put food into serving dishes. Lisa went over to help her. “I came over as a Mariel boat person too. My mother and I when I was a little girl. I may have even known him for all I know.”

  “Other than good things,” George said. “I don’t know anything about Don Ramon Tavares. Sorry.”

  I waved that off and sipped my drink. It was thankfully strong. Aleja was a bartender after my own heart. I wasn’t usually a fan of Mojitos. They always seemed too sweet but Aleja’s were balanced just right and quite refreshing.

  “I’d rather hear a good report,” I remarked.

  “Come boys,” Aleja said cheerily. “It’s time to fill your bellies.”

  “Well, one outta two ain’t bad,” I said with a chuckle.

  “Day’s young,” Lisa whispered as she passed me holding a serving dish.

  “How are your grandparents?” Aleja asked me as we sat out on the pool deck at a six person table.

  “Great,” I said, helping to serve out rice and the crispy vaca frita. “We won the race. And they dropped an interesting bomb on me, too.”

  “Yeah, turns out he’s a Cook,” Lisa said with a grin.

  George looked confused, “We already knew that, Lis.”

  Lisa laughed, “No, not a food maker guy… which he’s a great one… I mean he’s a direct descendant of Captain James Cook, RN, FRS… from Cook’s illegitimate granddaughter, Catherine.”

  “Oh?” Aleja asked with interest. “Wasn’t he the one who discovered Australia or the Great Barrier Reef or something?”

  I nodded, “One of the great explorers of the eighteenth century… of all time, really. Turns out Catherine married a Jarvis in Boston during the war of 1812 or something.”

  “She was a captain,” Lisa said. “Fought the French and everything.”

  “Cool,” George said, although his interest was more polite I thought. “Well… what are you two planning on doing for supper? I’ve reserved a few slots for us on the Bay Queen if you guys are up for it.”

  “Sounds great,” I said, digging in. Nothing better than homemade Cuban food.

  Lisa giggled, “Even as you eat lunch, you’re thinking about supper, aren’t you?”

  “Certainly not,” I sniffed, paused significantly and asked: “What do they serve aboard the boat?”

  The building in which Tavares’ worked was located in downtown Miami off Biscayne Boulevard. His actual office was on the eleventh floor of his building and offered a spectacular view of the waterfront and you could see the AT&T amphitheater and even part of Bayfront Park through the solid back wall of glass. In front of this sat a huge granite desk, set off by leather chairs that matched a leather sofa placed against one wall. A wet bar sat along the other and several tropical indoor plants gave one the impression of natural comfort.

  “Welcome, my friend,” Tavares said, meeting me at the door and shaking my hand. “Thank you for being prompt. I am very glad to see you.”

  “Thank you, Don Ra… Ray,” I replied with a smile. The man really did exude a Don Ramon quality.

  “I was hoping I would get to meet the lovely Lisa,” Ray said as he moved to the bar. “May I offer you something?”

  “Maybe a little whiskey on the rocks, if you have it,” I said, settling into one of the plush leather client chairs. “She’s spending the afternoon with her mother. Aleja Davis. Her husband George says he’s met you.”

  “Ah!” Ray said, handing me three fingers of pale amber liquid with a few cubes floating in it. “Yes, I know George. Doing quite well for himself… wait… I believe I’ve met his wife… Aleja? Yes, a very beautiful woman… she has a daughter your
age? I thought that George was, how do you say… robbing the cradle.”

  I laughed, “I know what you mean. She is a few years younger than him, but she’s in fact forty-seven and her daughter is twenty-eight.”

  “Extraordinary,” Ray said with a smile. He reached out with his own glass and we clinked. “He is a very lucky man.”

  I sipped the good bourbon and found it smooth, “All right, Ray… tell me a bit more about the cargo ship and the shrimpers.”

  “Well, I operate two shrimp boats,” Tavares began. “The Angelique T… that’s my mother, by the way… and the Rebecca D. Both are permanently moored at Robbie’s, one of the largest commercial marinas in the lower Keys.”

  I nodded, “I think I know it… on Stock Island at the end of shrimp road, right?”

  “Yes,” He said. “After the incident where the Sheriff’s department raided the Rebecca D., the vessel hasn’t gone fishing in the nearly eight days since. Her captain and first mate quit the day Sheriff Pelton showed up as I mentioned.”

  I frowned, “That’s interesting… did they know it was you who sent Jeff?”

  “You know him?”

  “We’ve… worked together.”

  Tavares nodded, “I don’t know if they knew I was the one who called. Yet the captain, Tom Morris was very indignant when he called me. Said he wouldn’t work where people suspected him and came onto his boat and treated him and his crew like criminals. He was quite indignant.”

  “What about the mate?” I asked.

  “His brother, Earl,” Tavares said. “A shame, because they’ve been shrimping in the Keys all their lives. They know the waters and the boat always turns a profit.”

  I thought on that, “Hmm… I’d like any info you have on them. What of the crew?”

  Tavares sighed, “I’ve been paying them to stay with the boat until I can arrange a new skipper and mate. They’ve been seeing to some maintenance issues that have been needing attention.”

  I nodded sagely. A man who truly understood the ways of all things, this Jarvis. A deep old phile as they say on the street, “How about the cargo ship?”

  “The Theresa Maxwell,” Tavares said with a grin. “Named for my wife… her maiden name. She is three hundred feet long and can make the Miami to Costa Rica run in just under four days. Generally, a round trip is about ten to twelve days, depending on weather and how busy the port in Limon is.”

  I was just about to ask about her crew when the office door burst open and a squat man in his late thirties rushed in. He wore a rumpled suit and looked flustered, “Don Ramon! There has been a fire at the Sunrise Inn!”

  “A fire?” Tavares asked calmly. “Has the fire department been called?”

  “Si!” the man, obviously Cuban as well, said excitedly. His balding pate gleamed with a sheen of nervous perspiration. “They’re on the scene, but you must come at once!”

  Tavares sighed, “Pedro, please calm down. Scott, this is my property manager, Pedro Martinez.”

  Martinez nodded at me but still looked frantic, “We must go, Don Ramon.”

  “Ay, ay, ay…” Ray sighed, “Evidently my friend here thinks I’m a firefighter, Scott… forgive me… what are you doing for dinner this evening?”

  “Well, George wants to take us out on his dinner cruise boat,” I said.

  Tavares frowned, “Oh, I see… well, I’m having a dinner party aboard my yacht this evening. We’re going to do something similar. Cruise around the bay and out into the Atlantic… perhaps you and the family would like to join us? It’ll allow us to chat a bit more, since I have to cut this meeting short. I’m very sorry.”

  “I’ll throw the idea out there,” I said, standing.

  Tavares grinned, “It’s just a bunch of rich people eating and drinking for free on a hundred and sixty foot yacht.”

  “Only a hundred and sixty feet? Well… I suppose we can slum it… it is for a good cause and all,” I said with a grin.

  “Let me know,” Tavares chuckled. “I’ll get Pedro calmed down and we’ll talk later.”

  I smiled and followed the two men out.

  6

  The sun had just eased its lower rim below the Miami skyline when Tavares’ yacht, Reina de las Olas, left Biscayne Bay and entered the Atlantic proper. There was a light breeze blowing and only the mildest of seas running. The yacht was so large that the gentle heave and send of the ship was virtually unnoticeable.

  The vessel was luxurious to be sure, yet it wouldn’t be one that I’d choose for myself. My tastes centered more on sailing vessels and when it came to large power boats, I liked the sport fisherman or even a trawler. Tavares yacht was certainly built for maximum comfort and with the least exposure to the sea. The elements were meant to be enjoyed from afar, not to come into any actual contact with the quality, it seemed.

  Most of the cabins were below the gunwales of the main deck, seven in all along with the engine room, crew’s quarters and a small crew’s lounge. The main deck was almost entirely enclosed except for a small open foredeck with sun pads. The superstructure stretched all the way across the beam and featured a large saloon aft, spacious dining compartment forward of this, then the galley, a gym and then a plush owner’s suite with a beautiful port, starboard and forward view. The upper deck was an outdoor lounge that was at least fifty feet long and the full width of the vessel, about thirty-five feet. Forward of this was another enclosed structure with a sky lounge, media room, office, crew’s and captain’s quarters and the bridge.

  Stored high up atop the bridge was a twenty-five foot runabout tender kept just aft of the flying bridge.

  It was in this surprisingly spacious section that I stood with Tavares and Lisa. The flying bridge had a hard top that covered the three-person helm, two wrap around benches and an outdoor kitchen aft, complete with grill, refrigeration and wet bar.

  “I’m glad you decided to come,” Ray said as he mixed several drinks. “It’s a beautiful night and I love to get out of the Bay.”

  “Agreed,” I said. “It’s gorgeous out here.”

  “So where are we going?” Lisa asked.

  “Oh, we’ll cruise up to Port Everglades and then come back down the intracoastal in the dark,” Ray said, handing her a Muay Thai. “Give the guests something to look at as we go. How do you like my little toy boat, Lisa?”

  “It’ll do,” she said with a brilliant smile.

  Ray laughed, “I like her. A firebrand.”

  “Yup, a real smarty pants,” I said, excepting a Tom Collins, “but she’s pretty cute… so I guess she’ll do.”

  Just then another woman came up through the deck hatch to join us. She was only two or three inches shorter than Tavares, making her very close to six feet. The woman wore cream colored capris, a scoop necked peach blouse that exposed a tasteful bit of her plentiful cleavage and a light cream colored jacket over the blouse. Around her long sleek neck hung a strand of large and lustrous pearls that were set off by her dark mocha skin.

  The woman was model pretty and I guessed she was probably in her early forties although she looked ten years younger than that. She pressed her lithe and graceful figure against her husband as she kissed him.

  “You don’t mind if I join you?” Theresa asked with a brilliant smile.

  “We’d be delighted, my love,” Ray said. “Have you met my guests, Scott and Lisa yet?”

  Theresa shook our hands, “Not yet. Been a little busy getting everybody settled in. I did say hello to George and Aleja, though. Such a lovely woman, your mother.”

  “It’s our night for loveliness, Mrs. Tavares,” I said, sketching a little bow.

  “Oh, this one is trouble I see,” Theresa laughed.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Lisa quipped.

  Ray began mixing another Muay Thai for his wife, “Why don’t we sit and relax for a few minutes.”

  The Tavares sat on one angle of the wrap around sofa bench and Lisa and I took the other.

  “I hope w
e’re not under dressed,” Lisa said. She wore a simple but very pretty tropical print sundress and low wedges and I wore topsiders without socks, khaki slacks and a light blue Guayabera who’s raised vertical patterns were colored white. Ray was wearing about the same as me except for a rather expensive looking golf shirt.

  “Not at all,” Theresa said. “This is supposed to be a casual party. Besides, the two of you are gorgeous. The envy of all of these folks, trust me.”

  “I like that shirt,” Ray said. “You appreciate Cuban things, huh?”

  I grinned and patted Lisa on her thigh, “Oh, God yeah.”

  That got a laugh from everybody. I breathed in the rich salt-laden air of the sea and smiled. The sky was mostly clear, with just a few sparse puffy clouds overhead, now turning cotton candy pink in the dwindling sunlight.

  “You’re a sailor for sure,” Theresa noted. “You can always tell a person who loves the ocean.”

  I smiled at her, “So Ray, if it’s not inappropriate to talk business now… can you tell me a bit more about your situation?”

  Theresa nodded enthusiastically, “Nobody will miss us for a bit, babe.”

  “You know about the situation on the Rebecca D.,” Ray began, sipping his own Tom Collins. “And before Pedro interrupted this afternoon, you were asking about the Theresa Maxwell I believe.”

  “Yes,” I said, smiling at the woman for whom the ship was named. “Although… what ever happened with that fire?”

  Ray shrugged, “It wasn’t too bad… one of the rooms caught. Probably a guest left a cigarette burning or something. It spread to the two adjacent rooms, unfortunately. However, no one was in any of them and nobody was hurt. Fortunately the two adjacent rooms were vacant. That building has been in need of some attention anyway, so it’s a good excuse to renovate.”

  “Pretty good attitude,” Lisa remarked. “Considering you’re looking at fifty or a hundred grand in repair costs, I bet.”

  “More like half a million,” Theresa said. “If we rehab the whole building. The Sunrise consists of eight small six room buildings. It’s a small property but right on Washington and right on the beach, so it’s pricey.”