by Scott Cook
Although I couldn’t say I was exactly pleased about things… it was mildly gratifying to confirm that Blake was indeed acting in an unspeakably malicious fashion.
“So,” I uttered slowly as I narrowed my eyes and grinned, “The caterpillar has emerged from its cocoon… as a shark… with a gun for a mouth.”
Blake’s face screwed up in consternation, “What?”
I dropped the leash and stepped on it. Morgan took a few steps forward and bared his teeth.
“Call him off, Jarvis,” Blake said, “or I’ll plug the both of you.”
“Plug?” I mocked, “Ya’ gonna ventilate me, Blake?”
Blake scowled.
“Where’s your girlfriend?” I asked coolly.
“Right here,” Graham said, emerging from almost the same hiding spot. She came to stand next to Blake and her right hand wasn’t empty, either.
It wasn’t a pistol she held, though. She held only a large Ziplock bag containing a brown manila envelope that seemed far less threatening. Her face was a mask of unrestrained malignity, however.
“Wait…” I said, genuinely bewildered. “Was that envelope here the whole time? You give him money at J. Blanchard and then come all the way out here to retrieve the documents… that were hidden out here in a bag? What the Christ?”
“Split up the transaction just in case,” Blake said with a sneer. “And a good way to lure you out here, Jarvis.”
“Ah… a ruse de guerre, eh? How’d you make me?” I asked casually. I was calm, cool and collected and this seemed to disconcert Blake. He obviously felt that holding a weapon aimed in my direction should discommode me. He should know better.
“Ted isn’t the only one at Chandler who’s doing me a favor,” Patricia Graham stated confidently. “I got a tip yesterday that a slimy P.I. would be following Ted and me around trying to prove we were doing something wrong.”
“I am not slimy…” I pouted.
“Who’d of figured it’d be Orlando’s own Magnum, P.I.,” Blake sneered. “World famous investigator and novelist. I guess it’s a good thing none of your books has a photo of you on the cover.”
“Well, you two are doing something wrong, aren’t you? May I guess, Miss Graham, or should I say Mrs. Graham… that the envelope you’re holding contains secret information regarding Chandler’s newest acquisition and plans for same?”
She grinned, “What’s it to you?”
“Uhm… it’s like… my job n’junk… it’s also a payday for me,” I said, “and evidence for Virginia Chandler to not only fire Ted’s sleazy ass, but to sue him for breach of contract… oh, and your own employer for industrial espionage or some similarly impressive sounding charge.”
“Yeah, well I’d like to see you prove that,” Ted stated with a smirk.
“Unless you plan on pulling that trigger, Tedward, I don’t see as how it wouldn’t be proven.”
“With what evidence?” Patricia asked.
“With photos and videos of you two,” I said. “Not only corporate espionage but you looked pretty chummy over at J. Blanchard. This a business and pleasure deal? You two have been awfully naughty, haven’t you? A back-room business deal sealed not by a handshake but by the commingling of your most unmentionable of portions.”
Graham screwed up her face in a very comical expression of consternation, “What the hell…?”
“Oh, I’m not worried about the camera,” Ted said. “You’re going to hand that over.”
“Uh-huh,” I stated, “Or you’re gonna pump me fulla lead, right?”
Ted nodded and grinned evilly.
“Bullshit,” I said, “Lower the piece or I’ll let my killer attack dog rip your throat out.”
Ted pulled the hammer back and cruelly narrowed his eyes, his visage distorted by unbridled malice.
“Maybe there’s another way,” Patricia said. “This is a business deal, Jarvis. You’re being paid a fee, I get that. What’s it worth for you to keep quiet?”
“A bribe?” I asked.
“Why not? You’re a businessman,” Patricia said. “Much neater and cleaner. Everybody wins. Well, everybody but that bitch Chandler. We get their new systems, Ted gets a new and better paying job… and my husband never has to know he’s not the only man in my life. His company will nearly double its market share. That’s more important to him than our marriage anyway.”
Interesting. I decided to keep her talking if I could. The longer she talked, the more likely other people would appear on the path. I didn’t think Ted, despite his soul being saturated in sin, would pull the trigger. I couldn’t prove that, but he certainly was far less likely to do it with witnesses around. He wouldn’t jeopardize his whole life over a pointless murder.
“So he doesn’t mind you stepping out on him?” I probed.
Patricia snorted, “What? As if screwing Ted to help convince him to come to our side wouldn’t benefit my hubby? Christ… it was partly his idea.”
Oh man, this was really getting juicy. Where was Jerry Springer when you needed him?
Ted’s face went pale and he half turned to her, “What? You mean you’re just fucking me so you can get your hands on that information?”
“Ted, baby, it’s not like that,” Patricia said. She was so earnest I almost believed her. “That’s just a bonus. Your position with us and the delivery of this documentation is what it’s all about. You and me… that’s for pleasure. Totally separate.”
“You got it all wrong, Johnny! I’m over the moon for ya,’ baby…” I said under my breath, envisioning the gangster movie clips that Kevin McAllister watched in the Home Alone movies. I barely managed not to laugh out loud.
Ted Blake did not look convinced. He looked pissed off instead. He turned to face her full on now, thankfully lowering the gun.
“I see how it is,” Ted was saying. “All that stuff about how you needed a real man…”
“He’s fucking with us!” Patricia implored loudly. “He’s trying to— “
I took my foot off the leash and Morgan and I charged. I barreled into Ted, sending the man toppling over sideways and his pistol spinning off across the path. I heard Morgan barking and growling behind me and hoped that he was keeping the lady at bay.
I rolled to my feet, leaving Ted sprawled in the dirt and turned. Morgan was beside me, growling at Ted. He must see him as the real threat. Patricia, on the other hand, had already moved off down the path toward the curve. I also saw that Ted’s pistol lay close to the edge of the water. I quickly scooped it up.“Morgan, guard!” I instructed and took off running after the woman.
She yelped and turned to flee, her sandals making hard work of the soft white sugary sand on the path and I covered the twenty yards between us in a second or two.
“Yoink!” I exclaimed as I reached out and yanked the envelope from her hands and stepped back.
“Nice try,” I said, tucking Ted’s pistol into my hip pocket, “but the deal is off! You’ll have to work far harder if you ever hope to defeat the Evil Doctor Jarvis!”
“Damn you!” She hissed.
“Oh, you can do better than that,” I chided amiably. “How about something like… By Lucifer’s beard! Or maybe your soul to the devil! Can you say ‘curses, foiled again!’ Or at least that no matter the cost, you shall reap a terrible vengeance upon me?”
“Fuck you.” She cranked, folding her arms across her impressive chest.
“Thank you, no,” I quipped. “I endeavor to avoid intimate congress with ne’r-do-wells.”
She huffed and looked over my shoulder to where Morgan was menacing Ted, his hackles up and teeth bared. It was all for show, of course. I don’t’ think that even if I could train him to attack that he would. Morgan was just too much of a love machine. To him this was a game. Even now I could see his tail starting to sway back and forth.
I chuckled, “Come on, Pupson, let the nice man up.”
Morgan instantly changed. He went closer to Ted and licked his face and then sau
ntered over to us. He stood close to Patricia and looked up at her in expectation of a head pat.
“I can still make it worth your while,” she told me. “What do you get for your services.”
“Five hundred a day and expenses.”
She scoffed, “How’s ten thousand dollars sound? To give me that envelope and report nothing to your boss? Ted will quit anyway and everybody wins.”
I grinned, “Ten g’s? Pretty good. Do I get the same fringe bennies as Ted?”
She raised an eyebrow and a sultry smile flittered across her face. I saw to my mild amazement that she was actually considering it, “Seriously?”
I locked eyes with her for a long moment. She had nice eyes. They were large and cocoa brown. Then I smiled broadly, “Nah. As fun as that would be, I do have a shred of integrity still fluttering from my mizzen. So no deal. You and Teddy-grahams… hey that’s pretty cute, huh…? have really screwed the pooch on this one. I’ll wish you good luck. Let’s go, buddy.”
Morgan and I started down the path back toward the Jeep. Behind me, both Patricia and Ted were spluttering and swearing. Some pretty impressive disparagements on my character, my genitals, my occupation and my parentage.
“Did you hear that, Morgan!?” I laughed, “Hahahaha! Screwed the pooch! You never smoked it! You wasn’t aware of my motions! Ain’t I a rattle!?”
I withdrew the small belly gun and opened the cylinder. There were six shiny bullets in there. I sniffed the barrel and I could tell it hadn’t been fired in a very long time, if ever. I sighed, closed the cylinder and pitched the weapon out over the lake where it promptly disappeared.
“A job well done, Pupson,” I said, “It’s good to work with you again.”
Morgan indicated that he felt the same way. It made him feel good to give people who deserved it their comeuppance.
2
I dropped Morgan off at the house, took a shower to wash away the dirt and sleaze and set the Jeep on a course for the headquarters of Chandler Homes. The confiscated brown envelope sat on the seat beside me, its very existence mocking all that was good and right in the world. I’d only been on the case for two days. It wouldn’t be a big payday, but a nice little completed job and it felt good to help out a friend as well.
Chandler Homes corporate office was located in a small and stylish business complex on 17/92 in Maitland, a small satellite community of Orlando. In addition to this facility, of course, they also operated at least eight or nine model offices in various upper-middle income communities around the Metro area.
Like the exterior of the business complex, the home builder’s owner was herself stylish and pleasant to behold. Patricia Graham had been correct about one thing. Virginia Chandler was indeed her counterpart. Prettier, sexier, smarter and single to boot.
Unlike Patricia, Virginia hadn’t built her business with a husband. She was a home-grown Orlando native who’d graduated UCF in the early nineties and had built a very successful construction company from the ground up. She’d not only grown into one of Central Florida’s premiere residential builders, she’d kept her company afloat during more than one economic storm.
Virginia stood to greet me as I was shown into her office. She was of medium height, fit and one of those pretty women who was about fifty years old but looked like she was thirty-five. I had no doubt from the cut of her fashionable business suit that there were a great many men in the area with sprained necks as a result of Virginia Chandler appearing at the pool or beach in her bikini.
“Scott, so glad to see you,” She said with a broad smile that turned a pretty face into something truly memorable. She reminded me a bit of my attorney, only not quite so tall. “You’ve got good news for me?”
“Yes, Virginia,” I said with a self-satisfied grin. “There is indeed a Santa.”
I handed her the envelope and a thumb drive. She laughed and took them from me, “You got it! Amazing… I figured we were up a creek on this one. And what’s on this drive? Please have a seat, by the way… can I get you something?”
I sat in one of her soft leather client chairs. My client chairs were only generic office fabric. Maybe someday… her fern was bigger, too.
“That’s a little photo and video record,” I stated, “starring our favorite daytime players, Patricia ‘Smooch of death’ Graham and Ted ‘What me worry?’ Blake. Brace yourself, though. There is some adult content and situations.”
She sat in her huge queen of the universe office chair and cocked an eyebrow at me by way of question.
I leaned in and spoke conspiratorially, “There’s smooching.”
She laughed again, “You’re silly, you know that?”
I angled my head modestly, “Wit makes its own welcome and levels all distinctions.”
“Emerson,” She said with a grin.
“I see I’m outclassed,” I stated. “Not to stray too far from the point, though… that thumb drive contains photos of Blake and Graham together. The video shows you just how much togetherness. Not bad photography, if I do say so myself… suitable for framing.”
Virginia smiled. It wasn’t a wolfish or predatory smile, though. And I thought I detected a hint of regret in it, “Yes… I thought better of Ted. But I suppose that money and… and other considerations were more inducement than I could offer. The most important thing is that I have these plans and this survey back. They really are innovative.”
I smiled at her, “That’s a very positive attitude. I applaud it. Unfortunately, I’m having a little difficulty being as magnanimous as you are.”
“Oh?”
I told her how I’d come by the plans. When I reached the part about Blake pulling a weapon, her jade green eyes went wide.
“So do you think I should sue him?” Virginia asked when I was finished.
I blew out my breath, “It’s not my place to instruct you in that regard. Alexandra Fairchild was the one that connected us, and I can tell you she’s a good source for counseling. Perhaps you might consider filing some sort of charge or suit against your competitor at the very least, though.”
She leaned back in her chair and tapped her chin thoughtfully, “I think you’re right. I’ll see what Alex has to say. I’m a big believer in positive energy, Scott. No mumbo jumbo, just that if you throw out a lot of shit, you get a lot back.”
I smiled at her, “A very mature attitude. Still. My personal and in no way professional opinion… I think you should take that company to the cleaners. I also think you should sue the pantalones off old Teduardo… well, wait for Patricia to put them back on and then sue them off.”
She laughed, “I think you’re right.”
“By the way, may I ask what this is all about? What’s so vital about a survey and what innovations are you planning on incorporating into your community that would incite a corporate raid?”
“I’ll tell you… as long as you promise not to go into business against me,” Virginia said with a wink.
“I promise nothing!”
She smiled, “Well, as you know, I’ve done some work with EcoLife… before your little adventure in Costa Rica and before the Palmer’s got divorced. There has been quite a lot of innovation in photovoltaic technology over the past few years. You can make large building exteriors with built in solar, float silicon cells on large bodies of open water, create a sort of solar skin for use on all kinds of stuff… there’s even photovoltaic fibers being developed that you could wear or hang.”
I leaned forward a little, “Or make sails out of?”
She smiled, “That’d be a great one. How many square feet are your boat’s sails when fully deployed?”
“Hmm… I think something like four to five hundred square feet. I’ve also got an eighty-watt panel. It’s about three feet by two or so…”
“So,” She continued, “imagine a surface eighty times that size. It’s probably not as efficient, so let’s say that it’s only fifty times as much power… that’s still four thousand watts per hour.”
She laughed, “Exactly. Well, we’ve worked a deal with EcoLife to integrate both skins and fibers into our new homes. That includes coating the entire roof in solar, which you can’t see because it’s possible to make the skin look like anything, including shingles and tiles. We’re also adding window treatments which both reduce heat thanks to the tinting and simultaneously generate power. Then we offer a range of curtains and blinds that also contain solar fibers.”
“Pretty cool,” I enthused. “Although a big upfront cost, I imagine.”
She shrugged, “Yeah, certainly more than standard materials. However, the costs are falling. Owners get a tax break and when our system is hooked up to a bank of lithium-ion batteries, we can save them anywhere from fifty to one-hundred percent on their electric bill. We’ve got several homes that are only used part of the year that generate enough juice to actually add to the grid. Imagine the power company sending you a check for a change.”
“Awesome,” I declared. “Sounds like something worth stealing, for sure. Yet why doesn’t Regal homes or some other builder simply cut the same deal with EcoLife?”
“Because it’s an exclusive deal,” Virginia explained. “At least for the next twenty-four months. These documents are detailed plans for how we integrate their systems. If somebody got their hands on it, they could duplicate our proprietary methods with other products. This community we’re planning is ambitious. It’s a flagship that will attract the kind of homeowners who can afford an extra ten or fifteen percent in the construction cost to integrate this stuff. Green tech is very trendy now.”
“I see,” I said. “Well, I’m glad I could bring old Ted and Patricia up with a round turn, then. Clap a stopper over their capers… the dogs!”
“Oh, you’re a sailor all right… and very silly. I think that’s one of the things Lisa loves most about you.”
