by Scott Cook
“Not my wit, charm, culinary ability and dazzling blue eyes?”
“Meh.”
I laughed, “Careful, Virginia… too much time around us and you’ll turn into an incorrigible wise ass as well. Okay, so I get the plans… but why did Ted steal the survey too?”
Virginia frowned and gazed upward at her ceiling for a long moment. It appeared to me that she was trying to come to a decision.
“I’m sorry,” I offered after a few seconds of silence. “It’s none of my business. Perhaps my question was impertinent?”
She smiled, “Oh no… it’s not that… it’s… well, I suppose I should probably confide in you. It may come up again. The land is located off Funie Steed Road not far from where it meets Formosa Gardens Boulevard, you know where that is?”
I nodded, “Yeah, out in Davenport. I know somebody that lives off Florence Villa. Lot of water out that way, isn’t there?”
“Yes. A chain of small lakes that runs north and south. Anyway, the place I picked up borders the water… and the survey found some interesting things.”
I waited.
“There was evidence of very old habitation,” She stated.“Possibly pre-Columbian. Maybe even… graves.”
“Interesting… but so what?”
She sighed, “Well, if somebody wanted to make something of it, try to establish that it was a Calusa burial ground or something… you know about the Calusa?”
I nodded, “Yes, they ruled most of South Florida for quite a long time before the Spanish arrived.”
“Right, and sometimes new finds require archeological studies,” Virginia went on. “Studies that could hold up the development for years.”
“Uh-huh,” I mused. “Long enough for your exclusive deal to expire with EcoLife… although I bet I can make a phone call for you on that regard… but Virginia, if it really is a Calusa site… shouldn’t it be studied? After all, as I understand it, they didn’t really come up this far north as far as anyone knows.”
“It will be,” She assured me. “I’ll see to it. Yet I can still begin work in the meantime. It’s not enough to prevent development, but had Graham and his wife gotten their hands on this stuff you rescued… they could’ve made big trouble for us.”
I shrugged, “I’m glad to have helped then.”
Virginia grinned. “Well, I do thank you and I do owe you some money, don’t I?”
“You already gave me a two-day retainer,” I said, holding up a hand. “Honestly, that pretty much covers it.”
“Nonsense, you did me a huge service,” She smiled and withdrew a checkbook, “A pretty dull case for you, huh? Not really book worthy?”
I laughed, “That’s perfectly fine by me. The book worthy cases can be a bit trying.”
She wrote quickly and tore the check out, “I’m throwing in an extra thousand anyway. By the way, I’ve got some other work, potentially. How busy is Lisa right now?”
“Thank you,” I said, “that’s very generous. As for our schedule… why not give her a call? I think she’s got some time.”
“Okay, I’ll do that. I’d hire you, but it’s more boring businessy type stuff.”
“Oh? Not really the kind of thing for a thug, eh? Well, I have to mosey on out, ma’am. I thank you for the bonus and I’m glad to have been of service.”
The Richardson building was located near the intersection of Hughey Street and Central Avenue in beautiful downtown Orlando. The building was a bit of a throwback to Orlando’s pre-Disney days. It was an eight-floor red brick affair that looked like it belonged in a nineteenth century portrait of New York City or San Francisco maybe. It had a charming corner entrance with a stone awning, and it was home to the office of Scott Jarvis Private Investigator… and some other people.
As I crossed Hughey from the large parking lot under the raised section of I-4, I contemplated that as of the first week of that month, my humble office was now the home of no less than two licensed investigators. Lisa had qualified for hers and I wondered if I’d have to change the name on the door now. If she had her way, it’d be something like Gonzalez and What’s his Face investigations.
I entered the subdued but cheerful small lobby and was pleased to see Mrs. Alexandra Fairchild, friend, neighbor and my attorney waiting for the elevator. Alexandra was a tall brunette in her late forties who was athletic, pretty and elegant. I was pleased to see her because only a few minutes before I’d been speaking about her to Virginia Chandler and that sort of happenstance amused me.
“Well, speak of the devil,” Alexandra greeted me with a smile. “We were just talking about you.”
I took her hand and kissed it gallantly, “So were we… Virginia Chandler and me, that is. Who is your we?”
Alexandra turned to introduce me to a tall and very elegant gentleman. He was perhaps fifty-five with carefully arranged salt and pepper hair and with a handsome olive-skinned face. The man was perhaps an inch or two below my six foot two with a trim build and erect carriage that went well with his black Armani suit, snowy white shirt and matching splay handkerchief all set off by a deep burgundy colored tie with gold tie clip affixed.
“Scott, this is Mr. Alfonzo Palermo,” Alexandra stated. “Alfonzo, this is the man I was telling you about.”
Palermo held out his hand to be shaken, “Ah, the private adetective, huh? This is indeed a very great apleasure for me, signore.”
Mr. Palermo had a deep rich voice that exuded warmth and friendliness. I thought that it perfectly complimented his Italian accent. His wasn’t the New York mobster or New England Italian so common, but the melodic and almost sing-songy accent of a native Italian who may have recently immigrated from Sicily or Naples. Although he spoke very good English, it was clear that he hadn’t been in the States anywhere near long enough to lose that native quality.
“Thank you, sir. The pleasure is mine,” I said. “May I ask what secrets of mine you’ve been sharing, Alexandra?”
A musical chime announced the arrival of the elevator and we stepped in. Although the lift was not more than four years old, its track record was abysmal. Nothing dangerous, but at least once a quarter, the repairman had to be called out and those of us who did business in the building had to suffer the stairs for a few days.
“Mrs. Fairchild isa my attorney,” Palermo explained. “I owna the Palermo Funeral Parlors. Three ofa them in the area. I know, I know… it’sa strange business to mosta people… but it gives me greata joy to help people through… how do you say… through a diffiulta time ofa bereavement, huh?”
I smiled. His warmth and the soothing manner of his personality was probably just what was needed in that line, “Somebody has to do it, Mr. Palermo, and you seem to have just the right… disposition.”
He grinned, “That’sa good! Yes, I thinka so. But… we’ve had some trouble lately… and I’ma not sure whata to do about it.”
“The kind of trouble that might require you,” Alexandra pointed out. “Are you available this afternoon?”
“Certainly,” I said. “I have a pretty open schedule.”
“Excellent, can we come to your office in an hour or so?” Alexandra asked.
“By all means,” I said as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. “I look forward to it.”
“Grazie,” Palermo said, shaking my hand again and beaming. “We sit down and I tella you my troubles, huh? Then we discussa your fee. I take care of you, don’ta you worry, okay?”
I chuckled, “In my line, Mr. Palermo, it might be better if we swapped services.”
He laughed heartily, “Hey! That’sa good! One funeral ona the house, huh?”
Alexandra just shook her head as I turned to walk down the hallway.
My office was nothing flashy. Although professional and comfortable, it did teeter precariously on the edge of plainness. A speckled short-fibered brown rug filled both rooms and was mostly free of tread marks. My dark brown davenport matched the coffee and end tables. On the coffee table sat a handful o
f this month’s magazines… kept more up to date than in previous years thanks to Lisa. On the end tables sat two thin brushed enamel lamps with paper shades that cast a soft glow about the room and onto the large island mural over the sofa.
Lisa’s desk, like mine, was a simple flat-topped affair that you could find in any office superstore. Laptop, blotter and writing implements along with a goose-necked desk lamp. There was also an ornate hat and coat rack near the outer door complete with umbrella stand at its base in which sat two large golf umbrellas. If I were Philip Marlowe and it were the forties and I wore a hat, I’d probably toss it onto a hook and hang my overcoat.
Not being any of those things, I simply strolled in and smiled warmly at the one thing in my office that could indeed be considered lavish, flashy, exquisite and that truly added something special.
“What’re you smiling about?” Lisa asked as she stood up from behind her desk and walked around it to meet me.
She wore a red skirt suit with matching heels and a white shirt beneath. The suit, while professional, hugged her athletic and curvaceous figure in a way that made me stare and sent a little thrill flittering through my chest. The color set off her large sea blue eyes and the sparkling diamond studs she wore in her ears that day. Her luxuriant brown hair was tied at the nape of her neck with a silk bow the color of her blouse. She wore a chrysanthemum in her lapel buttonhole as an accent piece… just to show off.
“The most beautiful detective in the world,” I said, leaning in and kissing her gently on her full lips. “How’s your day going so far, love?”
She sighed happily and ran her fingers along my upper arms, “Much better now. How did yours go? Did you nail the bad guys?”
I chuckled and led her into my private sanctuary. The nexus of all deduction and the very heart of my investigatory operation. Like the outer office, the inner one was a bit austere. Aside from the desk were a set of three filing cabinets, only half filled with anything. Another paper shaded lamp sat on top of these which I used for lighting rather than the overheads. There was a splash of life there, though, thanks to Ferny the fern, who sat in the corner near the window attentively awaiting my return.
I went over and patted her on her… head?
“I got proof of Ted’s misdeeds and recovered the stolen documents,” I told Lisa. “Virginia gave me a thousand-dollar bonus, too.”
“Great,” Lisa enthused as she sat in one of the two client chairs. “So what’re you gonna buy me?”
“What do you want?”
“Hmm… something battery powered to amuse me when you’re not around.”
“Oh, like a flashlight… a Walkman maybe?”
She snickered, “A Walkman? What’re you like fifty? And no… I was thinking something with multiple speeds… y’know…”
“A remote-control car! Of course!”
She stuck her tongue out at me and laughed.
“You know, a guy could start to feel insecure with comments like those,” I chastised.
“Well, if you’d just start doing it right,” Lisa chided right back, “then I wouldn’t need a B.O.B. So we’re gonna keep practicing and practicing until you get it right, Mister.”
I grinned, “There are worse fates. Oh, by the way, Virginia said she might have a job for you. And on my way up here, Alexandra introduced me to another potential client.”
“Busy week.”
“It’s good to be the king.”
“And the Queen.”
“Right.”
“Cuz I’m a girl… and girls are queens.”
“Gotcha.”
3
By the time Alexandra and Palermo strolled into my outer office, Lisa was gone. Virginia Chandler had called not long after I’d shown up and asked if Lisa could come out to her office for a consultation.
I showed my two guests into my musing studio where they made themselves comfortable in my interview chairs. Palermo withdrew a gold cigarette case from his inner coat pocket along with matching Zippo and raised his eyebrows at me questioningly. I usually didn’t allow smoking in my office, as I found the acrid tang of cigarette smoke objectionable. However, it being January and your hero having two openable windows directly behind him, I relented and nodded.
Palermo lit up and I took the opportunity to retrieve, fill and light my pipe. When in Rome…
Alexandra smiled, “Welcome to 221 Baker Street.”
“Quite,” I acknowledged. “So, Signore Palermo, please feel free to tell me of your woes.”
“Well… it’s a bit strange,” He began, puffing on a brown cigarette with a gold tip. Probably Italian in origin. “As I mentioned earlier, I owna three funeral parlors. But that’sa not all… I also recently purchased a cemetery out ina Davenport. You know the area?”
I nodded and felt a tiny jolt of something. Davenport again. A little bell was tinkling in my mind. A very minor coincidence that was setting off my suspicious nature.
“Disa cemetery… isa very old,” Palermo went on. “Old for a thisa country, that is. In Italy we have them going backa to the time ofa the Romans, huh. But for a Florida, thisa one is pretty old. Officially, it wasa established ina 1892… but there is an older section with stones marked asa far back asa the Civil War.”“Interesting,” I said. “Whereabouts in Davenport?”
“It’s out ona Ronald Reagan,” Palermo replied. “Going West pasta Old Lake Wilson… almost to Intercession City.”
I nodded, “That makes sense. There’s a rail line out there. Probably laid down a hundred and fifty years ago. Back then there was probably nothing out there but orange groves and cattle farms.”
“Si, si,” He agreed. Not quite impatiently yet he was clearly anxious to work up to his point. “Okay… so over the lasta week or so, three graves have beena dug up. Done ina the middle of the night.”
“Grave robbing?” I inquired, undeniably intrigued. “Do you have security on property or cameras or anything?”
“Wea do,” he said. “Somea web cams and a security mana who says he saw nothing.”
Palermo sounded dubious about that last point. I puffed languidly and then asked: “You suspect he’s not being truthful?”
Palermo sighed and shifted in his chair, ashing his cigarette in the glass ashtray I’d provided him. “I don’ta like to accuse somebody withouta the proof, huh? But…”
“But it’s hard to imagine that this guy didn’t see anything in the time it takes to dig up a grave,” I finished for him. “Assuming hand tools, even a couple of men would be at it for what… an hour?”
“Si,” He said, taking a deep drag. “Anda this happened three times, huh? Three different night’s overa eight days. I don’t know…”
“Have you notified the Polk County Sheriff’s office?” I asked. “This is certainly a police matter, signore. Alexandra knows the specifics of the law better than I, yet I believe charges of trespassing and vandalism would apply. Perhaps the crime would even be a class-A felony.”
“True,” Alexandra added. “If it could be proved that the body was desecrated, stolen or that valuables were removed from the grave.”
“Were the graves in the old section?” I asked. “Maybe Civil War artifact hunters or something?”
Palermo frowned and lit another cigarette. He was visibly uncomfortable. I got the impression that he took his business very seriously. That assisting people through the loss of a loved one and the charge of caring for the deceased after the fact was a sacred duty for the man. He was no doubt troubled by what he saw as a failure on his part.
“I havea the list,” Palermo said, pulling a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. “And it’s strange… one ofa the desecrated graves was in the olda section… but two are fairly recent. One froma 1985 and one froma five years ago. I havea all the information you’ll need.”
“You never did say about the police,” I asked, accepting the paper.
Palermo sighed, “I haven’ta decided yet. That’sa what Alex here is helping me to d
o.”
“It’s delicate,” Alexandra said. “The truth, Scott, as you probably well know, is that it’s going to be next to impossible for the Sheriff’s department to find the perpetrators. Unless this is some ongoing thing. I think that you can probably dig up more… oh, Lord…”
Alexandra flushed at her unintentional pun. I couldn’t help but chuckle and even Palermo smiled and then laughed out loud.
“Setting up for a wit, are you?” I teased Alexandra.
“Oh, for crying out loud…” she shook her head and chuckled softly. “I’m sorry, Alfonzo… I really didn’t mean…”
He reached out and touched her hand, “It’s okay… believe me, we getta lot of that ina my business.”
Alexandra gathered herself and continued, “Ahem… I think that you’ll be able to discover the identity and the motives of these individuals more effectively, Scott. At the very least, to determine if there is a security issue and also if these incidents are likely to continue.”
“I’ll certainly try,” I said. “Yet I still feel that I should point out that I’m just a lone wolf… even if Lisa works on this one with me, it’s still two individuals against an entire police force.”
“Getting Polk County involved is inevitable,” Alexandra informed me. “Sooner or later it’ll have to be done for appearance’s sake if nothing else. Yet as the last incident took place the night before last, we have a little grace period in which you might ply your particular brand of investigation.”
“In other words,” I told Palermo. “Go in like a bull in a china shop. Ruff up the security guard and scope the scene and beat a confession out of the robbers should I locate them.”
Palermo chuckled, “Soundsa like my childhood, huh…”
“The idea then,” I continued, “Is that I do some investigating before the official law is involved and tells me to take my magnifying glass and my Deerstalker and pound them up there sideways. That’s fine, I can do a little poking around in the day or two open to me. I do charge five-hundred per day and expenses, Mr. Palermo.”
