What Lies Beneath: A Florida Action Adventure Novel (Scott Jarvis Private Investigator Book 10)

by Scott Cook

  She drew in a centering breath but still clung to me, “Scott… John Nelson… John Nelson is my dad.”

  It was as if I’d been kicked in the gut by a mule. I stared down at her and became aware that my mouth was hanging open, “Wha… huh?”

  “He was buried out there under a false name,” Sharon said, swallowing hard to try and hold back more tears. “It’s a long story… but those mother fuckers dug up my dad’s grave, Scott!”

  “What the Christ…?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it now,” Sharon said, shaking her head and pushing me away. Well, Sharon is about Lisa’s size and I am probably twice her mass, so she pushed herself away. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Just leave it alone.”

  “I didn’t bring it up,” I reminded her. “Won’t push, though…”

  “Just find out who did it!” Sharon’s sadness now turned to anger. “Just find out what scum sucking cocksmokes desecrated my dad’s grave. You hear me. You fuckin’ find out and then I’m gonna stuff their weasely asses in the ground!”

  “We can let it drop for now, Sharon,” I said softly but firmly. “Yet this isn’t just going to go away. I think at some point you and I are going to have to sit down and have a talk.”

  “You should talk to Uncle Rick instead,” Sharon said with a hint of bitterness. “He knows more about dad than I do. I hardly even knew him except for the last year of his life. Between then and the time I was twelve, he was little more than a card at Christmas or my birthday… and not even consistent with that.”

  “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I’ll find out what’s going on and make sure your father’s grave isn’t disturbed again.”

  “My father…” Sharon scoffed. “My father! All George Nolen ever did for me was give me his name and then abandon me! Then I finally decide to trust him again and what’s he do? He up and dies on me! Well to hell with him!”

  With each word of her vitriol, Sharon’s voice grew louder and shriller until she all but screamed the last sentence. She flung herself onto the couch and curled up into a little ball, burying her face in the arms she crossed on the arm of the sofa to hide her sobs.

  It wasn’t the righteous anger of a strong young woman in pain but the desperate despair of a little girl with an open wound that could never be salved.

  I laid a hand on her back, “Take all the time you need. I’ll send Juan in in a bit to check on you. And we’ll save you some supper, too.”

  I left Sharon alone to have her cry out. Although Sharon covered her sensitive side with a tough lady cop exterior, complete with potty mouth, she was actually a caring and intelligent woman who was very driven to serve. It hurt my heart to see her so openly suffering such an obvious and long-held emotional scar.

  Juan’s eyes held a question in them as I sat back down in front of my plate, “She needs a minute, hombre. Give her five and then go and sit with her.”

  “You look a little pale,” Wayne said. “Even for a blue-eyed devil.”

  Keisha slapped his arm but I smiled at her. Wayne reached out and gave my hand a squeeze. “It’s okay, Keisha. We expect little of Wayne and are rarely disappointed… seriously, though… it’s a pretty big thing for her.”

  “What’s wrong?” Lisa asked.

  “I won’t say unless she does first,” I said. “Not my place… but a family issue, let’s say.”

  After I nuked my plate just to add a bit more warmth, we began to eat and chat amiably again. Juan excused himself and went to sit with Sharon for a while.

  “I’m sorry about this,” I told the others. “I guess I should’ve kept my mouth shut about the case. I didn’t realize… well, anyway…”

  Keisha shrugged, “Life happens. On the bright side, though, you’re an excellent cook. Maybe you should change your name.”

  “To Excellent Jarvis?” I asked with a grin. “Nah… sounds cheesy.”

  Keisha chuckled, “No, Scott Cook. Kinda fits.”

  I scoffed, “What? What kinda dork name is that? I wouldn’t change my name to Scott Cook even if it guaranteed that I’d become a world-renowned and handsome novelist chef.”

  “You already are a handsome novelist chef,” Lisa pointed out with a giggle.

  “Exactly!” I replied imperiously. “So why ruin it by altering my awesome name to something dull like Scott Cook!”

  After a while, Sharon and Juan joined us. Although she’d washed her face and had composed herself, Sharon wasn’t the same. A pall of sadness hung over the table while we finished eating. As soon as she’d eaten her second helping, though, she and Juan stood to go.

  Sharon kissed me on the cheek, “Sorry, Scott. Sorry everyone… but I’m just not good company right now. Juan and I are gonna take off.”

  “I see,” I joked. “Only after you scarf down two helpings, though, right? That’s cool… I don’t mind slaving over a hot stove all day and then cleaning up your mess. It’s my pleasure.”

  A ghost of a smile flittered across her pretty face, “Hey, I’m upset… not stupid. And you’re a prick.”

  “What’s your point?” I asked.

  Sharon only shook her head and they went out. The four of us cleaned up, sat on the porch and drank Irish coffees and chatted. Mostly getting to hear about Keisha’s life story. At one point, I went inside to make more drinks and she came in to help carry them out.

  “Wayne seems happy with you,” I told her as I poured coffee into the four mugs.

  “Naturally,” she grinned.

  I chuckled, “I think you’re good for him. Do you know… about what happened in August?”

  She nodded, “Yeah. He doesn’t talk about it much, but he did last week. It’s only been a couple of weeks with us, but still… I know she meant a lot to him.”

  “To all of us,” I said, topping the drinks off with Bailey’s. “And we’re glad that you’re with him and us now, too.”

  Lisa collapsed on top of me, her long brown hair spilling over my chest as her breath heaved against my neck. She kissed my neck and then my lips between gasps as I ran my hands along the well-defined muscles of her back. In a moment or two, both of our heart rates and breathing settled down and we settled into a comfortable snuggle.

  “Wow…” She said.

  “Agreed,” I replied. “Always as wonderful as the first time.”

  She made an indistinct happy noise and sighed, “So you gonna tell me what’s up with Sharon or what?”

  “Oh, was that meant to soften me up?”

  She giggled, “Well… you are getting soft now, aren’t you?”

  I drew in a breath, “It’s her dad. I don’t know the details… never really have… but one of those graves that was disturbed was his. He died five years ago of cancer. He wasn’t in Sharon’s life for almost twenty years and she was just getting to know him again when he died.”

  “Shit…” She breathed. “You think all this has something to do with her father?”

  “No idea,” I admitted. “But it’s certainly strange… this cemetery business and Virginia’s land… I dunno. It might take the combined efforts of Gonzalez and what’s his face to figure it out.”

  Lisa chuckled, “What do you know about Sharon’s dad anyway?”

  “Not much, honestly,” I said. “I know that in the late sixties and seventies, he and a man named Rick Eagle Feather ran around together in Central and Southwest Florida. There are rumors that their fathers were bootleggers or cow hunters or fishing guides or even dope runners back before World War 2… all of those things maybe. And that George and Rick sort of continued the tradition until the eighties when they’d settled down. Or at least George did. A real old-Florida family history with those two I guess.”

  Lisa was listening raptly, “I didn’t even know her father’s name before today, let alone that she had an uncle who’s Native American.”

  “I don’t think Rick is an actual uncle,” I stated. “Just a close friend of the family… I’ve never met him, but I think I�
��ve had contact with him.”

  “Really?”

  “Remember how I found out that Shade didn’t survive falling out of that plane…? Or not for long, at any rate?”

  “Yeah… that package with his class ring and the gator tooth?” Lisa queried and then I felt her shudder. “Jesus… eaten by a gator… you think this Eagle Feather guy sent you that stuff?”

  “Likely,” I said. “He operates an eco-tourism business out of Everglades City.”

  “Well, I’ll be dipped… you think Sharon will be okay?”

  I sighed, “I hope so. I had no idea this was so emotional for her. You should’ve seen her in the bedroom… she practically broke down. Like a little girl. It was… unsettling.”

  “I’ll do my best to make it right, though.”

  “You will, huh?”

  “You can help.”

  “How generous.”

  “I’m known for my magnanimity… that’s why I charitably permitted sex just now.”

  “Well I appreciate the slack you’re cuttin’ me… jerk.”

  She giggled.

  Drawn from the case files of the world’s most luscious detective

  Lisa’s Journal Entry 1

  Yup, I guess this is gonna be a thing now! I, the lovely and talented Lisa G., am going to spread open Scott’s story and shove myself deep inside! Hee-hee-hee…

  Okay, that’s kind of crude, sorry… ish.

  I awoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and Rocky’s face like two inches from mine. I was lying close to the edge of the bed and when I opened my eyes, his cute wittle face was right there. When I laughed, he snuffled and licked me.

  “Didn’t Scott take you outside yet, Rocko?” I inquired.

  “Of course he did,” Scott said as he strolled into the room carrying a mug. “I ain’t no savage. He just wanted to say good morning to his mommy.”

  Morgan was following and he came over and pressed up against Rocky to push his face at me too. Although both boys were about the same size, Morgan was taller, and he actually put the side of his face against mine and sighed.

  “Awww…” I said, scratching both dogs and sitting up to accept the mug Scott handed me. “Thanks, baby. It’s nice to have coffee brought in… but I wish you were next to me when I woke up.”

  “I would be, if you’d get up at a decent hour once in a while,” Scott said, sitting on the edge of the bed and petting me. “Half the day’s gone already.”

  “It’s only eight fifteen,” I protested.

  “Pssh! I’ve already let the boys out, fed them, cleaned the house, mowed the lawn and built a shed.”

  “Uh-huh,” I mocked. “What’s the temperature today?”

  “It’s dipped a bit,” Scott replied. “Hovering around sixty right now and supposed to get colder tonight. Winds sou, soueast about fifteen knots, tides on the flood and we’re running under courses and single reefed tops’ls.”

  “Argh.”

  “Argh indeed, Mr. Gonzalez,” Scott replied. “Now, if you’re finished coveting your hammock there’s much work to be done. There’s not a moment to be lost!”

  “Oh, your soul to the devil Jack Aubrey,” I grumbled in a pretty good authentic Stephen Maturin Irish accent

  “Well, old Stephen,” Scott replied in a great Jack Aubrey. “Groan you may but go you must… after all, you’ve chosen your cake and must now lie in it.”

  I laughed, “You mean I can’t have my bed and eat it too?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re nuttier than a pecan pie?” I asked.

  Scott looked horrified, “My God! What a thing to ask… and in daylight no less!”

  It was a little chilly out on the porch, but with my long fluffy robe that Scott bought me and a hot cup of coffee, it was pleasant to curl up on one of the wicker loungers and enjoy the bright and sunny morning. Scott sat next to me with his handy little pocket notebook on his lap.

  “So what’s our first step in catching the bad guys?” I asked.

  “You tell me,” Scott returned. “You’re the one with a shiny new private investigator’s license hanging on the office wall.”

  I thought about that for a moment, “Well, should we proceed on the assumption that Virginia’s situation is linked to Mr. Palermo’s?”

  He nodded, “I think so. Those two occurrences, taking place at the same time and in close physical proximity seem just a smidge too coincidental.”

  “So there’s something on her land and something in those three graves that’s potentially valuable to someone.”

  “Maybe even more graves,” Scott pointed out. “The robbers may not be done.”

  “Well,” I continued. “Then we need to read over Virginia’s survey and get a better idea of what was found and where. We also need to get burial records for the three graves and find out what, if anything, was buried with those people… with Sharon’s dad… damn.”

  Scott sighed, “Yeah, huh? That’s a puzzler in and of itself. I doubt we’re going to find out much about Ezekiel Tobias… although searching Orange County records might avail us. However, the other two are recent. I suspect a connection between the two recently deceased… and maybe to Tobias, too.”

  “What I’d like to know,” I said, draining my cup. “Is how this security dude failed to notice no less than three graves being dug up on three different nights… Who do I gotta boff around here to get a refill?”

  Scott leered, “You offerin’?”

  I scoffed, “For a cup of coffee? Gonna take more than fifty cents worth of joe fore you can taste my forbidden fruit, honey.”

  He chuckled, “Then get your own.”

  “Oh, okay, I’ll polish the bishop if I must,” I sighed wearily.

  Scott guffawed, took my cup and shook his head as he got up, “Jesus…”

  “Didn’t you say that Mr. Palermo said that one or two of his security cams is broken?” I asked once Scott had returned with freshened mugs.

  “Yeah… and I’ll bet dollars to navy beans they’re in the general vicinity of the disturbed plots. We need to go at that security guard.”

  “Will you bet dollars to navy beans he’s involved?”

  “Oh God yeah,” Scott replied and stuck his tongue out at me.

  “Which one of us should interview him?”

  Scott thought about that for a minute, “Well, I might be able to intimidate him, if the need arises… on the other hand, you might be able to charm him. We also need to visit the courthouse. I doubt burial records going back to the Civil War are online… if they exist at all. And we need to stake out the two properties. It’s a proven fact that when financial gain or personal risk is present, the unsavory element often returns to or arrives at the scene of a crime. Criminal interest has already been shown for these two properties and I believe that we will encounter said element are we there to receive them. As you know… I’ve written a monograph on the subject.”

  I giggled, “I agree, Holmes… and you have not.”

  Scott sniffed disdainfully, “Well, I should. I suspect nobody will do anything rash at either place in the daytime, but tonight at the earliest, we must stake them out. Maybe we should’ve last night… oh well. So I figure you take the courthouse and I’ll tackle this security guard as well as any records at the cemetery I should review.”

  “Boring.”

  “Yup… welcome to the exciting world of investigationing. Extended periods of ho-hummery occasionally broken by short instances of balloon knot puckering terror and tingling excitement.”

  “There’s one more element we haven’t discussed,” I reminded him, not totally succeeding at trying not to laugh.

  He sighed, “Yeah… Sharon. That’s one link to this case that we can’t overlook. I just wonder if she’s open to talk about him… or if she even knows anything pertinent. If not… if not, I’d rather not tear open that wound any more for her.”

  “But what if you have to?” I asked.


  He frowned and then shrugged, “Then I’ll have you lace into her.”

  “Nice… so she can rip me a new one instead of you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wuss.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you’re being a pu-swa.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “How about if I kick your ass for ya’?” I asked.

  “Interesting… what would you wear?” Scott teased. He sipped his coffee and then sighed, “Let’s see how it goes. I’ll try and talk to Sharon again when and if we find out something useful.”

  “Guess that means it’s time to get ready for work,” I grumbled.

  “Yup…” Scott replied, “And I strongly suggest that you go armed for the time being. Keep your Glock in your purse or in a jacket pocket if you wear one.”

  I was surprised at that, “You think we’ll need a gun?”

  He shrugged, “One never knows… but I’ve already had a gat pulled on me in the last twenty-four hours… so better safe than sorry.”

  I began my part of the investigation at the office. I figured that I’d work from the most efficient to the least efficient research methods. That meant that I started by visiting the clerk of court online site and then the Orange County property appraiser’s site as well.

  I didn’t get much information, although when I searched for John Nelson I got plenty of information, just not on Sharon’s dad. Strangely, when I searched under George Nolen, I got a big fat nada. I thought that was really strange.

  As for the cemetery, nothing particularly intriguing jumped out at me. Mr. Alfonzo Palermo’s company had purchased the property back in 2009. The previous owner was a land trust that was started in 1964. Before that, the property was owned by a private family known as the Ashford’s. They officially established the site in 1919 after the close of World War 1. No other records existed before that time.

  Next, I actually went over to the courthouse and dug around in the public records office for about an hour. Nothing more on any of the names… at least not at first.