by Scott Cook
Even as I got to my feet, I heard an engine roar to life and two doors slam closed. I poured on the gas and rounded the back corner just in time to see the big truck move forward and round the other corner out of site. Tires screeched and voices shouted as I rounded the corner and headed along the back wall toward the side of the building where my vehicle was parked. I ejected the empty magazine and got a full one seated home and charged the weapon just as I reached the next corner.
Again, I got low and peeked around the wall. The driver and the other rifleman both held Rick between them while Carver aimed his weapon over the bed in my general direction. I leveled my pistol at him.
“Don’t be stupid, Jarvis!” The driver said even as they hustled the big man toward the far side of the truck.
With the other two men wrestling with the big Calusa, only Carver and I held a weapon. We could kill each other but the other two still had their prisoner.
“Don’t do it, asshole,” Carver warned.
“Stand down, Scott!” Rick shouted in a voice that was oddly calm and controlled. “Let them go.”
Rick was hustled into the rear seat followed by the rifleman. The driver climbed into the front passenger seat and slid over to the wheel. Carver still held his gun on me, and he was grinning wickedly.
“Let’s go, Carver!” The driver’s muffled voice floated out from the open doors on the far side of the truck.
“We can’t leave him,” Carver said harshly. “Let me take him out!”
“Not now,” The southern accented driver shouted.
“This ain’t over!” Carver promised even as he ducked down and went for the passenger door.
I just stood there. There was nothing I could do. I couldn’t shoot into the cab for fear of hitting Rick and I couldn’t just shoot out the tires. Even if I did, that wouldn’t stop them. There was also the clerk to consider.
The big truck peeled out and raced away toward the Tamiami Trail. I cursed and ran around the corner to where the clerk was still lying on the pavement.
Even in the low lighting, I knew there was nothing I could do. A large patch of blood covered the front of his shirt and his eyes were wide open and fixed. A quick check told me that his heart had already stopped.
I stood there in the rain, looking down at the innocent person who’d paid the price for someone else’s mistakes and seethed. I’d failed. I’d failed Rick and I’d failed this poor man who was just doing his job.
“God dammit…!” I again repeated myself, this time resignedly.
Out on the highway, a siren blared and lights began to flash. The sight of the police car racing into the parking lot and screeching to a halt only seemed to underscore my despair at the disaster this night had become. I wanted to get in my Jeep and race down the highway in the direction the pickup had gone but instead, I’d have to deal with the law and any chance I might have had of immediate redemption was about to slip through my fingers.
13
Lovingly compiled from the adventures of la chica bonita detectiva
Lisa’s Journal Entry 4
I really thought about running out the back door. I know that’s stupid, but at the time, with a dead body in the house and cops pulling out in front, my fight or flight instinct was screeching like a banshee.
Thankfully my higher brain prevailed. If I was worried about being found in a house with a dead man, it’d be far more suspicious to be caught running from a house with a dead man in it. I also reminded myself that I was now a licensed private investigator and was on a case. I also had friends in law enforcement who might help me out if necessary.
Still, when the first heavy knock came at the front door, I think I jumped like six feet. I bit my lip and went downstairs to let the cops in. My tummy was in knots as I turned the deadbolt and opened the front door.
Two cops stood there, a man and a woman. The man was of medium height and heavy and the woman was tall and thin. They both wore the badge of the Polk County Sheriff’s office. I’d dealt with Polk County before, but I didn’t know these two patrol deputies.
“Good evening ma’am,” the man said from under his thick dark cop stash. “I’m Deputy Collins and this is Deputy Chevers. We received a call just a few minutes ago about a possible disturbance and possible gun shot from this residence. Do you know anything about that?”
“As a matter of fact… I do,” I said, stepping back and opening the door. There had been two cars, so where were the other deputies? “Please come in, deputies. I’m Lisa Gonzalez. I’m a private investigator.”
“Can we see some I.D.?” Chevers asked after they’d stepped inside and I’d closed the door. “We’ve got two other officers checking out the exterior, just so you know. Anything you’d like to tell us up front before we find out for ourselves, Lisa?”
There was a slight edge in her tone I didn’t like. The man, Collins, seemed neutral but this Chevers chick was confrontational. It was mild for now, but I had a feeling she was just getting warmed up.
I handed over my license and gun permit. Chevers seemed to study them for a long moment before handing them to Collins. He took a quick look and then handed them back to me.
“There’s a dead man in the master bedroom,” I announced. “Name of Clinton Proust. He’s the owner or primary tenant or whatever.”
“I see,” Collins said slowly. “Anybody else here?”
“No, just him,” I replied.
“And you,” Chevers said with a frown. “You want to go upstairs and have a look, Terry? I can get Lisa’s initial statement in the meantime.”
Collins nodded and headed for the stairs. Chevers pointed at the living room and waved me toward it. I wanted to tell her to put that pointer finger someplace dark and warm but held back. This was no time to get snarky with the cops… yet.
We went and sat in the back living room area. Me on the sofa and Chevers on the love seat. She got comfy, heaved a sigh and then said: “Okay, Lisa, go ahead and lay it out for me.”
I frowned, “My partner and I are working on a case involving Mr. Proust. He works— “
“Who’s your partner and where is he or she?” Chevers interrupted.
I clenched my right fist, “His name is Scott Jarvis. He’s currently out of town and I’m— “
“Jarvis?” Chevers asked with evident disapproval. “Isn’t he the Orlando P.I. who writes books about his cases sometimes?”
“Yeah.”
She scoffed, “Yeah, we have a report from when he was supposed to be guarding that TV singer girl. Got in a tussle on I-4 and let her get snatched on the off ramp to 192 as I recall. Then something about a rich lady in Celebration…? Seems pretty sloppy to me, Lisa.”
Okay, now I was pissed. Chevers was going beyond the normal tough cop act. This bitch obviously had a stick up her ass and I wasn’t going to take it lying down, “First off, Deputy Chevers. It’s Miss Gonzalez. I don’t appreciate your informality and I don’t appreciate your disparagement of Scott. You don’t know him, nor do you know me. So let’s just stick to the facts, ma’am, as you cops are so fond of pointing out.”
“You getting an attitude with me?” Chevers almost growled and leaned forward. “You watch that. You might be in a lot of trouble here, Miss Gonzalez.”
WWJD… what would Jarvis do?
“Oh, I’d charm her into a sack garglin’, of course.”
I swear to God! Scott’s ghostly voice in my head almost made me laugh out loud. I was gonna kick his ass… then again… it was in my head. Maybe I was losing my mind? He makes me laugh even when he’s not around.
All I had to do to keep my cool was to take a look at Chevers. Her RBF was enough to kill anybody’s mirth… or even Scott’s boner… maybe.
RBF is resting bitch face, in case you weren’t sure…
“I’m not getting an attitude,” I replied starchily. “I’m returning one. You evidently have a problem, lady, but it’s not mine. And if you’d stop interrupting, you’d already have gotten my sta
tement without the damned commentary.”
She narrowed her eyes and laughed sardonically but didn’t say anything else.
I sighed, “Proust is the security guard at a local cemetery that had three graves disturbed recently. This morning, when Scott went to talk to him, Proust pulled a weapon and as much as admitted he was involved.”
“So what? You came over to settle the score?”
That did it, “Hey, fuck you! I’m done here. You want my statement, you ask your partner to get it. I’ve had it with your shitty attitude.”
Whatever Chevers might have said in reply, and based on the redness in her face was probably going to be something twatty, she was interrupted when Collins appeared from the kitchen.“Dead man took three in the chest,” he reported. “Lot of blood… Christ, what a mess. I can’t be sure, but it looks to have happened well over an hour before based on the state of the… the blood coagulation. The ME will know for sure.”
“So why’d you kill him?” Chevers asked me nastily.
I only glared.
“Take it easy, Jane,” Collins said, holding up a hand. “Let’s not jump to conclusions here.”
“She’s got a piss poor attitude,” Chevers snapped.
“Because you’re being a bitch,” I replied. “I take exception and that automatically means I’m a murderer, right? I’m done talking to her, Deputy.”
See that’s what Jarvis would do… and WWLD also.
“Oh yeah?” Chevers asked, getting to her feet. “Then how about I place you under arrest, smart girl? How’d you like that shit? I got probable cause.”
“Jane,” Collins said a little more sternly. “Innocent until proven guilty, remember?”
Chevers scoffed, “She’s found in the house with a corpse, Terry. Reason enough to treat her like a suspect. Give us your gun, Lisa.”
“Jane go outside and see how Worthy and French are doing,” Collins ordered.
“Terry— “
“I’ll handle her,” Collins said. “Go ahead. While you’re out there, call in that we’ve got a stiff. We need the ME and a detective.”
Chevers stormed out and Collins treated me to a small wry smile, “She’s dedicated.”
I snorted, “Yeah, dedicated bitch. That how you try and rattle me, Deputy? Play the old good cop, bad cop routine?”
He sighed, “No… she just gets a little intense sometimes. There are reasons, believe me… but that’s not important right now. You’re armed? May I have your weapon, please?”
I stood and held my leather jacket open, “It’s in the inner pocket of my jacket.”
He carefully reached in and withdrew the small 9mm. He ejected the magazine, racked the slide and caught the expelled round in midair. He then shoved the round back into the magazine and set everything on the coffee table. We both sat again.
“Okay, I heard you’re on a case and that Proust is a suspect,” Collins said. “I don’t need every detail. The detectives will want that anyway. How do you come inside and find him?”
“You don’t think it was me who whacked the guy out?” I asked.
He smiled, “Maybe you did, and maybe you didn’t. Based on what I saw, though, it wasn’t done in the past hour. That I’m sure of. So either you’re a complete dumb-ass who murders a man and then waits around for the Johns to show up… or you found him.”
“Wait… how long ago were you called?” I suddenly asked.
Collins actually grinned, “You caught on to that, huh? Seven minutes before we pulled up. You were here then, I assume?”
I nodded, “Been near the house for over half an hour now. Saw no one and heard nothing.”
“Terry?” A man’s voice called from the front door.
“Damn, that was fast…” Collins said, turning halfway around. “Back here, Lieutenant.”
A man dressed in jeans, a blue polo shirt and a PCSO wind breaker strolled in. He was maybe forty with an athletic build, close-cropped curly blonde hair and dark gray eyes. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way. He was maybe a hair under six feet and carried himself with authority.
“Drax?” I asked, recalling him from a previous meeting.
He stared at me for a second before recognition dawned, “Lisa Gonzalez, right? P.I. in training, as I recall… we met back in August, right? You were with Greg Foster at Cynthia Bartlett’s place in Celebration.”
“That’s me,” I said. “Fully licensed now.”
Drax took a seat next to Collins, leaving a full cushion between them, of course. Men aren’t allowed to sit next to each other on a sofa or folks will think they’re gay.
“Did we interrupt something?” Collins asked Drax with a smirk.
Drax chuckled, “Just coming back from Disney Springs with the fam. Jennifer dropped me off and went home with the kids.”
“Like a hot tater, huh?” Collins laughed. “Well, we’ve got ourselves a bit of a pickle, here.”
He went on to explain about the call and about how I was there when they arrived. Drax went up and looked at the body and then came back down to get the rest of the story.
“Okay…” he said with a sigh as he settled in and brought out a digital recorder. “Let’s move past how you did a B and E on the place and get to the reasons why.”
“I had reason to think something was odd,” I told Drax. “Like I told Deputy Collins, Proust pulled a gun on my boyfriend this morning. He implicated himself in three separate grave disturbances over at Serenity Hill.”
“So somebody shot him over that?” Drax asked. “Why do I feel like there’s something missing here, Lisa?”
I chuckled with very little humor, “Because there’s a lot missing. We’ve only been on this case a day. I was also accosted at the Orlando Public Library this morning by an unsavory character and told to lay off. We don’t know what the hell’s going on, only that for some reason, as soon as we were hired by the cemetery owner, people start showing up and making threats… one of whom is upstairs now.”
“So where’s the famous Jarvis in all of this?” Drax asked. “Why isn’t he here with you?”
“As I told Deputy Collins, he’s out of town.”
“Why?”
I frowned, “Unrelated… at least I think so.”
Chevers returned with the other two deputies I hadn’t seen yet. They were both men in their thirties. The taller and leaner of the two stepped forward.
“No signs of forced entry… other than the slider, of course. No discernable tracks except for the young lady’s here,” He reported.
“Okay, thanks Arnie,” Drax said. “You two can take off as soon as Doc Westchase and the forensics team gets here. This place looks like more than one guy lives here, can you three figure that out and then make a point of tracking them down?”
“Sure thing, L T,” Chevers said.
“I thought that too,” I stated. “That Proust must have roommates or something. Dudes for sure.”
Chevers shot me a dirty look and huffed but didn’t say anything. Drax smiled wryly and turned his gaze on me again, “What else aren’t you telling me, here, Lisa?”
“That’s all I know,” I said, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the lie.
There was a lot more that I knew, yet I wasn’t sure it was time to reveal it to the police. If I told them about Scott’s case with Virginia Chandler, and further what we’d seen and found at her property earlier that evening… if I mentioned the connection between Rick Eagle Feather and his mother’s grave along with Sharon’s father and the civil war soldier… the investigation would become very invasive and would probably push Scott and I out. I couldn’t allow that right then. I wasn’t even sure why, but I knew I couldn’t. Something or someone big had to be behind this odd series of incidents, and Scott and I were personally involved.
Drax stared at me for a long time. I got the impression that he was applying some form of lie detector on me. Staring at me to see if I’d break or get uncomfortable. I simply waited.
He
sighed softly, “Okay… for the time being, I don’t believe you’re a suspect. Not even a person of interest. Based on what you described, on Terry’s impressions on what he saw upstairs and my own, I don’t believe you killed the guy. The engine on your Mercedes is still warm, and you just couldn’t have been here… I mean… you could’ve in some twisted scenario, but my gut says no.”
“I appreciate that, Lieutenant,” I said flatly.
“But I also think you’re holding out on me,” Drax continued more sternly. “We’re gonna run a ballistics on your weapon, as you’d expect. And I think we’ll talk again soon, Lisa. And if you or your partner dig anything up… Christ, sorry… you let me know.”
“Should I assume you don’t want me to leave town?” I asked with a smile.
He chuckled, “What town? Davenport? How the hell would you get home, then? Just leave me a way to get in touch, huh?”
I didn’t have any cards on me at the moment. Drax said he’d have Collins walk me back to my car to get one. As we stood to leave, the front door burst open and a tall, somewhat thick woman strolled through it.
“What the hell did you find this time, Tony?” The woman grumped. “Don’t you know it’s pushing ten-thirty in the goddamned pm? You don’t think I got better things to do tonight?”
Drax chuckled and shook her hand. The woman was almost as tall as he was. Her short black hair was curly, and her ebony features were more toward the plain side of pretty. Handsome might be the word. She might have been forty or fifty, I couldn’t tell.
“Kat, you’re the only pathologist in the county. Who the hell else am I supposed to call?” Drax asked with a chuckle.
“I don’t mind you callin’ me,” Doctor Westchase replied, pulling a pair of gold-rimmed bifocals from her jacket pocket. “But do it when you’re ready to leave that pretty wife of yours and take up with me.”
Collins snickered. Drax only shook his head, “I don’t know that I’d survive it, Katherine my love.”
The doctor grinned, “You probably wouldn’t. So what’ve we got?”
