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

by Scott Cook

  “Shit on a biscuit!” I cranked out loud. “Mine ass on a bandbox!”

  Thanks Alan Lewrie for those useful but somewhat obscure exclamations. I sat in Rick’s chair and fumed… and thought… and fumed… and pondered… but mostly fumed. The last twenty-four hours had been one long string of odd occurrences, none of them making the slightest bit of sense.

  It started even before that, with Ted Blake stealing documents from Virginia Chandler. That at least had made sense. His girlfriend wanted them to screw Virginia out of a development project and future earnings. But then what was the deal with the two junkies burying Calusa artifacts on her property? To further prove it was historical and force her to do an archeological dig?

  Okay… but one of those dudes was the one that braced Lisa at the library. At that time, the only case we were officially working on was for Mr. Palermo. So the asshole had to be talking about that aspect when he’d warned her off… yet he was one of the ones that planted the pottery a few hours later at the housing development.

  What the Christ?

  Then the security guard at the cemetery tells me that George Nolen’s coffin was empty. Then he warns me off. Lisa finds out that the woman whose grave was disturbed was Rick’s mother… and that the old civil war soldier’s grave was that of her grandfather… or Rick’s great grandfather.

  Then I get a mysterious message from Rick himself asking me to meet him down here at midnight. Only to find he’s been kidnapped. I get him out, but they get him back. Somebody also ransacked his office. There was definitely a thread in all of this, but at the moment, either because of fatigue or a lack of evidence, I couldn’t see it.

  I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. My intent was to contemplate but I guess I must have fallen asleep because the sound of Lisa’s ring tone in the quiet office jolted me upright. When I looked at my phone, I saw that only ten minutes had passed, yet it felt as if I’d been deep in lala land.

  “Hello?” I mumbled a little groggily. “What’re you doing up so late, young lady?”

  “You okay, baby? You sound a little out of it. Have a rough night?”

  I scoffed, “You have no idea. What’s up?”

  “I’ve had a rough night too… Proust is dead and… somebody tried to kill Sharon.”

  I wasn’t sleepy anymore, “What!? What happened? Is she okay? Are you okay?”

  “We’re okay… mostly. It’s a bit of a story. Are you coming back tonight… this morning, I guess?”

  I sighed, “I can. It’s pushing two, though and I’m pretty wiped. Do you guys need me?”

  “I always need you, baby,” Lisa purred. Then she sighed: “We’re okay for the rest of the night. Why don’t you get a little rest before driving back? I don’t want you falling asleep at the wheel. We can talk more after you get some shut-eye.”

  “You sure?”

  “It’s okay… I probably shouldn’t even have called. It’s handled.”“Well… I’ll be back in town by nineish or so. Are you at her place?”

  She confirmed that. I hung up and locked up the office. I couldn’t very well crash out in Rick’s chair under the circumstances. Thankfully, the Everglades City Motel did have some vacancies and I was able to crawl into a comfortable bed and plunge into a deep sleep. At least for a few hours.

  15

  Compiled from the chronicles of a true warrior princess Amazon battle goddess

  Lisa’s Journal Entry 5

  As I got off the 528 Beachline at Conway, I wondered how Scott was doing. It was close to midnight by then, and he should be meeting with Sharon’s Uncle Rick soon. I headed north on Conway hoping that Sharon would enlighten me a bit about this situation and her family history, too.

  A lot of stuff had happened that day and I felt like I was lagging way behind. In a way, that was probably dumb because I don’t think we were far enough ahead in this race to even recognize that it was a race. A lot of weird shit had happened and the questions were only growing in number or complexity.

  Sharon lived in the southeastern section of Orlando’s old downtown district. Not quite as old as Baldwin, Thornton or College Park, but the area was still rooted in the 1960’s and the smallish homes and mature trees in the area showed it. I turned left onto Curry Ford Road and went just past Bumby, about a quarter mile or so, and turned right onto Carpenter Way. Sharon’s little two-bedroom house sat on a small corner lot at Carpenter and Alexander Terrace. The house was maybe a thousand square feet and had only a covered car port rather than a garage. The front lawn was small but bordered by an almost cliché white picket fence. A lone elm tree shaded the house from the morning sun in the summer and a couple of big live oaks kept the backyard shady in the afternoons. I pulled in behind Sharon’s silver Camry and strode up the flagstone path to the front door and knocked.

  Sharon answered dressed in pink PJ’s complete with bottoms and top and holding a glass of red wine. She grinned sheepishly when I looked her up and down.

  “Hey, it’s like eleven-thirty,” She explained. “I can’t lounge in my jammies?”

  “I didn’t say anything,” I said with a grin. “I only wish I had mine.”

  Sharon stepped aside and pushed open the screen door, “There’s no way you sleep in pajamas. I can’t imagine Scott allowing that.”

  I entered the small warm living room and perched on her love seat, wriggling out of my jacket. There was a nearly full glass already waiting on the coffee table in front of me.

  “Allow?” I jeered good-naturedly. “Scott’s not the boss of me.”Sharon slid onto the couch, “Uh-huh.”

  I chuckled, “It’s not that he won’t allow me to wear them to bed… they just get in the way. And since he doesn’t wear anything, it’s just warmer to put our skins together.”

  “Gross.”

  I flipped her off, sipped my wine and we laughed.

  “So what happened out in Davenport tonight?” Sharon inquired.

  I snorted, “Which time? We were both out there twice. Scott at the cemetery, both of us at Virginia Chandler’s development and me at this Proust’s joint just now. It did not go well, if you’re wondering.”

  “I gathered from the reports I heard,” Sharon said, taking a large gulp from her glass. “Guy was shot. Have any trouble with Polk?”

  I shook my head no, “Only with one lady deputy name of Jane Chevers. Kind of a vag.”

  Sharon guffawed, “Good!”

  “Sharon…” I took in a deep breath. “I don’t want to push… normally I’d say this is none of my business… but the case Scott and I are working on does seem to involve your dad in some way. And your Uncle Rick… can you tell me what happened between you and Scott today?”

  Sharon drained her glass and refilled it from the open bottle on the table. There was another beside it that was full and breathing and yet another beside that that was open and as dry as a bone. This must be very hard for her. Sharon wasn’t usually a big drinker, especially when she was alone.

  Sharon leaned back against a pillow she had propped against the arm of the couch and stretched her legs out in front of her, letting the heel of her glass rest just over her belly. She closed her eyes and softly exhaled, “I was pretty hard on him. When he told me about dad’s grave… and about how the other two were Uncle Rick’s family… it was like somebody shoved a knife in my heart, Lisa… God, I don’t know why this is so hard… I wanted to talk to him, but as usual, I cover up deep feelings. You know that. I make jokes or crude comments or get mad… part of me wants to hide from all of this and part of me wants to talk… needs to talk.”

  “I’m more than happy to listen, Sharon, you know that,” I said. “Hell, I’d be grateful if you’d confide in me. When I left… and when I came back, do you know what scared me most? It wasn’t how Scott would react, although that was part of it… I was so worried about how you’d feel. I know how protective you are of him.”

  A ghost of a smile crossed her full lips, “If he can forgive you, so can I. It was
hard on me, too, when you left, y’know. Not just because of how much he was hurting… but it hurt me, too. I don’t have many girlfriends, Lisa. I’ve always been kind of a man’s woman, you know? A tomboy? I love that, but it’s nice to have a smart woman to be close to.”

  “Thanks.”

  “That’s why I asked you to come over. I think you can understand, at least partly, how much this whole deal is tearing me up. It’s not easy losing a dad when you’re a young girl… I don’t think girls know how much their fathers mean until they aren’t there anymore.”

  I felt a small lump in my throat. It wasn’t the same as her experience, as my dad had taken off on my mom when I was too little to really remember him. Yet the depth of her anguish touched off something in me, too.

  “You don’t think Scott would understand?” I asked.

  Sharon drew in a deep breath and then drew in a deep sip, “Christ… you’re so much like him. Your powers of intuition or empathy are almost frightening sometimes. I look into your eyes, Lisa… and it’s as if they’re like magnets, pulling on my inner thoughts and feelings.”

  “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for,” I intoned in a fantastic Ben Kenobi accent.

  She chuckled softly, “It’s not that I think he wouldn’t understand… just the opposite, actually. But see, that’s like… well, that’s kind of the problem.”

  I waited and sipped.

  She sighed, “Scott would sit there and listen and be empathetic. He’d come over and wrap me up in his arms and let me bawl like a baby into his chest if I needed to…”

  “What a prick, huh?” I joked. I was a little confused by this, but the answer suddenly bloomed before me like an exploding firecracker. I leaned in and gazed into her cornflower blue eyes. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

  Sharon opened her mouth, shut it and then opened it again. When nothing came out, she only shook her head and chuckled. She took another sip of her wine, once again draining the glass, trying to cover her reaction… yet the flush in her cheeks was a dead giveaway.

  “It’s not really a secret,” I said kindly.

  She blew out her breath and went to refill her glass, reaching out for mine, too, “It’s not that simple… I mean… I guess part of me does. I love Juan. He’s been great.”

  “But…”

  She filled both glasses nearly to the brim and laughed, “Jesus… you really are turning into a damned detective… I’ve known Scott for what… eleven years now? Yeah, I guess there is a corner of my heart that loves him. And I don’t just mean as a friend. I’m sorry… I probably shouldn’t be admitting this.”

  I grinned, “It’s hardly a secret, Sharon. How could you not love him? As you say, you guys have been close for a long time. I’ve always wondered why nothing ever happened between you two.”

  She sighed, “I think… I think we just missed our chance. Either one or the other or both of us were dating somebody… we clicked but because of our circumstances, we just fell into the friend zone.”

  “So why not confide in him?” I pushed slightly. “Not that you need to cry on a man’s shoulder. Mine is readily available if you want it. But…”

  “But just like when Sheila died and Wayne clung to Scott,” Sharon said slowly. “He’s just that kind of man… what I’m afraid of is that he’d listen and hold me and… and what if…”

  “What if your vulnerability and your relationship sort of… went up a notch or two… emotionally speaking?” I asked without rancor.

  She just shook her head, “Something like that. It’s like one of those movie scenes, right? The girl gets all weepy and the guy holds her and then the violins play… But like I said, though… we’ve been friends too long and it’s a valuable friendship to me. Hell, he was still at UCF when I transferred up from Fort Myers. I graduated a few years earlier than him. We clicked right away, but at the time, he was dating somebody and the guy I moved up with and I were having some issues… blah, blah, blah.”

  I knew that the feelings Sharon had were a match for Scott’s. We’d even talked about it a little. His heart was mine, yet there was a spot in there especially set aside for her. The funny thing is that if it were anybody else I’d ever been with, I’d be jealous. Yet somehow, with Scott… it was okay. And I mean… it’d be worse if he felt nothing for her after so long of being close friends.

  “I’d never do anything to hurt the two of you… or Juan,” Sharon said in a voice that held a slight tremor. “So… anyways… I didn’t ask you hear to cluck about boys.”

  I grinned, “You want to talk about your dad? Why this is so emotional for you?”

  “Yeah, now that I’m plenty buzzed,” Sharon joked half-heartedly. “My dad and mom split when I was twelve. I didn’t see him again until I was thirty…five years ago. He just appears one day. Out of the blue acting as if he’d never left.”

  I smiled, “And you told him to go fuck himself, I’ll bet.”

  She smirked, “At first… but he was persistent. I finally relented and started talking to him and having coffee once in a while. Honestly, at first it was only to get answers. I wanted to know why he left. I wanted to know more about my mom before…before she was murdered.”

  I rocked back and hit the back of the couch hard. It was as if I’d just grabbed a live power line. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I’m sure my chin was probably in my lap, “I… I… I didn’t know, Sharon… my God… I’m so sorry!”

  She waved it off, “It happened when I was in high school. A long story for another time.”

  “Is that why you became a cop?”

  “You mean like Scott after his girlfriend Tanya was attacked at the homecoming game? No… or at least not entirely. I’d already decided I wanted to go into law or maybe the military by sixteen… maybe her death was the catalyst… I don’t know. Anyway, I wanted my dad to fill in the gaps for me. So I put up with him… at first. But… well… he grew on me. My dad is… was… a very engaging man. Interesting, like Uncle Rick. Why not? They shared most of their lives and adventures together.”

  I sat in silence for a moment trying to absorb it all. Then I leaned forward and picked up my glass and took a bracing sip, “Then he died.”

  Sharon’s face flushed and her brows came together in anger, “Yeah… turns out old dad knew he had cancer all the time. He wanted absolution from me, I guess. Somebody to be there at the end. It was all about him, Lisa! He didn’t come back for me at all! He didn’t give a fuck about me when he fuckin’ left and he didn’t care when he came to die, the prick!”

  There was so much here that I’d never known or even suspected. Sharon was usually such a light-hearted woman. Always had a joke or a crude comment to make you smile. She had a very sensitive nature that she covered with her hard lady cop exterior, but she was always pretty upbeat in spite of everything she dealt with in her work.

  This deeply rooted anger… no, rage was more like it… and these confusing feelings about Scott and her father’s leaving and dying… and her mother being murdered! I suddenly felt way out of my depth and unsure of what to do.

  So I did the only thing I could. I set my glass back on the coffee table and went over and sat next to her and put my arms around her. Sharon leaned into me and started to cry.

  “You trying to take advantage of me?” She tried to joke.

  “Oh, God yeah,” I said, rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head. “Get you all weepy and fudge the S outta ya’.”

  She laughed briefly but started to sob and clung to me more tightly. Her body shook convulsively as a lot of stuff came pouring out.

  Sharon and I were about the same height, but she was maybe ten pounds or so heavier than me. She was just a little sturdier and her arms and legs a bit more toned. She was a strong woman and holding her close and feeling the solid and strong outer person contrast with the outpouring of pain and despair coming from within was starting to make me tear up.

  “Five years, Lisa�
��” Sharon blubbered. “I thought I’d put it behind me… but all this grave stuff just dug it all up again.”

  “Funny,” I said with a sniffle.

  She snorted, “Yeah, hilarious… are you starting to cry?”

  Tears were running down my face now and I had to clear my throat, “No.”

  “Liar,” She said and quivered with a little laughter this time. “You’re such a girl.”

  We both laughed now. It was good to hear but I felt it was only a respite. Sharon still held me and tears still soaked into my sweater.

  That’s when I saw the quick flash of light on the living room wall opposite the windows that faced the street. I don’t know why, but I was suddenly on high alert. It was certainly reasonable that a neighbor was coming home and their lights simply crossed the windows as they turned or something… but my instincts had just switched into overdrive and I’ve learned from Scott and from personal experience never to ignore them.“Sharon, where’s your gun?” I hissed, trying to crane my head around to see over my right shoulder.

  “What?”

  “Your gun,” I hissed. “I think we’ve got company.”

  “What’re you shittin’ me?” She asked. “I’m having a goddamned cry here!”

  “Well suck it up, buttercup and get down!” I rolled off the couch and dragged Sharon down between it and the coffee table just as the front window to the right of the door shattered. I couldn’t hear the weapon, but I could hear the rounds impacting the glass and the opposing wall. An automatic weapon!

  “Suppressed rounds!” Sharon mumbled and snorted, wiping her nose. “Stop trying to hump me and let’s move! My pistol is in my bedroom!”