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

by Scott Cook

  I showed him how to wrap his left hand under his right and make sure that his thumbs were parallel to each other.

  “Complicated,” he said nervously.

  “Hopefully you won’t need to fire it,” I said, “but if you do… don’t think about it. Just point and squeeze. Remember, these guys were going to kill you. Let’s move.”

  “What the hell am I doing?” I clearly heard Pak mutter over the bone-conducting microphone of his comm.

  I was asking myself the same thing. I didn’t really want to take him into this scenario… I just couldn’t figure out what else to do with him at the moment. Nothing like going into a mostly unknown situation with no intel and no plan… dragging along a partner who hardly knew which end of his gun the bullets came out of…

  Christ…

  29

  Twice the chicks, three times the excitement and 400% more awesomeness

  Lisa’s Journal Entry 9, Continued

  Now I know exactly what’s going through your mind… you’re all like, “Lisa! His name is Carver… the guy that kidnapped Rick called himself Carver… and Scotty-poo said he was kind of short and thick with a high voice!”

  Well, don’t you fear, pumpkin! I’m not one of those vapid horror movie chicks that refuse to see all the signs and then tries to run away in five-inch high risers! Oh no, your favorite lady dick… hehehe… I know that’s immature, but come on… your favorite lady dick and her potty-mouthed flunky didn’t just topple from the turnip wagon!

  We know this guy is one of the baddies… but tables, as you are no doubt aware, can be turned…

  “So you’re a friend of Uncle Ricks?” Sharon asked as we once again headed for the back of the house.

  “Yeah, he’s quite a character,” Phil Carver was saying. “Been out fishing quite a few times since I moved onto the island. Even let’s Macey here come along. Ain’t that right, little girl?”

  “Aww…” I said cheerfully as we stepped up onto and inside the screened porch. “She’s so cute…”

  “Have a seat, Mr. Carver,” Sharon said, waving him to one of the wicker rockers and taking one herself. I sat in an Adirondack chair on the opposite side of the porch. “So what is it you wanted to talk about… now that we’re away from prying ears?”

  Carver let Macey’s leash go and she wandered over to me and started to sniff. He grinned and pulled a pack of Parliament 100s from his breast pocket along with a Bic lighter, “She likes you, Lisa… do you ladies mind if I light up?”

  “They’re your lungs,” Sharon tossed off.

  Carver lit up his smoke and leaned back in the rocker, taking a long, relaxing drag as he placed the pack and lighter back into his shirt pocket, “Ahhh… nothin’ like a smoke at sunset.”

  If he had something important to say, he sure was taking his sweet-ass time about it. I figured this was either a stalling tactic or he was slowly building up to something and wickedly savoring it just as he was his cigarette. Sharon and I exchanged a look and small nods. I thought that she and I were on the same wavelength. This was the same Carver who’d helped to kidnap her uncle.

  “You said you were told to look out for us,” Sharon gently prodded. “Told by who?”

  “By Rick himself,” Carver stated. “We talked last week and he kind of… hinted around about something weird that might be going on down here. Something about the Glades and the Ten Thousand Islands and maybe some politicians or something. Said that I should keep my eyes and ears open… and that if a real pretty blonde came around the house when he wasn’t home… and if she had a real pretty friend on top of that… well, that would be you two ladies… said I should tell you what he told me. Said that if you came around then there was probably trouble and that he might need help.”

  “Really!” Sharon enthused. “That’s some fine insight… not that I’m all that surprised, though. Did he say anything else, Phil? Can I call you Phil?”

  “Sure can,” Carver said pleasantly. “Although most folks just call me Carver. Kind of my nickname these days, I guess.”

  “You the one always gets volunteered to carve the bird on Turkey Day or something?” I inquired sweetly.

  He chuckled, “Yeah that I am. Usually the one gets to filet all the fish, too. Good with a knife you might say.”

  Macey jumped up into my lap and got comfortable. I began to pet her absently and she sighed in content.

  “So was Rick specific about any of this?” Sharon asked. “Because you’re right, Carver. He’s in trouble. Been kidnapped and we haven’t a clue why or where he is or who took him.”

  Carver whistled softly, “Damn… I’m sorry to hear that. Gotta say, though, it’d take some pretty tough men to take that old boy. Even seventy years old I wouldn’t tangle with that tough old Calusa!”

  We all shared a sympathetic and friendly chuckle. Just a few good friends having ourselves a laugh on a fine winter evening.

  Yeah sure.

  “Well now, Ms. Sharon,” Carver began. “Rick told me that if he should run into trouble… that if you should show up… that I was to mention the Calusa and the Ten Thousand Islands. He said you’d know what that was all about. Said you should look into the politics… no idea what that meant.”

  “Geez…” Sharon muttered. “I wish he’d been more specific.”

  “Well, he did say something about… about the item?” Carver said in a tone that was dripping in confusion. Way overdone. “Said that if you could find the item, that it might help. It might be the one thing that saved him or that would be something you could trade the kidnappers. That make any sense at all?”

  Sharon stared at him for a long moment. I felt the tension thicken like warm air on a summer’s afternoon. Finally she shrugged, “Maybe… not entirely sure. Where’d he say this item was?”

  “Said you’d know,” Carver mused. “But he also mentioned it wasn’t anywhere obvious. He also said that if you had this thing, whatever it was, and then… and then you got the other one… you’d be able to solve the puzzle. Pretty cryptic, isn’t it? Personally, I have no clue as to what he’s talking about… but he thought it’d help if I delivered that message to you.”

  “Funny, Carver…” Sharon stated thoughtfully. She even went so far as to rub her chin. It reminded me of Scott. “That kind of does make some sense. There is a certain item that Rick has kept hidden for years now…”

  “Well, I’m glad I could help,” Carver said, flicking ash into a ceramic ashtray set on the cocktail table between the two rockers. “Anything else I can do?”

  Sharon looked over at me and I smiled, “Well, Phil… or Carver if you like… I have a couple of small questions, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Sure, sure,” he said expansively, waving his butt in the air.

  “First, just out of curiosity… how’d you know my name?” I asked and I saw Sharon’s mouth twitch.

  “Oh, Rick mentioned his niece had a friend named Lisa,” Carver said. “Said you both were pretty as a picture and he was right.”

  “That’s sweet,” Sharon beamed.

  “It sure is,” I beamed too, just to get in on the beaming. “Know what’s funny, though? How you happened along just after we got here… got here by boat, too. In fact we’d probably have missed you except for the fact that our boat’s having some trouble.”

  “Really?” Carver asked with concern. “You want me to have a look at er’? What’s the trouble you think?”

  “Electrical,” I said, enjoying this little game. “Battery cable’s been cut.”

  “Oh my lord…” Carver breathed. “Who’d do a thing like that?”

  “Good question,” Sharon said. “We were in the house for a bit and heard a boat nearby. Headed away. Thought nothing of it until we tried to start the Maverick again. Weird, huh?”

  “You think it could’ve been somebody in that boat?” Carver asked, making a show of looking around as if he’d spot the bad guys just then.

  Sharon shrugged, “Honestly, I don�
�t know… seems logical though. We were inside for about fifteen minutes looking for something, so they had plenty of time.”

  “Oh… you lookin’ for that thing Rick said you should find?” Carver asked. “Did you find it? Must be well hidden, huh?”

  “Oh, it is,” Sharon replied. “Only somebody that knows Rick really well would know the hiding spot. Hell, probably only me. The only person in the world who would.”

  “You know, I don’t think it was that boat,” I suddenly interrupted.

  “You don’t?” Carver asked.

  “Really?” Sharon asked. I couldn’t tell if she was sincere or playing along.

  “Nope,” I said, stretching. “I think somebody did it from the land. Somebody who maybe was watching the house and then waited until we went inside. Then they came around back, cut the cable and went back out front to watch again.”

  “Why would somebody do that?” Carver asked, his good humor seeming to come down a peg or two.

  “Wanted to see if Sharon found something would be my guess,” I stated. “Probably this mystery person broke in earlier and couldn’t find a damned thing. So they figure sooner or later somebody shows up. Not a bad plan, really.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not like we can prove it,” Sharon stated.

  “Probably not,” Carver agreed, his smile nearly gone and his eyes cold.

  “Oh, I think I can,” I stated “See, this mysterious person left a clue.”

  “What kind of clue?” Carver asked.

  “Footprints,” I said smugly.

  He chuckled, “There are a lot of footprints around, I’m sure. All of ours for one.”

  “Oh, not human footprints,” I said, all cheerfulness gone from my voice now. I met his gaze. “Dog footprints. Small ones. What do you think of that, Carver?”

  He shrugged elaborately, “Of course there are… Macey probably tracked dirt all over the porch… see there, there are a couple of her prints right there.”

  “True,” I said. “But the prints I’m talking about are inside the house, Carver.”

  “Dun, dun, dunnn…” Sharon intoned. “Why don’t we drop the act, Carver? Mrs. Columbo here has figured it out. We know you are the same Carver who kidnapped Uncle Rick. So why are you really here?”

  Carver stubbed out his cigarette and slowly withdrew the pack and lit another. After it was going, he rocked back and began to chuckle softly.

  “Something amusing?” Sharon asked.

  “You two girls,” he said, still chuckling. “Think you’re a couple of toughies, don’tcha? Like those chicks… Charlie’s Angels, that’s it. Think you got it all figured out, huh? Well, lemme tell ya’… you don’t know shit.”

  “Well why don’t you enlighten us, then?” I asked coldly. “If there’s anybody here who might know a lot of shit… full of it, you might even say… it’d be you.”

  Sharon’s eyes twinkled and a grin flashed across her face.

  He scoffed, “You have no idea how big this is. Who’s really pulling the strings?”

  “And you do?” Sharon asked.

  He grinned but said nothing.

  “Where’s Rick Eagle Feather?” Sharon demanded.

  “Oh, the million-dollar question,” Carver mused. “Maybe more than that… maybe the billion-dollar question. And only you have the key to it.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said.

  “What do you want?” Sharon asked tightly.

  “I want the item,” Carver said simply. “The thing you’re here to find. See, I know Eagle Feather has it… or my boss knew. And he also knew that you’d know how to find it, Nolen. You hand it over and we might consider releasing him.”

  It was Sharon’s turn to chuckle sardonically, “Well, then you’re gonna be disappointed, fuck face. Because I don’t have this mysterious item. I don’t even know what it is.”

  “Sure you do,” Carver condescended. “It’s a plaque. From his dad’s shrimp boat. Now where is it?”

  I laughed, “Same answer, dumb-ass. It’s gone.”

  Sharon looked over at me with raised eyebrows. I only shrugged, “No point in dragging it out. Yeah, she knows the hiding spot you couldn’t find, Carver. But there was no plaque. It’s gone. Somebody beat you to the punch.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Carver said. “Because that item… that plaque… is just about the only thing keeping old Rick alive. Without it, well…”

  “Who do you work for, Carver?” I asked. “Who is Gaspar?”

  Carver snorted in derision, “Who? You must know I’ve got nothing to say. Except that I have to go back and report that the one thing that makes old Uncle Rick valuable isn’t here. Tsk, tsk… what a shame. You two bitches sure you don’t know where it is?”

  “We’re sure, ass-hat,” Sharon growled.

  “What a shame…” Carver sighed dramatically. He sounded weary and regretful.

  For a man his size… that is to say his height combined with a broad build, he moved with shocking speed. His right hand came up and he lunged up and out of his rocker and toward Sharon, whatever was in his right hand glinting in the fading light.

  Fortunately, Sharon was no tortoise herself. She dived forward, hit the deck with her shoulder and tumbled out of Carver’s path. He managed to turn himself around and keep himself from toppling over just as Sharon rolled onto her knees with her pistol coming up.

  “You don’t have the—“ he never finished.

  Sharon’s gun barked twice as did mine. I’d leapt up and pulled it from my waistband. The four shots seemed to explode under the roof of the porch, echoing forever out over the mangroves. Macey had been thrown off my lap when I’d stood and she howled in fear and dove into a corner to curl into a ball and whimper.

  Carver’s body was jerked backward, four holes appearing in his chest and forcing him to collapse into what had been Sharon’s rocker. The knife he’d pulled clattered to the deck at his feet and he simply stared, open mouthed and with wide, startled eyes.

  “Who sent you!?” Sharon barked, taking a step toward him.

  “Fuck… you…” Carver croaked, his face going pale and the front of his denim work shirt turning dark reddish-brown.

  “Come on, Carver,” I said, stepping closer as well. “Don’t go out without getting some payback for the guy who sent you… tell us… and tell us where Rick is.”

  Carver tried to speak. He smiled and his teeth were bloody, “No… ungh… Len… Harney…”

  He coughed once, spattering blood on his chin and then his head lolled forward and the last of his life’s breath hissed through his pale lips. He didn’t move or breathe again.

  Sharon and I stood there for a long moment. I think we were both stunned and a little shaken by what had just happened. The world around us had barely taken notice, or it seemed so. A few birds squawked and chittered and Macey still whined, but that was it.

  “Jesus…” I muttered finally. “Do you think that he actually told us something?”

  Sharon frowned, “I don’t know… Len Harney? Or did he mean Lake Harney over by us? Or maybe the Harney River out in the Glades?”

  “Well, this sucks,” I griped.

  “Yeah, sucks the big pipe,” Sharon sighed. “Now we’re gonna have to get the cops involved. Let me see if he’s got any I.D. on him… fuckin’ prick…”

  I went over and scooped up the Spaniel and held her in my arms. She was shivering but quickly calmed down again as I held her close and cooed. I sat down in my seat again and took a quick look at her tag.

  “Hey… this tag says her name is Macey and that she lives over at two-two-four Smallwood Lane. You think Carver really lives here?”

  Sharon scoffed, “Not even a wallet on him… dickface… no, he probably stole that dog out of somebody’s yard. Ted Smallwood is kind of famous on the island for opening a general store. It’s a museum now. That road isn’t far from here… somebody’s probably missing their pup by now… nothin’… shit…”

  I set the dog down
and pulled out my iPhone. I opened the notes app and made a note of what Carver had said, just as he’d said it:

  No… Len… Harney.

  Neither Sharon nor I had any idea what that meant. But maybe Scott could take a look and he might have an idea later on. Three heads were better than two, after all.

  “Well, we’d better call Collier County,” Sharon said with a sigh. “Wish I knew somebody on the job at the Sheriff’s office here. This might be a smidge hard to explain.”

  I chuckled without humor and then remembered something, “Scott does. He said the other night he met a deputy… a Sergeant CJ Wright. Maybe ask for him? He might have some insight into this.”

  30

  Okay, so it’s like this… your witty and sensual hero is once again creeping around under the cover of darkness to confront evil doers. Yeah… for a change. Not to fall into a boring and repetitious pattern, however, this time I’m dragging a non-combatant along with me who is more likely than not to flip the fudge out and put the entire operation in jeopardy.

  But hey… as long as you’re entertained…

  No-name road very quickly became a rutted dirt track that snaked its way off the berm of I-75 and down into a mixture of saw grass, cattails and other scrub brush. At first we were out in the open, but the track quickly met up with a grove of slash pines and cabbage palms into which it twisted.

  All about us, the song of primordial night echoed. Chittering cicadas, crickets and a variety of frogs called out across the landscape. Here and there came a distant and not-so distant rumbling croak of an alligator. Whip-poor-wills sang and owls hooted, their ghostly calls floating on into infinity. More than once I swore I heard the far-off roar of a Florida panther. Out there, in that stand of trees more than two hundred yards from the highway, I could believe that Doctor John Pak and I had stepped through an invisible portal and that we’d been transported back ten thousand years or more. To a time before Man. A time when Mother Nature had no fear for her children in this part of her domains.