Suffer Not Evil: A Florida Action Adventure Novel

by Scott Cook

  “Told you you were gonna find trouble,” Maglashan informed me, puffing on a cigarette of his own and looking very pleased.

  I ignored him.

  “The little bastid’ had a gun,” Sonny said, pointing to Big Top’s body where the black revolver lay only inches from his hand. It hadn’t been there when Sonny had shot him, but that small detail was left out.

  “That’s the long and short of it, Captain,” I said. The nightmare unreality of the situation still clung to me. I was numb and my thoughts seemed to be wading through a stream of molasses.

  “The captain don’t want the long and short, wiseass,” Maglashan intoned. “She wants and is gonna get the whole story.”

  Again, I pretended not to hear him.

  “Exactly. So how about you tell me just how the hell you come to be downtown on the busiest night of the fucking month and cause a huge scene,” Cutler said gruffly. “And how your client ends up in a heap in the middle of a goddamned parking lot!”

  “I wish I knew,” I said flatly.

  “I’ll bet she does too,” Cutler quipped, jerking her head over her shoulder to where the salt and pepper-haired medical examiner was squatting beside Veronica’s still form.

  Maglashan chuckled harshly but said nothing… for once.

  “Hey, fuck you, bitch!” Lisa exploded, taking a step toward Cutler. “What the hell do you know about it!? How dare you say something so fucked up!”

  “You back it down a notch, young lady,” Cutler said evenly and with a not-so-subtle hint of steel in her tone, “I may have trouble arresting him… and we’re gonna goddamned see about that… but I’ll have no problem booking you. So why don’t you stay quiet until I ask for your input.”

  “Oh, no you didn’t,” Lisa growled.

  I put out a hand and touched her shoulder, “Don’t take the bait.”

  “I’m not baiting either of you,” Cutler stated. “I’m trying to get answers. I’ve got two stiffs here, Jarvis and you and your friends are responsible for at least one of them.”

  “Let me have a few minutes alone with him, Captain,” Maglashan suggested. “I’ll get him to sing, I guren-goddamn-tee it.”

  I speared him with a glare now, “You so much as lay a finger on me, Sergeant, and I’ll rip your arm off and shove it up your ass. Then I’ll arrest you for obstructing a Federal investigation.”

  “I don’t have time for this shit, Jarvis,” Cutler barked. “I want you to shed some light on this homicide and right now.”

  “Cutler,” I said coldly. “You need to get it into your head that you’re not in charge here. I am. I outrank you, and if you don’t back down, then I’ll goddamned arrest you. Now shut your mouth.”

  I turned away from Cutler’s hard face and stepped over and squatted down beside the M.E.,“Doc? How…”

  The medical examiner was a portly man in his late forties or early fifties. He reached up and absently adjusted the thick square-framed eyeglasses he wore and sighed, “Strangulation. You can see the ligature marks on her neck there. I’ll know for certain after the autopsy, but…”

  I nodded, “I took a quick look… was she… assaulted?”

  The man scowled and nodded slowly, “There are strong indications of sexual assault. I can’t be entirely sure she isn’t menstruating… but I’m ninety percent certain. Whoever did this wanted to enjoy themselves.”

  “Yeah…” I muttered and stood slowly. I suddenly felt ancient, as if my body had aged fifty years in a matter of moments.

  “Guess you won’t be collecting a fee on this one, huh Jarvis?” Maglashan poked at me, a sneer on his thin lips.

  I stared at him. At any other time, I’d have wanted to and even might have slugged him… yet at the time, there was only a sense of vague disconnection. From off to my left, I heard Sonny mutter, “Oh, madone…”

  “Nothing to say?” Cutler put in. “The big-time, hotshot P.I. and ICE officer has no smartass come back? What’s the world coming to?”

  “Be thankful,” I said coldly and dispassionately. “That you’re a woman. Because I’d knock you right on your ass. You and your poorly-trained hound here.”

  Although I meant the words, there was little genuine rage behind them. I knew what she was doing. She was going over the top with it, but Cutler was trying to throw me off, to get me angry enough to blurt something out. I knew the tactic all too well.

  However, that wasn’t why I felt less anger than I otherwise might. It was the numbness. A cold emptiness inside me. I had blown it. I promised Veronica Bradford that I’d protect her, and I’d failed. I’d failed spectacularly.

  “Wow, you’re a real bitch, Captain,” Lisa said with barely contained rage. “And so are you, Magla-whatever.”

  “Captain…” Alex Muñoz said. “That’s a little offsides.”

  Maglashan laughed and sneered at me, “He’s just pissed off because he knows he screwed the pooch on this job. That woman is lying there dead because somewhere along the line, Jarvis fucked up. Don’t break bad with us because you’re just pissed off she paid the price for your screw up.”

  “Maglashan! Shut your mouth!” Alex said more vehemently. “Captain, that’s really not fair and just… wrong.”

  “Nothing to say?” Cutler needled me.

  I stared at her for a long, long moment. Finally, in the same detached tone, I said: “Go to the devil.”

  I turned and walked away.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Cutler called after me.

  I kept walking. I thought I heard Alex say something, but I didn’t pay any heed. I just walked.

  20

  Lisa’s journal entry 1

  “Where the hell is he!?” that bitch Captain Cutler was shouting.

  “Who?” somebody asked.

  “Jarvis, for Christ’s sake!” Cutler snapped. “He’s gone! Make sure he doesn’t leave this goddamned lot!”

  “Pagliosi! Varnsin!” Maglashan barked. “Walk the perimeter of the lot! I’ll take the north side. Find that fuckin’ prick!”

  I blinked a few times to try and stop the tears and to stem the tide of my rage. That shit she’d said to Scott was nothing short of cruel. I can’t blame him for walking away for a bit.

  The only thing that bothered me… yeah, as if it was just one thing right then,… was the weird look on his face and the blankness in his eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him quite like that before. It was like… it was like he was sleepwalking, or maybe floating in a dream-like haze. It gave me a shiver to think about it.

  “So where’d your boyfriend go?” Cutler suddenly stood before me, her cigarette framing her face in a noxious stink.

  I stared at her, “He’s… I don’t know.”

  “Well that’s just goddamned great!” she railed and stalked off.

  A few minutes went by. Sonny and I exchanged glances and even smiles. Finally, the cops reported that they hadn’t and didn’t see Scott. Cutler was fit to be tied.

  “Where is he, Lisa?” she asked me again.

  “How the hell should I know?” I asked. “I didn’t even see him leave. I can tell you, though, Captain… if you don’t see him now, you won’t. He’s gone.”

  “Son of a bitch…” she hissed. “Who does this guy think he is?”

  “He’s Lieutenant Commander Scott Jarvis, Navy SEAL and an agent of the International Counter-criminal Enforcement Agency,” I said. “He did not kill Veronica, nor did he kill that guy. This Big Top guy approached him with a gun. Scott believes that his partner, a man named Lawrence P. Otter, is the one responsible for taking Veronica. As far as we know, they’re from Miami… but that could’ve been misinformation.”

  Cutler glared at Sonny and me for a long moment and then said, very deliberately, “Leave me contact information for the both of you. Stay close in case I need you, understand? Now get out of my sight.”

  We did. We walked back to the parking garage and met Jimmy, Joe and T. We all got in our respective cars to head bac
k to Veronica’s and then… I don’t know.

  Sitting on the console was a small piece of notepaper. On it were the words I have work and I love you.

  It gave me a shiver. Both because Scott had been there just moments before and because he was telling me he wasn’t going to be around for a while. A whole bunch of scenarios were going through my mind as to what he’d do.

  Would he go hunt down Otter? Maybe the Bradfords? Would he kill them one by one?

  I couldn’t imagine that. Scott wasn’t a murderer. He wouldn’t take out a handful of people in the hopes that he gets the right one. If he did assassinate the killer and/or the person who hired the killer, it’d be a surgical strike and not a bombing run.

  But I still didn’t like the idea of him doing it. Killing did something to you. It affected your soul in a way that was hard to describe. To my knowledge, I’d only ever killed two people.

  The last was just the other night when those Cubans came for Veronica. I’d shot one with Scott’s hunting rifle.

  The first was a few months back on Rick Eagle Feather’s hideout island. I’d shot a stranger with Scott’s M4. I had to, and they were shooting at me… but it was still weird to think about.

  Well… I might have shot somebody in Nicaragua… maybe two somebody’s… but I couldn’t confirm that. I’d been shot, though. I can tell you it’s no picnic either.

  Scott has killed many more, both from long range and very much up close. He doesn’t talk about it much, but he occasionally does to me. He says it chips away at you. Each time, you lose a little piece of yourself. You can get used to it. You don’t have to be permanently scarred by it… but it always stays with you, he says.

  But what might it do to him to go off and hunt down his prey in the darkness? To intentionally go out with the premeditation to kill? Could that harm him? Could it change him?

  I wanted to cry. I knew Scott. Knew the way he was and how he felt about things. For some reason, Veronica’s sudden and violent death really hit him hard. He’d made a promise and he hadn’t kept it. I saw all of that written on his face before he vanished.

  Of course, he wasn’t the only one to feel guilty. I’d been there, too. Me and our four guys from New York… we’d let her slip away. I don’t think anybody was to blame, though.

  Veronica made her choice. She deliberately slipped past all of us for some damned reason. But why? Where had she gone and how had her killers found her?

  I arrived at Veronica’s house about the same time as the four men. I was glad about that for a couple of reasons. I didn’t want to go in there alone in case somebody was waiting… and because the place felt like… haunted now. We went in and packed up our gear. I had no desire to stay there, either. Something about being alone in a dead woman’s house…

  “So now what?” Joey Knuckles asked.

  I scoffed, “Hell if I know… I guess we’re done here, though. Nobody to guard. Maybe you guys ought to head back up north.”

  “You don’t want us to look out fuh you?” Sonny asked.

  I sighed, “I’m not in danger, as far as I know. I think I’ll go over to the boat and stay there. Way more defensible. Maybe Scott will get in touch.”

  “We can come too,” T offered.

  “Thanks,” I said, “but I’ll be okay.”

  They pulled out and I followed. As we drove up the street, a Saint Pete patrol car and private vehicle passed. Probably going to secure and inspect Veronica’s house. I shivered.

  My Bluetooth rang with an unknown number as I was going over the new Tierra Verde Bridge. I answered with a little thrill in my chest, hoping it was Scott. It was Gregorio Santino instead.

  “Good evening Lisa,” he said in his deep voice. “I just heard from Joe. Are you all right?”

  “Hi Gregorio… yes, I’m fine. It’s Scott I’m worried about.”

  “I’m sorry how it worked out. I can’t believe my men lost her like that.”

  “I don’t think it’s anybody’s fault, Gregorio. Veronica took off. I don’t know why, though. I think Scott might have a clue, or maybe he’s gonna find out…”

  “Don’t worry about him, Lisa,” Santino said kindly. “As I’ve said before, there’s nobody I know better at handling himself. He’ll be all right. I am a bit worried for you, though. I would’ve been happy to keep my men with you. Now you’re alone.”

  “I don’t think it’s an issue anymore. Veronica is dead, and that’s what the mystery man or woman wanted. The case is over, frankly.”

  A pause, “You think it was Cardoza?”

  I almost wanted to say yes. There was an edge in his tone when he asked the question. An edge that made me think that if I said yes, then the four men would be diverted to Ybor City for a little cleanup work. The world, in general, would be better off without Lou Cardoza… but it was still wrong.

  Sometimes it sucks being the good guys.

  “No… I don’t,” I finally answered. “We spoke with him earlier. He sent the two men to Scott’s boat and the three men to Veronica’s… but not this. There’s a lot of people involved in this case and some odd connections, too.”

  “Okay… you let me know if you need anything,” Santino implored. “I can get in touch with some friends. I’ll even come down myself. Hell, Angela would love to visit.”

  I smiled in spite of everything, “Thanks, Gregorio. But I’m okay for the moment.”

  Harborage Marina’s main entrance faces Third Street at about Eleventh Avenue. This gives access to a pretty decent-sized parking lot, main office building and the pool. There’s another entrance on the southeast side at the corner of First Street and Thirteenth Avenue, too. This one is actually closer to Surprise because she’s on the outside tier of docks. I like the main area, though, because the parking is a little more protected and watched by security cameras. That section of town isn’t exactly the best, and a new Mercedes GLC SUV might be a tempting target in the less-observed southeast entrance area.

  I parked and keyed into the gate that led to J-dock. This dock, bordered on one side by a narrow strip of water and some mangroves, connected the front of the marina with the back. There were boats on one side only, and the walk was about a thousand feet to the big, raised walkway on the breakwater. This walkway had curved lamps all along it, giving the area good lighting and a feeling of safety, especially since you had to have a key to get in any of the high and heavy security gates.

  I went down the ramp at H-dock and passed by a couple of liveaboards chatting and having a few beers. I said hello to Gary, a fifty-ish man about Scott’s height who lived on an older Tartan 41. I continued down to the T-head where the big schooner was tied up.

  Surprise was, except for the superyacht docks on the north side of the marina, the largest boat in the wet slip area. Her masts towered high into the air, her big bowsprit jutted proudly forward, and her railings were over my head. She was big, strong and reliable and reminded me of Scott. Everything about the boat reminded me of him, and it gave me a strange sense of comfort to be there right then.

  I activated an app on my phone and inspected the security cameras and information the security system showed. Nobody seemed to be on board. No movement, no heat signature and nothing on camera. I went up the stairs and onto the big wide deck. The boat didn’t move a millimeter. She was so big and heavy that a single person climbing aboard didn’t even affect her.

  I went below into the cool and quiet of the main saloon. The air conditioning hissed softly, and a faint smell of wood, coffee and air freshener gave the cabin a very homey feel. I felt safe there, comfortable and protected.

  “I wish you were here, too, baby…” I whispered into the darkness before turning on the lights.

  I went aft and set my shoulder bag on the large bed and went back into the saloon again. On the dining table, I opened a small leather valise I carried and set out some printouts from both the Hillsboro and Pinellas County courthouses. There was some connection here, and since it was only about ten
-thirty and I was hardly sleepy, I figured I’d spend my time wisely and try and find it.

  There was something about Doc Campbell and Veronica. Something that she knew but had never talked about. Something that, when I mentioned what I’d learned that day to her, had pushed her into doing something unwise… and led to her death.

  I cringed at the stab of guilt that seemed to jab me in the belly. Was it my fault? If I’d kept my stupid mouth shut, would she have stayed safe?

  My phone dinged with an incoming text. Again, it was from an unknown number. I opened it and saw that it was an image that somebody had taken of a hand-written poem. There was some text, too.

  This may be a clue, the sender had written. Don’t blame yourself.

  Not for the first time that night, I felt a shiver creep up my spine. That message could only have come from Scott.

  For shits and giggles, I activated the Friend Finder app… nothing. I tried several of the ICE apps Scott had installed… still nothing. Somehow, he had blocked his phone but could still use it. At least I knew he was out there, somewhere.

  I read the poem. It was kind of sad. Although about a rose, I knew it was written by a woman who’d lost her baby. Scott had mentioned this to me and mentioned how he’d found it in Veronica’s house in Wyoming.

  “But she’d never had kids…” I said to myself.

  I started going through the papers again. They revolved around Doctor Campbell’s career. Some were about the cases Ted Whittaker had defended, and some were simply records of babies lost in the delivery room or shortly after.

  And there was a connection. Campbell had delivered Lou Cardoza’s first and second sons. On the same day as the first birth, Campbell had lost a child. He’d also delivered Sarah Beth Bradford at Tampa General a few years earlier. Clearly the Bradfords, at least the now dead Julius and his dead wife, had known Campbell. Clearly Cardoza had as well. Clearly Ted Whittaker had too.

  “And now Ted and the Bradfords are all dead,” I said out loud. “Something isn’t right here, man… but what the hell is it? And how does Veronica fit into all of this?”