by Scott Cook
“Fortyish white male, multiple gunshot, probable cause of death,” Collins offered.
“Oh, you a doctor now, Terrence?” Westchase jibed. “Got your M.D. when I wasn’t lookin’? Cuz if so, then you can work the damned night shift so I can go home and relax once in a while.”
“You know what I love most about you, Kat?” Collins asked.
“My sunny disposition,” The medical examiner replied with a laugh. “Or is it that you envy that I get to cut the dead up into bite-sized chunks?”
“Jesus Christ,” Drax said with a shake of his head. “Come on, Don Rickles, I’ll show you to the main stage.”
Collins and I strode down the street toward where I parked. When we got there, I handed him a business card from my purse.
“Good luck,” I told him.
“You too. Sorry about Chevers.”
I shrugged and got into the driver’s seat, “She’s just jealous. Listen, deputy…”
“Call me Terry.”
“Okay, Terry… will you do me a favor? Let me know what you guys find out?”
He frowned for a moment and fingered his mustache. Finally he nodded, “Long as you promise to do the same. And that when you do, you fill us in on what you haven’t mentioned tonight.”
I thought briefly about pleading innocence but decided against it. We had a little tentative trust and there was no use in crushing that with a stupid lie, “Okay.”
As I drove out of the neighborhood and back onto Ronald Reagan, I thought of calling Scott. He should be getting close to Fort Myers by then. I was just reaching for the button on my steering wheel to activate the call function of my Bluetooth when it began to chirp with an incoming call.
It was Sharon.
“You got the Mona Lisa,” I said after accepting.
“Hey… what’re you and Himself up to right now?”
“Scott’s headed to meet your uncle and I’m headed home, I guess. Just had an interesting hour in Davenport.”
A long pause, “Shooting at a house out there? That was you?”
How the hell did she know that? “How the hell do you know that?”
A rather sardonic laugh, “Police scanner. Kind of my job, y’know?”
“Not in Polk County.”
She scoffed, “Sweetie-nipples, if it happens in Central Florida, its OPD’s and this bitch’s binnis. Got any plans right now?”
“No… just gonna head home and crash I guess.”
“Why don’t you stop over first and share a bottle of Pinot with me.”
“Where’s your BF?”
“At work,” Sharon said and with a half-hearted attempt at humor added: “Figured I’d see what Scott’s been raving about all this time.”
“Cute… you okay?”
She sighed, “Not really… I wouldn’t mind talking. I can’t talk to Scott… I sort of… blew up at him earlier. And maybe a woman’s perspective might help right now.”
“You know he’d still listen,” I said. “It’s about your dad, isn’t it?”
“Yeah… and I know… but I also know you’ve been without a dad for a long time, too…”
“I’d be happy to drink your wine,” I said light-heartedly. “And let you piss and moan by way of payment.”
She chuckled softly, “Bitch… thanks, Lis. See you when you get here.”
What an onion this case was turning out to be… and as things turned out, we hadn’t even gotten to the really stinky parts yet…
14
It’s amazing to me how fast the cops often show up to a crime scene. At the same time, it’s also incredibly frustrating that they don’t ever seem to show up while the damned crime is being committed. At least not that often. That night, as on so many where I’ve had dealings with the police, they arrive to find what must look like quite the picture.
Here I was, the only survivor at a remote gas station with no less than four dead bodies strewn about. There was the unfortunate clerk, the driver of the SUV, one of the riflemen and Stank. And here was good old Jarvis, looking for all the world as if he were giving Lizzy Borden a run for her money, for all love.
The Collier County cruiser parked in front of the store and two uniformed deputies got out. They took one look at me standing near the prone body of the clerk and the passenger drew his service weapon and pointed it at me.
“Show me your hands!” he said sternly but not too excitedly.
I held out my hands at about a forty-five-degree angle at my sides, “Deputies, I’m armed. The weapon is in my waistband if you’d like to retrieve it.”
The driver came over, eyeing me warily. Both men were about the same height, an inch or two under six feet. The driver was broad in the shoulders with brown hair cut into a crew and with wide features. The other one holding his pistol on me was leaner and looked younger, his wavy blonde hair framing a boyish face.
“That Pete?” The blonde deputy asked the somewhat older man who stepped around me and pulled my 1911 from the back of my jeans.
Although the rain was slowing to a sprinkle, I was soaked from head to foot. My clothes were leaden with the weight of water and caked mud. The chilly night was working its magic and rapidly seeping into my bones. I wondered if these deputies would let me change.
“Yeah,” The driver said, coming around to face me and holding my gun up into the light. “Some pretty heavy artillery here, sir. I think you’d better identify yourself and start explaining this.”
“My name’s Scott Jarvis,” I began. “I’m a private investigator from Orlando. You’re going to find that this man was not shot with a .45. Probably a .38 or 9mm from the sound of the shot I heard. And… and he’s not the only body. There are three others. Two at the back and one guy on the other side of the building. Those… are mine.”
“Jesus Christ, pal!” the blonde deputy exclaimed. “You some kind of serial killer or what?”
I looked at him dispassionately, “Yeah, that’s it. And a complete dumb-ass to boot. I whack out four dudes and just hang around for the Johns to show up. Really?”
“I’m Deputy Wright and this is Deputy Anders,” the older man declared. “Tyler, why don’t you verify Mr. Jarvis’ declaration while I get the details.”
“You okay with him alone, CJ?” Anders asked. “He’s a pretty big guy…”
“It’s okay, Ty,” Wright replied. “Go scope the scene and let me know what you find and if we need to call in backup.”
The younger deputy turned on his heel and strode off. Wright looked back at me, “Well?”
“First off, Deputy,” I replied, shivering slightly. “Can we either go inside or let me change out of these wet and dirty clothes? It’s frickin’ freezing out here.”
“Let’s go inside,” Wright replied, waving at the front door with my weapon. He then back-pedaled to his car and placed it on the driver’s seat. He drew his own weapon and held it at his side. Not threatening but obvious.
Thankfully the heat was on in the small convenience store. Also, thankfully, there was a full pot of coffee brewed at the beverage station. I made myself a cup and one for the deputy as well. We both went over and leaned on the register counter. Just like a couple of chums… not at all like one of us was found amongst a mountain of corpses.
“Got any I.D. on you?” Anders asked.
“Not on me, but in my Jeep,” I said. “Wallet’s in the console.”
Wright nodded and pulled a small walkie from his utility belt, “Ty, on your way back, stop at the Jeep and grab Mr. Jarvis’ wallet. He says he’s got a change of clothes, too. See if you can find them and bring it all in the store, huh?”
“Dammit, CJ… it’s a bloodbath out here… but okay, I’m headed around now… hey, I see something yellow out in front of these shot up vehicles… want me to retrieve?”
“My foul weather gear,” I said.
“Yeah, bring them to the Jeep with you,” Wright said and then placed the radio back in its resting place. “All right, Mr. Jarvis, let�
��s hear this story.”
I sipped my coffee and was grateful for the warmth in my belly, “I came here tonight to meet a man. When I got here, his truck and a big SUV were parked out back next to the clerk’s car. Something didn’t seem kosher so I circled around with this night vision scope. It’s got thermal capability and I could see two men sitting in the SUV and one lying in the back.”
“This man you were meeting… he have a name?”
I frowned. I still wasn’t sure why Rick had asked me to come and didn’t know if he wanted it kept quiet. However, sooner or later, the truck would be identified anyway.
“A man named Rick Eagle Feather,” I said. “He lives over in Everglades City, I think.”
Wright’s brows went up, “You know Rick?”
My own brows rose, “You know him?”
“It’s a small county,” Wright said. “I mean in terms of population density. And a character like Rick doesn’t go unnoticed. Yeah, I’ve known him practically my whole life. He’s mixed up in this. Where is he?”
I sighed, “The men outside are gang members or with a dope crew or something. I don’t know. Their leader shot the clerk. The others were taken out by me. They came here to kidnap Rick. He was the one in the SUV when I got here. I got him out and we circled around out in the scrub but more of them showed up. I lost him.”
“What did he want to see you about?”
I heaved a sigh, “I don’t know. We didn’t get that far.”
Anders stepped inside holding a bundle and set it on the counter. He handed my wallet to his partner. The younger deputy had a strange look on his face. Part confusion, part shock, I think.
“Go ahead and get out of those wet clothes,” Wright said.
The bundle held jeans, boxer briefs and a T-shirt along with a towel. I stripped out of my wet and dirty clothes down to my soaked skivvies.
“You guys gonna watch?” I asked wryly. “I mean… its cold outside.”
The two men actually snickered and turned to face away. I dropped the underwear, scoured myself dry with the towel and slipped into the dry skivvies, “Okay, peep show’s over.”
They turned back and Wright opened my wallet. I slid into the jeans and shirt and left my boots next to the pile of old clothing.
“License, gun permit and… what’s this?” Wright asked, holding the wallet out to Anders.
“Yeah… I wanted to mention that to you, CJ,” The other deputy said. “He’s a Navy Lieutenant Commander… and he’s with ICE.”
“Holy shit…” Wright breathed and looked at me. “You should’ve said you were a heavy hitter, Mr. Jarvis… or do you prefer Commander?”
“Scott is fine by me,” I said. “As you can see, however, I’m many things in addition to a private investigator. Including an active member of law enforcement. Hope that gets me some slack? Maybe takes me off the suspect list? You guys know about ICE?”
Wright handed me the wallet, “We know it’s new, but the briefing for all local law enforcement came down a few months ago. Considering the information we received, knowing the vetting process to be part of that group… yeah, I think we can assume you’re clean here.”
“Hey…” Anders said, tapping his chin. “There’s something familiar about this… ICE and Jarvis… something local, right?”
Wright nodded, “Yeah. Remember back in the summer that story about the whack job that was going around blowing up shit and setting fires? Keys, Tampa and mostly Orlando? Shade he called himself.”
Anders snapped his fingers, “Yeah, they got him not far from here… and this guy was the one that lead the investigation.”“That’s me,” I said. “Look, deputies… I appreciate what you’ve got to do here but I’ve got to move. I need to keep pursuing my case and try and figure out what the hell’s going on. Somebody took Rick Eagle Feather. I don’t know why or where… but I need to start looking.”
Wright frowned, “I understand… okay, Ty, you call in the meat wagon and let dispatch know the situation. Tell them I want an immediate BOLO for Rick and include the description of the vehicle, as well as the Commander’s physical description of the men in it. Mr. Jarvis, if you’ll give me a more complete statement for the record, I can let you take off… Do I even have a choice?”
I grinned, “You could probably hold me. I mean, there’s two of you and you have guns… but as you know, ICE has jurisdictional authority. I could make it hard on you. I won’t, though. Also… I’m not working on an ICE investigation, so…”
Wright smiled, “I appreciate that. But still… if you can give me the details, we can take it from here.”
I ran down the basic events and left Wright with a card. We promised to share information with one another when or if we had any to share.
I threw my wet clothes on top of the foulies in the storage area, pulled a fresh pair of socks from the overnight bag I kept there and got in the front seat. I used the towel to reduce the dampness inside my combat boots, although they’d stayed pretty dry. That’s the reason I’d worn them in the first place.
Newly socked and re-booted, I drove out onto the Tamiami Trail. It was after one a.m. and I was beginning to feel the activity of the day. Running around, gun battles and the constant wet and cold were accumulating into a weariness that wasn’t yet bone-deep but was certainly making a good showing.
The thought of a three-hour drive back to O-town was not a pleasant one. I also knew that it wasn’t in the cards. I had at least one stop to make before I could rest in any form.
Frustration welled up in me as I drove. What could I do in the here and now for Rick? The truck that had taken him was anywhere within fifty or sixty miles by then. I was a blind man dropped into a wilderness… could ICE and their seemingly endless resources be of any help?
Glumly I decided that they couldn’t, at least not yet. I needed more information. For the here and now, it was all on me.
“Yeah, for a change…” I grumped.
Rick Eagle Feather ran a successful eco-tour business located in downtown Everglades City. I knew that I’d have to visit his office before doing anything else. Luckily it wasn’t far, and also luckily, there was a decent motel in the city if I could get a room that late.
Everglades City is one of Florida’s lesser known but most interesting locations. Once the county seat for Collier County, the town started as a central point for the old-time Florida cow hunters, fishermen and Glades dwellers to congregate, buy and sell goods and gain access to the Gulf, the city was small and historic and a definite Florida gem.
Everglades City is located where the Barron River meets the Chokoloskee Bay. This long but narrow bay is partially separated from the Gulf of Mexico by the northern section of the Ten Thousand Islands. From Everglades City, you have access to the intracoastal, the Gulf, the Ten Thousand Islands and Big Cypress. The town is quaint and has a plethora of wild adventure options, of which Rick’s is one of the largest.
Eagle Feather Eco Adventures offers fishing, kayaking, canoeing, airboat tours, hiking and camping packages and pontoon boat tours of the Ten G’s. With Rick’s Indian heritage and his lifetime of experience in the wilds of Southwest Florida, he adds a touch of authenticity to everything he provides. It sounded like a lot of fun and as I drove slowly down Buckner Avenue, I wished it were daytime and that I could enjoy some of those options.
Southwest Florida and the Florida Keys were some of my favorite parts of the state. When you got past the garish hotels and condos of Marco Island, Bonita Beach or Boca Grande, you found yourself in a wilder and less modern world. A world of cypresses, mangrove islands and a richness of wildlife and wilderness diversity that had no equal anywhere else.
Rick’s office, or really his visitor center, was not far from the historic old Collier County courthouse and the Everglades City Motel. It was a ramshackle-looking structure. A big wooden porch with rocking chairs in front and a large deck and dock behind with a variety of watercraft. On one side of the little business were racks of kayak
s and canoes and a storage building.
I parked in the rear, or as far away from the street as I could at any rate and found a back door facing the deck. Using my handy-dandy lock picking equipment, I quickly gained entrance and slipped inside.
The interior was maybe thirteen hundred square feet in total, with most of that being a gift shop located in the front. There were shirts and hats and other assorted memorabilia as well as snacks and drinks to be purchased. Aside from this, there was a men’s and women’s bathroom, small storage room and an office. It was here that I found my first clue.
Well, not exactly. What I found was that somebody had beaten me here and had made quite a mess of the place. The office held a desk and a couple of filing cabinets. What seemed like hundreds of photos covered the walls and featured everything from wildlife stills to pictures of Rick with some notable people. When I switched on the overhead light, I saw Rick posing with no less than three dozen famous faces. These included Presidents Bush, Ronald Reagan and Barack Obama. There were famous actors from as far back as Clint Eastwood and Charlton Heston to as recent as Hugh Jackman and Owen Wilson. Not to be outdone, the ladies made their appearances too. Actresses, politicians and even singers… including, to my shock, Jillian Moore.
I’d met Jillian a year and a half earlier when I was hired as her bodyguard while she was shooting the Orlando season of her TV show Live like a Pop Star. That had quickly perverted into a case, about which I wrote the book Shadows of Limelight. Nothing about Jillian indicated that she was the outdoorsy type, yet here she was, one arm thrown around Rick’s waist while he held up a fly rod and she held up a damned fine and almost trophy-sized bonefish.
Pulling my attention from these less immediate concerns, however, I focused on the mess. Someone had yanked quite a few files out of the cabinet and then had let them spill on the hardwood floor. The desk drawers had been pulled out and overturned as well, scattering loose papers, notebooks and other as sundries under the large windows that overlooked the river.
Whoever they were, they had either found what they’d been seeking or had not and decided to leave a mess. I sifted through the debris for a few minutes but found nothing of interest. I was discouraged by the hard truth that even if I found something I probably wouldn’t know it if it jumped out and sank its teeth into my more sensitive portions. I was rooting around in the dirt and in the dark and had no idea what to even look for let alone find it.