by Scott Cook
I may also have included contact information for Andrea Wellesley… just in case.
Among the many boats at the sandbar party, mostly power, were a couple of sailboats. That included my Slip’N’Out as well as a slightly smaller boat belonging to a friend called Barefoot Wanderer, an S2 thirty-foot center cockpit.
Her owner, a rather flamboyant older man named Bob, and I had met through a sailing meetup group hosted in the Tampa Bay region. Bob was in his mid-sixties, about six feet tall and a dozen or so pounds over my two-eighteen. Although he could be wildly inappropriate at times, Bob was a good-natured guy who was a lot of fun to be around and talk to.
The best way to describe him was what a couple of his long-term friends said. That was that Bob was the oldest beach bum in town. For a guy his age, he was active, surfing, sailing, skateboarding and generally living it up whenever possible.
On this gloriously sunny afternoon, our two boats were rafted up together a bit outside of the stink potter perimeter. We’d taken my dink inside the boats and walked around for several hours, chatting with folks and of course, checking out the wide variety of bikini clad ladies hanging about.
Bob had brought several people with him, including his youngest son Trevor, who was twenty-three and an accomplished sailor in his own right. There was a very attractive single mom in her early fifties named Deb, who was one of those pretty women who would probably never look her age. There was a guy named Matt, who apparently shared ownership of the boat with Bob. Colten, Matt’s seventeen-year-old son had come along as well.
I brought Wayne, Sharon and Morgan, of course. Figured I owed him for the fact that I hadn’t taken him to Costa Rica. Marcus Peters was with us too. He loved sailing, even after that first crazy night off the coast of Anna Maria the previous fall.
“So who’s gonna make me a drink?” Bob asked the group of us as we stood around my dinghy. Morgan, who was lying on the wooden floor of the dink thumped his tail but did not deign to prepare Bob’s libation.
“Oh, what, we’re your slaves now?” I asked with a grin.
“Hey, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even know about this event… so the way I figure it, that’s worth at least a whole bottle of tequila!” Bob said in his loud clear voice and then laughed in that big ebullient way he had. You couldn’t help but join in.
“Fine, Bob…” Deb said in mock frustration. “I know… I’m the Boat Bitch.”
Sharon guffawed.
“Yeah, that’s his invention,” I explained. “The boat bitch has to make drinks for the captain.”
“How flattering,” Sharon quipped. “And if you look at my tits one more time, Burnett…”
Bob looked scandalized, “What?” Hey, if you didn’t want me to look at em’, you wouldn’t have worn that skimpy bikini… and they wouldn’t be so big, would they?”
Wayne laughed, “He’s got you there, L T.”
“Suck it Wayne,” Sharon said.
Then she stepped up to Bob, grabbed him by the front of his Hawaiian shirt and yanked his head down until his nose rested in her ample cleavage, “That close enough for ya’?”
Everybody lost it. Strangely, Bob didn’t seem to mind the rough treatment.
Luckily for Bob, and the rest of us too, I had the forethought to bring a well-stocked cooler in the dink. I boosted Deb up into the boat and she began mixing what Bob and I called Mexican Jack asses. Basically a Moscow Mule but with Tequila.
“Did you bring enough for everyone?” Trev asked and laughed. He laughed as much as his dad did.
“Of course, dude,” I said. “I mean… figured it’s the least I can do, what with your dad allowing me to boat in his town and shit.”
“Here you go, sweetie,” Deb said to Marcus, handing him a Coke before anyone.
“You having a good time, buddy?” Matt asked as he and Colt sloshed up.
“Yeah, this is great,” Marcus said. “Its super packed out here.”
“Everybody’s making up for lost time,” Colt put in. He turned his head and not so subtly watched two college age girls in bikinis wade past us.
I nudged him, “Go invite them over for a drink, Colt.”
Colt reddened, “uhm…”
Matt grinned broadly at Sharon, “He’s got enough eye candy to look at right here.”
“You bet your ass, fire-boy,” Sharon quipped.
Matt chuckled and then his eyes went wide, “Whoa… you might have some competition, Sharon… damn…”
I shook my head, “You’re a married man, Matt. You should be ashamed.”
I know,” Matt said. “I really should… but I’m not. Take a gander, Scott m’lad.”
I laughed and turned to where Matt was looking. A rather deliciously shaped woman was making a bee-line for us. Her olive skin was well tanned and the white bikini she wore accentuated her sinewy grace and luscious curves. I think I stared for a few seconds before my brain fired off the recognition circuits.
I knew the woman… her toned arms and legs… her tiny waist and rounded hips… her full breasts… and her lovely exotic Latin face framed by flowing brown hair…
“Well fuck me sideways!” Sharon exclaimed and then at least had the good graces to cast a chagrined glance in Marcus’ direction. He was laughing his ass off.
“Lisa…” I breathed, feeling almost dizzy and disoriented.
“That’s Lisa!” Bob, Trevor, Matt and even Deb said almost as one. I’d met them after Lisa had moved to Missouri last year and they’d all read at least a few of my books.
“Holy cow…” Colt muttered.
“You said a mouthful, buddy,” Matt whispered and nudged me.
“Hey sailor,” Lisa said to me as she walked up to a totally silent and gawking group.
“Uhm…” I muttered brilliantly.
“Surprised?” She asked with a twinkle in her eye.
Sharon scoffed, “Not at all, why would he be?”
“What the hell, girl?” Wayne asked with a grin. “Did you swim out here all the way from the Mississippi or what?”
“I know a few people who live out here from when I was at UCF,” Lisa stated. Then she smiled at me. “Gonna say anything?”
“What… how… why…” I stumbled. In order to try and recover my wits, I reached out and touched the small scar above her left breast. The only telltale of her bullet wound.
She looked down and took my hand, “hardly notice. I thought of getting the scar removed… but it’s kind of a badge of honor. Like all of yours.”
I chuckled, “Yeah, my busted up body… What’re you doing here?”
“Enjoying the concert,” she said with a crooked smile. “Checking up on ya’. Surprised you don’t have a date.”
“We’ve been trying to find him one,” Wayne said, “but he’s acting all shy and shit.”
Deb laughed, “Yeah, like he would have any trouble.”
Bob laughed, “Yeah, me and Scotty here, couple of studs.”
Deb and Trevor laughed. Deb reached out and handed Bob a drink and patted him on the arm, “You keep dreaming, Bob.”
“What?” He objected, standing next to me. “We’re like twins!”
“Yup, like Arnold and Danny DeVito,” Matt needled.
I introduced Lisa and everyone welcomed her. Deb was kind enough to make a round for everyone. The next band was just getting set up on the stage a hundred yards or so away.
“Let’s go check them out,” Bob suggested.
“Yeah, let’s…” Sharon said. “Give these two kids a chance to chat.”
I met her eye and she smiled and winked at me. After my crew had walked a few paces away, I turned back to Lisa.
“You here on vacation or something?” I asked guardedly.
“I quit EcoLife,” She stated. “Got my P.I.’s license, too.”
“So this is a little down time between… jobs?”
“Actually, I’m in the market for a gig,” She said breezily.
“Well… St. Louis
is a big city. Probably plenty of need for a new private eye with a master’s in business.”
She looked into my eyes, “I don’t live in Missouri anymore, Scott. I’m staying with my friends here in Saint Pete.”
“Huh?” I asked in confusion.
She reached out and took my hands, “Baby… I figured out what I needed to figure out. And partly, it was you that helped me decide.”
I cocked my head, “I tried not to push you at all…”
She chuckled, “No, you were awesome… what I mean is, I read Sins of the Fatherland. I can’t wait to hear Lee’s interpretation on Audio when it comes out.”
“He’s working on it right now…” I muttered, feeling dazed.
I suddenly realized the implications of her having read that book. I was honest about the experiences I had with Audrey Lambert and Ariel Mizrahi. I said nothing, waiting to see what her reaction would be.
She came close to me, “I’m so sorry… that Imani… or I guess Ariel woman… she meant something to you.”
I shrugged, “I barely knew her. But what I did know I liked and admired. And not just for the obvious reasons.”
Lisa laughed, “I’m glad. And I’m glad that Audrey bitch wasn’t the last intimate experience you had. It sounds like Ariel did you some good… I was surprised, though… by the descriptions.”
I chuckled, “You can blame Bob for that. Said he wanted more sex in my books.”
Lisa stared into my eyes, “You were honest about how my leaving affected you, too. Scott, I… I’m so…”
I touched her face, “Don’t apologize. You did what you had to do. That’s life and I just have to live with it.”
She shook her head, “Didn’t you hear me? I said I figured out what I needed to figure out.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, trying not to acknowledge the feeling of hope that was springing up inside, “and what is that?””
She drew in a breath, looked around at the crowd and then back at me, “That what I want is you. That who I am is the girl who’s supposed to love a hero… and that all I found out this past nine months… was that I’d wasted nine months. I don’t need to be apart from you to grow. I need to be with you… if you’ll still have me.”
This last she said very softly. She was opening herself up to a big rejection. I could very well tell her to pound sand, especially after what I’d gone through when she’d left.
Of course I wouldn’t do that. If her being away was what it took for her to get her head and heart straight… even if that meant having an affair with Miles Palmer, then so be it.
I pulled her into my arms and kissed her, “you think I’ll be a good enough substitute for that damned Palmer?”
She pressed her body to mine, “Nope, not even close… just like you can’t substitute filet mignon for a hot dog, baby. Scott… I … I love you. I never stopped.”
“Me either,” I said and we kissed again.
It might have been the five-thousandth time, but like every time, it was like the first time.
Later that afternoon, in the parking lot assigned to the Orlando police department’s detective squad, John Bryce, recently demoted to third grade detective from second, was striding out toward his late model Hyundai Tiberon. Bryce was a lean young man in his late twenties. He was about six feet tall with a shock of curly blonde hair and boyish features that would be handsome if they didn’t seem to portray anger so often.
Bryce was not having a good day. Ever since his drop in rank a few months back, he’d not had very many. O’Malley had told him he was lucky to still keep his gold badge. But for a man like John Bryce, a man who carried a ten pound hunk of granite on his shoulder, it was impossible to find the good in the bad.
Especially when the bad was entirely of his own making.
He was a good cop. A tough cop. He could be a great cop, too, if he’d only be let alone to do his job the right way. He often fantasized about what it must’ve been like back in the good old days. Those decades around the Second World War when cops could still shine the bright light on a suspect. When they could tune a punk up until he sang like a canary. Those days of the hardboiled tough detectives who could really get the job done.
But no, here he was, dealing with the touchy feely modern era. Everybody had rights… everybody had to be treated with respect… and God forbid you broke even a little bad with some suspect. It could all be over because their little criminal feelings got hurt.
And here he was, busted and working petty crimes. All because of that fucking Jarvis. That wise cracking prick who thought he was God’s gift to Orlando. A guy who gets away with it and then some and still never gets even a slap on the wrist.
And why? Because he’s got friends. That bitch Nolen and even O’Malley himself. They run interference for that arrogant son of a bitch.
So what if Bryce had given Jarvis a couple of love taps? Was that the end of the world or something? Was that a good enough reason to bust him down a grade?
Hell, if the asshole had fought back and gotten in a couple of shots, Bryce wouldn’t have complained. He’d have welcomed it. Far better that than just sitting there and doing nothing and letting that bitch Nolen file a complaint for him.
Spineless fuckin’ punk…
Bryce cursed and unlocked his car. The sports car was candy apple red. His baby. It might not be a Porsche or a Corvette, but she could still move nice. And it could turn a few heads, too. More than one little Chiquita had planted her tight little ass in the passenger seat. More than once he’d had to find a quiet spot so some girl he’d hooked up with at the club could really go to town on his Johnson.
Bryce grinned at that. Maybe that was an idea. Go home, change and come back downtown and hit Ruby Nights or the Elixir or something. Find himself a nice split tail to ride later on.
When he turned the key and nothing happened, and then tried it again, Bryce’s day went from irritating to downright frustrating.
“Oh, what the fuck now!” He grumbled.
The detective got out of the car and took a few steps away, flailing his arms in momentary rage. He’d never been very successful at controlling his temper.
The explosion threw him twenty feet across the parking lot. He was only stopped by the side panel of a SUV two spaces away. He was not killed, but there would be some injury. A concussion, four broken ribs, three small but deep lacerations from glass and a sprained ankle. But not fatal.
As Bryce watched in dazed astonishment as his car, or what was left of it, burned, he thought he sensed the presence of someone near him. He tried to turn his head but only slumped further down on the pavement.
A figure was near, but out of sight. Bryce felt a hand move over him quickly and then something patted his chest. The presence was gone after that.
He sunk into unconsciousness seconds later. When half a dozen uniformed officers and the duty sergeant appeared at the scene, they were astonished to find Bryce alive and with a sticky note attached to his coat.
The note would be the subject of a battery of police forensic investigations, but it would be the message that puzzled them most of all.
The first one’s free, the note read. And it was signed only with the moniker:
Shade
Author’s Notes
Ah, my valued and treasured story eater… here we are, yet again at that most dreaded crossroads… the end of another gripping tale. A thing to be regretted, yet not despaired of, as your humble scribe has lots of ideas for our friend the Jarvinator.
As you have just seen…
Does the last page or two of the epilogue make it seem as if the foundation for Scott Jarvis #8 has already been laid? Especially when I have a tentative title… That Way Lies Madness…?
So at least you won’t be left out in the cold, cold desert of the action adventure and mystery thriller series wilderness for too long.
Now, back to the one you’ve just devoured… if you’re a Jarvis fan and have read the previous books, notably Sh
adows of Limelight, then you’ll remember Lisa’s heart breaking departure at the end of that tale. You may also remember my author’s notes in which I said that I’d do something with that… and I guess I have. I hope that Lisa’s reappearance has been emotionally satisfying.
It’s kind of funny… Lee Strayer, who you may remember from such audio books as Choices, Isle of Bones and… well, this one if you’re hearing him speak right now… has suggested that Ms. Lisa is such a strong character that she might deserve her own series!
That may be, but it’s a tough one… I love the byplay between her and our hero. So who knows? Perhaps you can express your thoughts on my website…
Well, I certainly hope that no matter what, you’ve enjoyed this installment in the Jarvis series. At least as much as I had in bringing it to life for you. It’s both gratifying and humbling to know that my stories are being enjoyed. There’s no bigger motivation for a writer than to entertain!
Well, now it’s time for my shameless plugs! Oh, you knew it was coming…
First, if you enjoyed this book or Audio book, would you please rate it and review it at Amazon and / or Audible? Your thoughts are much appreciated and help others find new stories to enjoy.
I’d like to invite you to my website. There you can hop onto my mailing list for news about upcoming books, short stories, contests and other interesting doins’ related to Mr. Jarvis and myself.
Oh, and just by opting in, I’m going to send you a special gift, directly from the world of Scotty J himself!
http://www.scottwcook.com
Also, please feel free to follow me on my Facebook author page at:
http://www.facebook.com/swcwriter
Other books by the author…
In the Scott Jarvis Investigations series…
Choices – book 1
The Ledger – book 2
Play the Hand You’re Dealt – book 3
Isle of Bones – book 4
Shadows of Limelight – book 5
Sins of the Fatherland – book 6