by Scott Cook
“I can’t wait until tomorrow,” The blonde said matter of factly. She smiled thinly. I couldn’t tell her age, but I put her somewhere between thirty-five and forty.
“Well, if you don’t mind all this,” I indicated with a wave of the hand, “I can certainly chat for a few minutes.”
“Scott, this is Audrey Lambert,” Alexandra said by way of introduction.
Audrey Lambert cast a gaze that I felt was somewhat critical around my inner as well as outer offices. Her eyes finally landed on mine, “A pleasure. The way Alex talks about you… I expected something different.”
Sharon scoffed quietly but said nothing. Clay kept his attention on the work. I cocked my head slightly, “I’m not sure how to take that, Miss Lambert.”
She shrugged, “No offense intended. It’s just that from all I hear… you’re a larger than life character. I thought your office might reflect that.”
I chuckled sardonically, “It serves me. Humble yet comfortable. If you’re looking for flash, Ms. Lambert, you can try Gregory Foster. His agency is ten times the size of mine.”
She seemed to consider that for a long moment, “Yes… but my research indicates he’s not ten times the investigator you are.”
Sharon harrumphed. Lambert turned her placid gaze on the shorter blonde. There was something about her eyes. They seemed as hard as the glacial ice they brought to mind.
“What I have to discuss is confidential, Mr. Jarvis,” Lambert said.
I shrugged, “Then I’m sorry, Ms. Lambert. As you can see, I’m otherwise occupied. That’s why I suggested tomorrow.”
She frowned and looked at Alexandra. The older woman said nothing. I think Lambert was expecting some support.
Lambert sighed, “Tomorrow is no good. I really need to discuss this situation today.”
I scowled. I had a friend who had a maxim he was fond of quoting. It was something to the effect that your problems were not my emergency. I almost said this, but instead chose a slightly more diplomatic approach. After all… other people’s problems were my profession, at least, “MS…. Is it Miss?”
Lambert nodded.
“Ms. Lambert then,” I stated, “I don’t mean to be rude, but if whatever it is that is so pressing was so pressing… then why wait until the last minute? I’m sorry, but what I’ve got going on has been planned and is in the middle of being taken care of right now. I guess I’ll have to say I’m sorry I can’t be of any help.”
Lambert’s face darkened a bit. She wasn’t used to being rebuffed evidently. Her jaw clenched and she made a visible effort to contain herself, “Of course… you’re right. How about this. Are you free for dinner? My treat. We can talk after you’re done here at our leisure.”
“Look at you, Don Juan,” Sharon said, “Got yourself a date with a hot blonde just like that.”
“That’s hardly appropriate,” Lambert snarked, “Alexandra, this is hardly what I expected. I’m surprised you’d recommend this man.”
“He’s the best, Audrey,” Alexandra said in a tone that entertained no argument.
“Perhaps,” Lambert said coldly, “But his friends leave much to be desired.”
Lambert stared at Sharon. In her heels, the woman was a good head taller than Sharon. Sharon, of course, didn’t so much as flinch.
“We kid around quite a bit with each other, Ms. Lambert. That’s what friends do,” I said firmly, “If you walk unannounced into my office and expect everyone to assume a professional attitude for your sake, then I’m sorry that you’ve been so disappointed. I’ll agree to share a meal with you out of regard for Alexandra… but I don’t appreciate the slight on my friends. Let’s say eight o’clock. Do you live in town or are you visiting?”
“Visiting,” Lambert said with some evident chagrin, “I’m staying at the Hyatt Grand Cypress. Do you know that hotel?”
Clay whistled softly under his breath. I nodded, “I do. Over off Lake Buena Vista. That’s excellent. There’s a very good restaurant right there at your hotel called Hemmingway’s. How’s that sound?”
She nodded and seemed to relax slightly, “Excellent. I’ve heard it’s good. I’ll make the reservation and meet you there at eight this evening.”
“I look forward to it,” I said, “Sorry for the unusual circumstances.”
“I’ll walk you out, Audrey,” Alexandra said. She turned to me, “Thank you, Scott.”
“So sorry for the mess,” Sharon mocked after the other two women had gone, “Maybe I can kiss your Amazonian ass later and make up for it and my low life friends.”
“Really?” I asked, “Now who’s being poopy pants.”
“Fuck that bitch,” Sharon grumped.
Clay exploded with laughter, “Let’s you two girls mud wrestle.”
Chapter 3
Clay and I finished up a little after five. We’d have gone somewhere for beer and wings if it weren’t for Audrey Lambert. That sort of tweaked me a bit.
I’d finally gotten to the point in my business where I didn’t have to jump at every single case that came my way. I didn’t refuse many, with the obvious exception of divorce work, of course. I’m not even sure when that happened, really. It was early on, though. My very first case sort of soured me on divorce business.
Sharon and Lisa thought that it was due at least in part to the books. It was kind of crazy, I guess, publishing some of my cases as novels. Yet it had done well, and I actually had a decent little income from the five I’d published thus far. Between Audible and the Kindle books, I was making enough to pay my rent and the payment on my new vehicle.
I wasn’t getting rich, but the readership was growing every month. I’d actually just gotten the fifth book out right after New Year’s, called Shadows of Limelight. An interesting case that had had some unexpected fallout.
If you’ve read that book, then you may remember that Jillian Moore, pop and TV star, was involved in several twisted kidnapping plots. A friend of hers was dating a biker who lived here in town.
Well, this biker was renting a house in the Lee Vista area. After the events I chronicled in that book, he decided that leaving town might be his best option. I think he also changed his nickname, too.
As a result, his small blue house located in Chickasaw Oaks had become available. On the two occasions I’d been, I’d liked the place. It was small, a three bed, two bath home of about thirteen hundred square feet. Large open great room with big eat in kitchen, too.
One of the best features was that the house sat on a corner lot. Not a junction between two streets, but on the outside of a curving corner. This made the lot somewhat trapezoidal in shape. The frontage was what you’d expect from a relatively modern sub-division, but the backyard’s boundary must be at least twice the normal lot size. It was also fenced. In other words, a great place to play horseshoes or bocce ball and to let Morgan run around unleashed, unfettered and unencumbered as is his due.
So I’d moved at the beginning of the month. The rent was a bit higher than my apartment had been, but I could afford it and it was a great place for me and the pooch. I’ll admit that it was also something of a new start. There were a lot of memories for me at the Woodlands. Many great ones, but they were a bit tainted by Lisa’s departure. So changing location, while not solving your problems, can often give you a new point of view.
As I motored down Catbrier toward the house, I hit the garage door opener and the two car garage door slid open for me. I still had fun with that. It’s not like I’ve never used a garage door opener, but I’ve been an apartment dweller all of my adult life. Using my parents’ just wasn’t the same as hitting the button on your very own garage opener.
Lil’ Jarvis had a fern, an office window that would open and now his very own garage clicker. Was there no end to this avalanche of prosperity?
I eased my new 2019 red Jeep Rubicon into the center and stopped as the specially hung tennis ball touched my windshield. The Jeep was great. The Rubicon had the second set of doors and
an expanded back seat with a larger than usual cargo area. Larger than usual for a Jeep, that is.
I’d purchased the Jeep in October and gotten a good deal on it because it had been previously owned for a year or so. It only had eighteen thousand miles on it and you’d never know anybody ever drove the thing before me. Probably a little old lady who only went to church on Sunday no doubt.
Morgan and I climbed out and headed inside as the garage door began to slide noisily down.
“Least nobody can sneak in here that way, Pupson,” I commented to my two plus year old Doberman, “I feel safer, don’t you?”
Morgan indicated that he did indeed feel safer.
Well, he looked up at me, cocked his head to the side and wagged his tail a few times. I knew what he meant.
I’d made a few changes to the house since I rented it. Most notably, I activated the security system and replaced all the deadbolts on the front door, French doors to the patio and the inner garage door. I had broken into this very house in October and on top of that, I didn’t need Bulldog coming by unannounced one evening with his old key. Along those lines, I’d also had the garage opener replaced with a more modern model complete with new remote.
Morgan and I went out into the yard and played ball for a bit. After he went into the far corner, one hardly used, and did his business we went back inside and I got into the shower.
I was, in effect, going on a date with an admittedly very attractive blonde. However, I wasn’t really in any mood for dating just then. The wound of Lisa’s leaving was still fairly raw and the last thing I needed was another relationship.
Of course, in truth this wasn’t a date but a dinner meeting with a potential client. Not to mention that she seemed a bit stuck up, which was certainly not an attractive feature.
I had few illusions about how Audrey Lambert felt about this dinner. I had no doubt that to her it was most certainly not a date. She didn’t seem to like me much so there was little chance for anything to develop.
“So now I’ve got to go eat with a woman who looks down her nose at me,” I grumbled as I dried off.
Morgan was lying on my bed and watching. He said nothing but I knew that he empathized. Good ole Morgan. It was touching how he always agreed with me.
I drove out toward Disney after filling Morgan’s water bowl and giving him the last of a nice doggy-appropriate beef stew that I’d made him. No can shaped food-like product for my master.
Lake Buena Vista was the last part of Orlando that was adjacent to the Disney property. It was crowded with restaurants and hotels and could be reached from I-4, Kissimmee and the Doctor Philips area rather quickly. It was also extremely busy, because it was the eastern most access to the Walt Disney World region as well as what was once known as Downtown Disney which had been recently redesigned and renamed Disney Springs. Traffic was heavy, especially coming off I-4. Luckily, I knew the back roads and could access the area by getting off at Central Florida Parkway and coming around from the backside thanks to Palm Parkway.
The Hyatt Grand Cypress hotel is one of those very impressive Orlando resorts. Huge property with multiple pools and seemingly endless miles of walkways winding through lush foliage. The outdoor sections of the hotel were carefully crafted to give the impression of a tropical jungle. The pools even connected with a lazy river and a cave system that was a cleverly disguised area of poolside cabanas.
The interior of the hotel, especially the lobby, was even more impressive. It was massive, and the central atrium was open all the way to the top floor, which was twenty-five or thirty stories tall. A pair of glass elevators serviced these floors. The lifts were lit up on the top and bottom and rose through the atrium and were pretty fun to watch.
As it was quite a walk to the restaurant from the free parking lots, I pulled up in front of the main lobby portico and handed my new Jeep off to a valet. I wasn’t to worry, however, because the restaurant would validate my parking. Grateful for this, I strode inside the massive lobby and stood for a moment admiring the elevators.
One of them was descending. I stood for a moment watching and was surprised to see a tall blonde peering out through the clear wall of the elevator at me.
Audrey Lambert exited and came over to greet me, “You’re a little early.”
“It’s the early bird who gets the worm,” I said thoughtfully, “Promptness is a trait well worth cultivating… unless you’re a worm that is.”
She actually smiled. It was thin, but it was there. Proof positive that the good old Jarvis charm was still as powerful a weapon as ever there was.
“Thank you for meeting me,” Lambert said, “I know it was kind of short notice walking in on you this afternoon.”
I shrugged, “Bad timing. You seemed to feel let down by the state of things, however. Were you led to believe I had a big flashy office and that my personal friends would exude some sort of deference to you, a total stranger?”
She cocked an eyebrow at that but her smile, thin though it was, didn’t waver, “Point taken. I was a little harsh, wasn’t I? It’s not your fault at all, of course. It’s just that what I have to discuss is both urgent and critical. I guess I foolishly expected to walk into a war room and instead got a break room. I wasn’t at my best… so maybe we can start over? And let’s start with being a little less formal. Would you call me Audrey rather than Ms. Lambert?”
I grinned, “Of course, Ms. Lambert. May I escort you to the sustenance purveyor?”
She actually chuckled this time, “Are you always so silly?”
I offered her my arm and half shrugged, “I find life amusing, what can I say. And a little light hearted silliness is better than brooding, wouldn’t you say?”
“Sometimes,” Audrey admitted, taking my arm, “But for me, right now… it’s hard to let my hair down. The situation I need to talk to you about is one of vital import. I’d say at least critical to Florida and possibly to the nation in general.”
We were about halfway to the restaurant, which was situated outside the main hotel building in a standalone facility. I stopped and let her arm go as I turned to her, “Audrey… are you with a certain three letter agency by any chance?”
She smiled again but it seemed more wry than amused, “As a matter of fact, I am, Scott. However, you can put your mind at ease. I’m not with the FBI.”
I felt relieved by that. My dealings with the FBI had not always been great. To put it bluntly, I didn’t trust them, “Which agency, then? NSA, CIA, or military intelligence? NIS, CID… BMF, BFD… WTF?”
“I’m from Langley,” She said.
I sighed, “You’re with the CIA. Why not just say so?”
She shrugged, “I’m a spook, we’re trained to be cagey.”
“Why in the world,” I asked, not being able to contain my curiosity, “Would the CIA want to hire me? Especially since we are, the last time I checked, within national borders. Your agency doesn’t operate within them, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Mostly correct,” She said. She didn’t make any move to continue walking so I waited, “yet there are exceptions. Such as when an outside force is operating or could potentially operate within the borders. There’s some gray area there.”
“Okay…” I said, as if I really understood the rules of how these folks operated. Or even if they’d observe them strictly, “But I still have to wonder how a lone gunman like myself has anything to offer. Between all the intelligence agencies and the FBI as well as local law… what could I possibly offer?”
She seemed to consider me for a long moment, “I know a great deal about you, Scott. I know of your career with law enforcement. I know about your dealings with the FBI, from bringing down Ravetti Fisheries to that incident in the spring with William Griggs. I’ve read your books, I’ve read your FBI file and I’ve even talked to some people who know you. And there are several things I know about you that make you a potential asset to my mission.”
I frowned at that but couldn’t honestly expre
ss much surprise, “Uh-huh.”
“I know that you’re extremely capable for one,” Audrey stated, “That you’re willing to take risks and possess iron nerves. You don’t flinch in the face of danger.”
I waited.
“I also know that in spite of your tendency to wise crack and make light of things,” She went on, “That you possess a high IQ, you take your work seriously and have a strong streak of honor and integrity that drives you. You’re a man of his word and someone on whom people can count.”
I shrugged, “I think that’s important.”
“Finally,” She said, “You’re also a very dangerous man. You can pull the trigger or even use your bare hands when necessary and you don’t hesitate. You have a tendency toward physical violence but without any socio-pathological bent. You can maim and kill when required yet you still feel remorse and regret, even when absolutely justified.”
I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that, “Are you saying I’m a killer, Ms. Lambert?”
She shook her head slowly back and forth, “No… not exactly. I’m saying that you’ve got the grit to do what needs doing. You’ve also got the emotional and mental fortitude to not slide into the darkness, if that makes any sense. A man who will use words first before fists or weapons… but who won’t avoid using deadly force when necessary. Especially to protect another. The difference between hero and villain is intent and goal.”
I couldn’t argue even though there were a few elements in there that didn’t sit well with me, “Should I be flattered?”
She laughed this time, “I’m simply stating facts, Scott. I’m not trying to flatter you. If I were, hypothetically speaking, then I’d say that you’re also tall, handsome, sexy and physically powerful. You’re kind, thoughtful and an accomplished lover or so I hear. But this isn’t an ego boosting session.”
I scowled at that. I felt a vague sense of betrayal at having some woman or other I’d been with talking about our private life. Had it been Nikki Sloane? Maybe they’d met, both being employees of the Federal government?