Treasure Coast

By Dan Biggins

Total relaxation proves elusive for a promising trial attorney residing in an idyllic beach town. His pursuit of success unexpectedly yields to a deadly hunt for a pirate treasure. Brennan turns to his uniquely talented friends, along with a heavy dose of intense recreation, to help maintain his focus while he navigates emotional and legal landmines.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dan Biggins
• Release date: Jan 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311150424

Dan Biggins

The author has mad geographic skills.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

SAINT AUGUSTINE, FLORIDA – 1894

A weary young man cast a short shadow as he emerged from the enclave of tiny shops in the old village. The stevedore was forced to flex his tired muscles as he tugged open the hardwood door. He anxiously entered the small tavern bordering the picturesque harbor bay. The building seemed ancient for the New World, and smelled older still.

As the man tripped over the uneven slats in the floor beneath him, the grisly bartender who eternally busied himself wiping down the bar in between mixing and pouring spirits looked up and took notice of the man.

Good afternoon, Mr. Lee, announced the bartender much louder than he needed to, as he flipped his soiled rag over his shoulder. Tilting his oblong head, the bartender knowingly motioned Lee toward a door off to the right side of the bar.

Lee trudged warily into a small, poorly appointed office. The three men occupying the room sat at a card table. The table was adorned with four shot glasses, two seemingly identical ledger books, and a half-empty bottle of spiced rum. One man looked thin, short and well-dressed, which magnified the fact that the two men bordering him on either side appeared just his opposite. The well-dressed man spoke firmly as he picked at his fingernails with a short, pearl-handled knife.

It’s a good thing you came to me, Lee. I almost sent my boys here to look for you.

Mr. Jackson, if I knew you were looking for me I would have come even earlier, assured Lee, as he stole a seat at the table.

Maybe so. You might be the only dependable client I have, except when it comes to your own finances, that is. Jackson examined Lee. Of course, being early won’t serve to lessen the debt to be paid.

No sir, but anyway, I’ve got something to share with you, said Lee with a sudden excitement.

Unless it’s about my money, I doubt I'll want to hear it.

Lee looked at him cautiously, Oh, I think you'll want to hear about this, Lee said emphatically, his mood still energizing.

Jackson sat quietly with no expression before deciding to indulge him.

Very well, Jackson allowed, signaling a larger man on his right to fill the shot glasses.

You see, Lee proceeded, I know about something worth much more than what I owe you. Lee paused and successfully piqued their interest.

As you probably know, my grandfather worked as a merchant sailor and had occasion to sail with those who’d worked as privateers at one time or another. Anyhow, sharing the same love for cards that I do, and maybe being a bit sharper, Grandfather kept winning big one night as they were moored in this very harbor. And he took as a percentage of a stake for the game, a good piece of a treasure map.

He continued, Now I bet you’re thinking, you have heard about quite a many more maps than treasures around these waters, but the reason Grandfather took this particular map as collateral involved the reputable story that accompanied the map. He paused for effect as he surveyed the three faces around the table.

You see, the story matched up with the well-known histories of a privateer vessel that got beached in a hurricane some 250 miles down the coast, near a little inlet.

Lee leaned in a little closer before continuing in a hushed voice. And, what no one knew was that the crew survived. See, the captain, sensing the storm on its way, dispatched the jolly boats toward shore. The sailors paddled through the inlet and into the protected lagoon with chests full of coins and fine jewelry. The crew returned after a spell and I expect recovered the boxes of jewelry and coins. But this map got drawn up for a special box the privateer had buried himself. He had stolen away from the group and rowed further north by night and was never discovered burying his part of the treasure. And by delay due to illness, this privateer was just now making his way back as a boarded passenger when he got himself in the card game with Grandfather.

Don't you suppose that pirate man had another copy of the map? grumbled one of the large men.

There are always two maps. Everybody knows that, added the other large man in agreement.

It’s a good question, but not one that can be readily answered because the privateer fell overboard the very next day. Sad, really.

Fell, eh? questioned Jackson. And I suppose you’re saying that treasure still sits there to this day?

It most surely does. Grandfather was too superstitious to go after the treasure chest following what befell the other man. He believed it cursed. Lee glanced around the room, challenging any doubters. And he feared the natives would capture him if the curse didn’t. But he held onto the map nonetheless.

Lee let them calculate matters before continuing.

Subsequently, my father inherited the map. But he only half-believed in the treasure. See, it’s quite a thing to travel 250 miles to search for a legend, much less to get the goods back to civilization. And my father, being the son of a merchant sailor, had not one adventurous bone in his body.

The three men reluctantly nodded, quietly acknowledging the truth of the assertion before each taking a sip.

Anyway, I have the map now, but I don’t have the money to go looking for the treasure, his voice lost its unbridled enthusiasm, and I am sorry to report, I don’t have your money today, Lee lamented, as he turned his stare down into his empty glass.

And now we have come to the point, I suppose, said Jackson, gesturing skyward with his knife. Instead of my money, you pay me in fairy tales?

Jackson paused to give the matter some thought before directing his attention back toward Lee, On another day, I might be sticking this knife into your gullet to teach you a lesson. But today might be your lucky day. As it happens, I’m in the mood for a treasure story.

Lee brightened and started to talk when Jackson quickly cut him short.

Quiet, before I change my mind! Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to round up a few of those worthless roustabouts by the docks and board Henry Flagler’s little steam engine and go for a ride down the coast. You’re going to make passage as far south as she runs right now, and you’re going to scout out and lay claim to some highland for me within a mile or two radius of the track. Build some permanent quarters out of whatever driftwood you can find. And you squat until I send someone down there to take your place.

And how soon will that be?

Just as soon as I have a buyer. That land is going to be my treasure. Soon that land will be worth more than our little box of pirate trinkets.

And what if no buyer comes along?

Then you’ll be lucky to be alive down there in my grace, instead of dead where you sit, the thin man threatened, unconsciously gripping his knife.

I see your point, said Lee, feigning resignation.

CHAPTER 1

Tony pushed the pedal to the floor of the black Lexus SUV. The replacement-part engine strained before catching its breath and lurching itself through the yellow light at the end of the exit ramp. Tony wondered if the car would even make it out of Jersey.

Piece of shit rebuild, Tony growled. He could feel Doughboy giving him a stupid look while Tony kept his eyes focused on the road.

Hey Tony, where does this claimant live again? Doughboy asked as he pressed his giant, greasy thumbs against the tiny screen of the GPS system.

Tony growled again. I told you to look that address up when we stopped at the rest area, and I told you again while we were on the turnpike.

Tony glanced at Doughboy, who made no progress. His temper flared. Tony reached out and slapped the device out of Doughboy's hands.

What did you do that for? Doughboy cried out.

I know where I'm going already, fatso. I used to do some collections down here.

For who? Doughboy asked.

None of your business, Tony replied.

I won't tell nobody.

I know you won't, ‘cause you don't know nothing.

Doughboy stared out the window at the businesses flashing by them. He wished he owned one of the small stores instead of working for the insurance company with Tony. Doughboy’s Ma had made him get the job to stay out of trouble. Doughboy got arrested for being in a car in a situation where somebody outside the car got his legs broken by the car. He didn’t say anything to anybody even after the cops threatened to call his Ma.

His Ma told one of the old guys down at the strip club that Doughboy’s staying quiet counted for something. Then they got him the office job. He just showed up and had to do what Tony said. He got to surf the internet a lot, but he wasn’t allowed to ask out the pretty office girls. There hadn’t been much trouble until now. The most action he had seen involved riding along on a few disputes with certain body shops that refused to play ball with the insurance company.

Doughboy saw a sign for a pizza restaurant and his stomach began rumbling. He turned to ask Tony a question. Tony seemed to read his mind somehow.

No. Not now. Tony wiped the sweat from under his nose. We can eat after we interview the claimant.

Doughboy thought Tony seemed very agitated. Tony had pitched a bitch about the mad claimant guy for a few days. Doughboy wasn't even sure the boss knew they planned to stop off on their way to Florida. Tony might be making another unsanctioned stop. That's what the Boss angrily called Tony's little detours. Doughboy always got in trouble too, but he couldn't reason with Tony. Tony was a real bad dude. Doughboy wasn’t scared of Tony, but Tony had the car keys.

Finally they seemed to be getting close to where the claimant lived. They made a few turns into an average neighborhood and pulled up in front of the house. Doughboy hoped they had the right house anyway. Tony got out of the car. He had definitely whipped himself into a lather again. Doughboy followed him to the front door. Tony kicked a kid’s Bigwheel out of his way as he walked up the driveway.

Doughboy saw a guy come to the door. The guy matched the photo of the pestering claimant named Ruiz.

Who are you guys? the claimant asked.

We're from Rockledge Insurance Company. We understand you got a problem with your claim? Are you Ruiz? Tony asked.

The guy opened the door a little more.

Yeah. I got a problem. You guys only paid for half the damage to my truck. I use that truck to put food on my table. You never paid me the rest, Ruiz said.

Well, that's ‘cause you was half at fault. You don't get the whole amount, Tony argued.

I got liability.

You want your rates to go up? You want to get dropped? Tony asked.

I got three kids.

You got an insurance policy, not a welfare policy. Tell him Doughboy.

Doughboy took his cue. It ain't a welfare policy.

Like he said. So are you done calling my supervisor? Tony snarled at him.

You guys are unbelievable. And another thing. You only paid me for used parts. I'm supposed to get OEM.

Tony laughed. ‘OEM’ he says. Did you hear that, Doughboy? OEM? This guy. You don't want OEM. That junk is made in China. Your parts have been tested in the field. There ain’t nothing wrong with used parts. The car we drove up in is made from used parts. It runs like a fucking top. Ain't that right, Doughboy?

Like a top, Doughboy agreed. He was already backing away as he had become conditioned to working with Tony.

That's not good enough. I'm the customer. The customer is always right.

Ha. The customer is always right. Did you hear that, Doughboy?

Before Doughboy could respond, Tony grabbed Ruiz’s throat and pushed him into the door. Ruiz tripped backwards over a bubble-pop toy lying in the foyer. As Ruiz fell, he hit the tile floor with the back of his skull. Tony landed on top of him. Doughboy saw Ruiz’s eyeballs roll back in his head.

Ah shit, Tony said. I think I killed the bastard.

Tony! Doughboy said nervously.

I know. Let's get outta here. But before he got up, Tony studied Ruiz’s body and realized he better make sure there were no witnesses. Tony squeezed the claimant’s throat with both hands just to be thorough. He always finished a job. One less claim to worry about.

CHAPTER 2

Jack turned the file folder over in his hands as he considered what to do with the contents. Was this a case he should take? On the one hand, the old man in the next room seemed crazy. On the other hand, most of his off-the-street clients seemed to have a screw winding loose in their old age, which is why Jack tried to stick to corporate work.

Jack’s young partner Brennan had set up this meeting. Brennan had a delicate side when it came to the locals. Jack decided to wean Brennan away from this type of charity work rather than trying to rip off the bandage. Jack also knew that the client owned some pretty valuable property on the barrier island. As a small town attorney Jack new the value of goodwill. He sighed and hit the intercom button.

Betsy, send in Mr. Lee.

Jack smiled like a politician as the old man hobbled into his office. Jack offered his hand over the cherry desk. Mr. Lee, distracted with the effort to move, suddenly noticed the hand and brightened his pained expression as he took Jack’s palm. Lee plopped his uncooperative body down in one of the two chairs opposite Jack.

Jack craned back in his executive leather chair. What can we do for you today, Mr. Lee?

I need some legal advice.

I’m sure you discussed our rates with Betsy?

Yes, I already signed the representation papers, Lee said.

Great. So how can we put your mind at ease today? I understand you have a real estate problem?

Not a problem with the title. But I am caught in a red tape nightmare, Lee said.

Jack didn’t waver a bit. Mr. Lee, cutting through red tape is our specialty.

Lee nodded. That’s what I heard. My problem is I am trying to get my property in Fletcher’s Island designated as a historical landmark.

Jack rubbed his chin. Mr. Lee, Fletcher’s Island is a very secluded area. Do you really want the kind of attention having that designation would draw? That property is valuable as it is, without all of the complications that travel along with a historical designation.

I understand the issues. I have my reasons.

You won’t be able to dig a koi pond out there without federal intervention.

Can I trust your discretion?

Of course. Everything you tell me is attorney-client privileged information.

Lee checked in both directions for anyone who might be listening in. He leaned in toward Jack.

Just between us, there is a pirate treasure buried on my property. The treasure was buried nearby when my grandfather settled the land over a hundred years ago. It’s been the family secret, but I am going to turn the property into a tourist bed and breakfast and maybe add on a museum room. I need to act quickly. I have insurance men coming to visit me along with a property appraiser.

Jack got wide-eyed for the first time in a long time. What had that damn Brennan gotten him into? Jack gathered himself. Mr. Lee, have you seen this treasure? he asked skeptically.

I assure you, the treasure is quite real. I may look to you like a senile old man, but I let my gold do the talking. Lee flipped a coin up onto the desk.

Jack grabbed the gold instinctively. He held the coin up. It looked real enough. Rough around the edges, not smooth like the trinkets the hucksters sold at gift shops down in the Keys.

Check this out, Lee said, as he handed Jack a copy of a treasure map. Jack inspected the map. A large X marked a treasure buried beneath a house.

Okay, you have my attention. But still, Vero Beach is a quiet town, and Fletcher’s Island is an actively-guarded community with 20-foot high walls. Some of your neighbors have considerable means. They won’t appreciate outsiders. This could be an expensive legal battle if word gets out.

That’s why I am counting on your discretion, Jack. I’m certain you can understand that spending a treasure is no way to stay wealthy. My family settled Fletcher’s Island selling off piece by piece, and we don’t have much left to show for our inheritance. I am not going to fritter away my treasure in my old age. I am going to use it to generate income for my descendants. I am going to make my money work for all of us. My first major concern is getting that historical designation, and the only thing I need to know is if you’ll take the case.

Jack remained skeptical but he guessed he couldn’t argue with Lee’s logic. He held the coin up, slowly nodding his head yes as the gold reflected in his eyes.

CHAPTER 3

Brennan searched for a rag to wipe the gasoline spillover off the transom of the fifteen-foot jet-powered