“Charlotte, I could just go out as your builder and tell him I’m checking on the house for you. There is no need for you to get involved.”
“I became involved when my old friend’s granddaughter showed up on your doorstep, Paul. And let’s face it, having two of us confirm that my tenant is Tom Jamison will wipe out any doubts and second guesses from just one of us identifying him. The matter is settled; I’m going with you. Now, let’s get started.”
Realizing that he was beaten by his old friend, Paul shook his head and put the truck in gear, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the highway heading west to the citrus grove area. Charlotte patted his hand, smiled at him as if he was a well-behaved child, and then picked up her phone to find a number for her old friend, Beth.
Charlotte spent most of the twenty-minute ride out to her property on the phone. After letting Beth know about Taylor’s presence in Citrus Beach and reassuring her that the young woman was safe, she began the process of extracting information about Beth’s family, in particular her son Tom. By the time Paul was pulling into the driveway to the grove and the tenant’s house, Charlotte was disconnecting with Beth, pleased with herself. The truck came to a stop in front of the house, just as an average looking man came around the corner from the side yard, his arms full of yard debris. Looking up in surprise at the sight of the truck, he came to a sudden stop. Then, when he saw Charlotte in the passenger seat, he broke out in a smile and, after adding the pile in his arms to the growing pile of debris he had already collected at the edge of the driveway, he walked over to the truck to open her door.
While he approached them, they both took a hard look at his features. He might have been considered average looking to anyone else, but the two of them found his look extraordinary. He was Tom Jamison, a bit older than his pictures and, with a closer look, they saw that he had a recent scar to the left side of his face, just above his temple.
“Mrs. Potter, this is indeed a surprise! What brings you out here?” he asked as he helped her out of the truck.
“I just wanted to check on you and see what kind of storm damage we might have gotten out here, Bob,” she answered, using the name she knew him as. “This is my good friend, Paul Cassidy. He is my neighbor as well as my contractor, so I thought I’d bring him out with me to determine what kind of cleanup we are going to need.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Paul. I’m Bob Stump.” The man held out his hand for Paul to shake as he came around to stand next to Charlotte. Turning back to the older women, Bob absently rubbed his scar.
“There’s not much damage out here that I couldn’t handle myself, Mrs. Potter. The groves kept this house pretty protected. I had a couple sections of the wooden fence go over, but it won’t take any effort for me to fix that. As you can see, I’ve started hauling all the debris out to one area.”
Paul asked a few questions about the fencing and any other damages, making some notes on his phone. Charlotte kept the conversation going with a few observations, putting Bob at ease. After a few minutes, she suggested that Bob take Paul out to look over the property. Faking a weakness she certainly didn’t feel, Charlotte asked if she could wait for the two men in the house out of the heat of the afternoon sun. Waving away his concern, Charlotte assured Bob that she could find her way to the house just fine and sent the two men on their way. Once she was in the house and certain that they were occupied for at least ten minutes, she went into action.
Gone was the appearance of a frail old woman. She moved quickly from the living room to the back bed room that she knew Bob was using as an office. The room was sparsely furnished, only a large desk and chair, and off to one corner a lounge chair, end table, and floor lamp. Ignoring the obvious reading area, she sat down at the desk and without a qualm, began opening the drawers.
The top drawer contained Bob’s mail, mostly bills and advertisements. She could see no personal letters with her quick glance. Closing that drawer rather roughly in disappointment, she opened the middle drawer. Here she found maps. Maps of Florida and individual maps of the major cities throughout the state. She opened the top map and found that Bob had made notes in general about the areas he had been to. Not wanting to waste too much time, she folded the map the way it had been and moved on to the bottom drawer.
Here she found an expandable folder, the kind that was divided by the letters of the alphabet. Written across the front of the folder with black magic marker were the words “WHO AM I?” Glancing inside the folder, her eyes settled on a newspaper clipping, that she quickly pulled out to look over. Her time was running out, and she did not want to be caught snooping through her tenant’s belongings.
Mystery Man Manages to Survive
A severely beaten man was found, barely alive by a party of backpackers on their yearly trek through the Okefenokee Swamp. The party found the victim on the banks of the swamp, unconscious and in danger from not only his head wounds, but from the wildlife surrounding him. Firing off their weapons to chase away the alligators offshore, the rescuers administered first aid and waited for help to arrive. “He had a bad gash on his head and was in rough shape,” reported one of the backpackers. The victim was transported for medical help without regaining consciousness.
Putting this clipping away, Charlotte found a smaller follow up piece from the same newspaper:
Beaten Man, Barely Remembers
The victim from yesterday’s dramatic swamp rescue has regained consciousness, but recalls little of how he came to be left, hurt in the dangerous Okefenokee Swamp. Doctors report the man has severe head trauma and may not regain his complete memories for some time. Police are investigating the incident.
Charlotte looked at her watch as she returned the second article. Biting her lower lip in frustration, she saw that she could not afford to spend any more time snooping. The men would be returning to the house shortly and she needed to be back in the living room, recovering from the heat. She managed to not only make it to the living room, but to also pour herself half a glass of water to make it appear that she had been in that spot the whole time.
Once Paul and Bob had returned and a full report of any damages had been given to Charlotte, there was no real reason for them to stay any longer. Feeling she needed to keep Bob under surveillance, as they were leaving, she turned back to him to offer an invitation to dinner.
“You must come. My cook has it in her head that because we went without power for a spell that all the food in the house is going to go bad. She’s been cooking up a storm and I’m just not sure who is going to be there to eat it all! Paul and his wife will be there, too. It’s time for you to get to know some of us, Bob. Please say you’ll come.”
Bob looked a bit uncomfortable, but seemed to understand that it would be easier to accept Charlotte’s invitation, than to try and get out of it. Agreeing to be at her house later that evening, they said goodbye and Paul headed back towards town with Charlotte filling him in on her finds as he drove.
“You know, I think I remember hearing about that. It was, what, quite a few years ago wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was. And that corresponds with the time that Beth told me that her son disappeared, too. With his being found so far away from his home that would explain why the two incidents were never connected. When we get back home, I want to find out more about those articles. I barely had a moment to read the headlines. Something awful happened to that man, Paul. Something that needs to be put right.” Shaking her head in distress, Charlotte felt for the man.
Later that night two different women sat with their laptops, each trying to find as much information as they could about the same man, Tom Jamison. Charlotte was trying to find out what had physically happened to the man and why he had been found in the Florida swamps, near death. Megan was visiting site after site to find out any information she could on the man’s background and his companies.
Charlotte’s impromptu dinner party had been interesting to say the least. Bob had not tried to hide anything
about himself. The problem was that he could remember so little, including his name. He had woke up in the hospital all those years ago with no memory of how he had gotten there or who he was. As he recovered his physical health, he found that his memories still eluded him, as though they were visions glimpsed through fog. He told those at the table that he had felt that he was not from the area his rescuers found him, but felt sure that he belonged somewhere in the state. He had been traveling around the state since that time, trying to discover what he could. Each stop on his travels had brought him closer to Citrus Beach. He laughed as he told them that he had felt close to home when he arrived here. So, he had decided to settle in for a while, rest, and see what would happen next, because he felt that deep in is soul that his answers were in this area of the state, waiting for discovery.
Charlotte and Paul both wanted to tell him what they thought they had figured out, but by mutual agreement, they held back. Like Paul had told Charlotte when they had discussed it on the way back to town, someone had beaten the man and left him on the river bank to die for a reason. For his safety, they needed to be quiet until they had all the facts. There was also Taylor to think about. After Charlotte’s phone call to Beth, there was an additional factor to add to the mix, Beth was planning on arriving at Citrus Beach sometime tomorrow afternoon.
Charlotte made another call on the way back to town, which had been to Megan. Since the call had gone directly to voicemail, she had left a quick message about their discovery and asked Megan somehow to get her and Taylor back to Citrus Beach tomorrow. One way or another, everything would be coming to head as Taylor, Beth, and Bob all came face to face. Maybe the shock of seeing his family would help the man with his memories. If not, then it would be up to the women to fill him in as best as they could. Charlotte had made sure that Bob promised that he would join them tomorrow for dinner again, under the premise of having to get rid of all the food and wanting to have him meet a few more of her friends. Charlotte just failed to mention to the man that the friends he would be meeting already knew him.
Charlotte had found the two newspaper articles she had seen in the file from Bob/Tom’s desk while she was online researching. She read them over carefully this time since she was not in any hurry, but didn’t find out much more than what she had learned over the dinner table. She soon found herself sidetracked and was clicking on site after site, trying to find some medical explanation for the man’s loss of memory.
Hours passed as Charlotte learned more and more about the amnesia that Bob was experiencing. Her heart ached for her friend’s son. What torture he must be going through trying to find out who he was and why he had been left in that remote location to die. There was no question that if it had not been for that group of backpackers finding him just when they had, he would be dead. Either from the severe injuries to his head, or from the hungry alligators that preyed on weak or slower animals that found themselves in the reptiles’ lair. The cold blooded animals would make no discrimination about the type of animal it ate; man or beast, it didn’t matter.
Just as the cold blooded person or persons who had left him there to die; it didn’t matter how he died, just as long as he did. It had been apparent when Bob had been telling his tale, that he was injured at another location and dumped there. But he had no memory of who he had been with or why someone had wanted to hurt him. The pain they had seen in his eyes as he talked was not just about remembering the physical wounds he has suffered, but also from the hurt of knowing that someone had wanted to kill him. And the pain that he had felt when he had realized that there was no one coming forward to the hospital to “claim” him. So upon his release, he began his search to find out who he was and where he came from; to fill in the gaps in his memory. And somehow he had known he had to be discreet about his inquiries, to preserve his safety.
Chapter Ten
While Charlotte had been busy with her research, Megan had been working on some of her own. Taylor and Richard had shooed her away from helping cover up all of the collected items to protect them from the fast approaching rain. So, instead, Megan had taken Barney for a quick walk and then gone back to the living room to continue trolling the Internet for any mention of Tom Jamison and his companies. When Robert and Taylor finished and returned upstairs, they did not interrupt her work. Robert pulled out an old paperback of a western adventure that was obviously a favorite and had been read many times before. Taylor saw that Megan was deep into her work, so she grabbed her own laptop and started to put some of the idea she had come up with about the work, ahead of them.
They each sat in silence, with only the sounds from the radio in the kitchen for background noise, comfortable with each other’s company. Time passed quickly, and soon Robert was standing up, stretching.
“I’m going to go outside on the deck for a bit before I turn in for the night, ladies. When I come in, I’ll lock up.”
“You know, I think I’m going to go to bed too. It’s been a tiring day. Are you staying up, Megan?”
“Hummmm?” Looking up from information she was reading on the screen in front of her, Megan realized the others had been talking to her.
“Sorry about that. I tend to get lost in what I’m doing when I’m on the computer. No, I’m going to stay up a bit longer and work on this. You two go ahead, I’ll see you both in the morning.”
Robert nodded his head in agreement and wandered out onto the deck while Taylor gave Barney a good-night pat on the head and headed off to the bedroom she had claimed for herself. Megan reached over to grab a drink of her water before turning back to the article she had been reading. The smell of Robert’s pipe filtered in through the open window and Megan smiled as she realized the older man had snuck out for a smoke. She didn’t mind the scent, it reminded Megan of her late husband, always with his pipe in hand. But everyone knew that Charlotte had a ‘no smoking’ policy in all of her buildings and no one dared cross her on this issue. Robert had been Charlotte’s plant manager and friend for many years and went out of his way to honor her wishes.
Turning her attention back to the laptop in front of her, Megan prepared to go back to articles she had bookmarked. She had not wanted to delve too deeply into them with Taylor sitting right across from her. She was surprised at how much information she had been able to find not only on Tom Jamison and his company, but also a number of articles about his disappearance and the plans his partner and wife had for these companies. It didn’t take her long to lose herself once more in her research; she didn’t even hear Robert come back in and say good-night.
As she had found before, Tom Jamison had created a very successful company dealing with imports coming into the port of Miami. He wasn’t the largest importer by any means, but he had become one of the most prominent importers of Chinese Art and Furniture, catering to the interior design industry. Surprisingly, over the last four or five years after his disappearance, the company had also started to venture into the importation of Spices and Teas from the Caribbean.
Because of his generosity, he was often recognized by the charities and foundations that he supported, so Megan was able to find plenty of photos from the society sections of the Miami papers and magazines. In most of the pictures his wife, Gina, and his partner, Malcolm Fields, were also featured. Megan couldn’t help but notice how stylish and fashion forward Gina was; it was obvious that she dressed in only designer outfits, and Megan was pretty sure that the jewelry that seemed so prevalent had to be authentic. As for Malcolm Fields, Megan got the impression that the man was a social climber. In every picture she found of him, he was shaking the hands of either a rich member of the country club, major business owner or an influential politician. Without even meeting the man, Megan could tell she did not like him.
It was Barney pawing at her arm for attention that finally forced Megan to close up her laptop for the evening. Surprised at how late it was, she headed off to bed, a yawning puppy following close behind. Climbing into bed a few minutes later, she let
the dog jump up to curl in a tight ball at the foot of the bed. Megan knew she was breaking her own rules about no dogs in bed, but it was a strange place for him, and his buddy Fred, was not here to share the doggy bed and keep the puppy content. Checking her messages one last time before bed, hoping for some word from Aiden, she was surprised to find a message from Charlotte. After listening to her message, Megan sighed. She knew Charlotte was right; they needed to get Taylor and Tom together, but that meant another drive back down to Citrus Beach and lost hours on their retrieval project. With the rain showers they had gotten late that afternoon, Megan knew her time would be limited on being able to salvage items still in good condition. She was disappointed not to see anything from Aiden, but understood he was busy on a case. She emailed him a quick message, filling him in on her work that day, not bothering to mention the little mystery she had fallen across; there was no sense in telling him until she had more information. Pushing the send button on her phone, Megan reached over and turned off the light that sat on the dresser by the bed.
The room was in total darkness, except for the light of the moon coming in through the window. Megan should have been able to fall asleep quickly, but she found herself going over and over the day in her mind instead. After fighting with herself for the next fifteen minutes, she gave up. Turning the lamp back on, she grabbed her laptop and opened it to continue her research on Tom Jamison. Barney looked up at her questioningly, but after a word of reassurance from Megan, he put his head back down and soon his gentle snores filled the air.
This time, she expanded her site inquires to include Gina Jamison and Malcolm Fields. She found that there were a lot of overlapping articles and information, but still was able to get a better understanding about the two of them. Gina was a society news hog; if there was an event that she attended, she managed to have her picture taken and included in the society pages. Malcolm was almost as bad, but the kind of people he seemed to gravitate towards were politicians and big spenders. There was one picture in particular that caught Megan’s attention; Gina was in the foreground, modeling a new gown and some sensational jewelry and the reporter was writing an article about her. However, it was what was going on in the background of the picture that Megan found more interesting. Tom and Malcolm were standing behind Gina, off to the side a bit, and it was obvious that they did not know the photo was being taken. It was also clear to Megan that the two of them were arguing about something. Malcolm had his arm raised and seemed to be poking Tom in the chest. Tom had his arms crossed against his chest in a manner that showed he was not going to be deterred by Malcolm’s argument. Megan noted the date of the article and, doing some quick calculations, determined that it had been taken just a short time before Taylor had said her father had disappeared.
SCENT OF A MYSTERY...A CITRUS BEACH MYSTERY (Citrus Beach Mysteries Book 2) Page 9