“Here, take my hand. Are you hurt?”
“Is everyone okay? Do you want us to call the police or an ambulance?” The young valet asked as Aidan helped Megan to her feet.
“Thank you, but no we’re okay. You are okay, aren’t you, Megan?”
“I’ll be fine, sore, but no broken bones. Did you see who was in the truck?”
“No, and the tag was obscured. Somehow I don’t think that was a random act of carelessness.”
The valet handed Megan a towel he had in his hand to wipe the sidewalk grit off her skin and looked over at Aidan. He seemed to hesitate, and then made up his mind before he spoke.
“Sir, that Ford truck has circled the block a couple of times in the last twenty minutes or so. I noticed because I am looking to buy a truck like that one. There were two men in the truck and they looked over here at the club every time they passed by.”
“You’re positive it was the same truck?”
“Absolutely. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to help?”
Aidan looked at Megan wiping the blood off her elbow where she had hit the sidewalk and realized that his first concern was to get her to safety and out of the line of possible fire before anything else happened. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and handed them to the valet.
“Would you mind pulling our truck over here, so she doesn’t have to walk as far? It’s parked on the other side of the street. We’ll wait at your entry.”
“I’d be happy to. I’ll be there in a moment. There is bottled water at the valet stand if you need any.”
Taking the keys, the young man headed over to Aidan’s truck. Aidan took Megan’s arm and guided her to the valet stand where they would be out of the open.
“How did they find me so fast? There is no way that was just a coincidence.” Megan voice was stronger now and Aidan could hear a touch of anger in it. That was good; anger would keep her from being too afraid to fight back.
“You’re right. My gut is telling me that Leslie Black’s sudden disappearing act from the office had something to do with this. We need to find out a lot more about her and what her connection to JT was other than an office assistant.”
“Well, let’s go over there and ask her.”
“No, not yet. Have you ever heard the expression ‘give them just enough rope, and they’ll hang themselves?’ Let’s see what happens next. We need to figure out what is going on here in Citrus Beach, as well as who killed John and now wants you out of the way. I think she is just a pawn, maybe an important one, but not our main target. Come on, here’s the truck. We need to go somewhere public so we can go over all of this material we’ve accumulated. Know anywhere?”
“We could try the library. Or we could see just how bold they really are: we could use the conference room at the town hall. The sheriff’s office is right next door.” Megan had a wicked smirk as she offered her suggestions to Aidan. He had to laugh with her; it would take someone very bold or desperate to come at them when they were within shouting distance of the police.
The valet pulled up right beside them and asked again if they were okay. Aidan reassured the young man and thanked him for his help. Giving him a tip, Aidan also included his business card. As Aidan helped Megan into the vehicle, he asked him to call if he remembered anything else, or if the truck returned.
Megan gave Aidan quick directions and then pulled out her phone to call the sheriff and let him know what had happened and what their plans were. After hearing that they were okay, Sheriff Green told her that he was out in the field and would check in with them later that evening. He also told her that, with such little information about the attacking truck, there was not much he could do, other than have his officers keep a lookout for it. Since Megan and Aidan had already come to the same conclusion, she was not surprised. Promising to be careful, Megan hung up.
Chapter Twelve
Twenty minutes later, they were in the conference room, spreading their materials out on the large wooden table. When they had arrived at the town hall, they had found that the sheriff had called ahead and cleared their way to use the room. Megan had been surprised to see Aidan pull his own laptop from the truck, but he explained that he would need the clearance his computer had to access the web sites he wanted to use in order to find out more about Leslie Black and any other information they had uncovered.
Apparently just having a password was not secure enough for these sites.
“Somehow I think it’s best. I just don’t know how you can have access to all this information just at the tap of a computer screen.” Megan joked with Aidan as he entered his codes and began to type in queries about Leslie Black.
“You’re right, its best you don’t know. It will take a while for me to get this information back, so let’s look at what else we have here to work with. Oh, can you grab a pad of paper and we’ll categorize these items and see what connects to what?”
While Megan dug in her tote bag for the pad of paper she had stuffed in it with the printouts from her office, Aidan searched around for a pen. Not finding one readily available on the table, he dug into his jacket pockets. Pulling out one, he started to write and realized it was not a regular ink pen. Instead, it was the camera pen he had pocketed from JT’s office. Aidan looked at the pen in surprise; he had completely forgotten about it. Grinning, he pulled the pen apart to reveal a small SD card that could be put into his computer to read whatever photos were on it.
“Since I gave this to JT before his graduation party, I can just imagine the pictures we’ll find on this. Let’s look over those lists we found and the books you grabbed from his office. Maybe there is some correlation between them.” Putting the pen back together, he dismissed it and pulled the books towards him.
Aidan began flipping through the books, while Megan pulled out the copies they had made of the files from JT’s home computer and stacked them side by side on the table in front of them.
“Why did you pull out these three books, Megan? What made them stand out to you in all those rows of books?” Aidan looked at her questioningly, trying to figure out what directions her thoughts had taken her back in the office.
“You know, I think it was the fact that all the books had Citrus Beach in their title. All the other books seemed to be about investments and large corporations. And to be honest, they were a little more colorful and eye-catching. They stood out against all those dull muted leather bound books. Oh, and the fact that even though they seemed to be about the same topic, they were on different shelves. Everything else was very organized, and subjects grouped together. I could be all mystical and tell you they called to me, but the truth is it was just simple observation.”
“Okay, sounds reasonable. So here we have a book on who’s who in the area. That makes sense … you want to know and target potential investors for the firm. But why a book about the history of the town?”
“Actually that makes a lot of sense too, Aidan. You have to understand … Florida is a relatively new state compared to the northern states. Most of our development didn’t really take off down here in the south until Henry Flagler built his railroad system. So consequently, many of the founding fathers of our town are direct decedents of its citizens with the most money and control today. I mean we are talking only generations, whereas, up north, we would be talking about centuries. And the book on property ownerships might be just so John could see who had extensive holdings in the county.”
Aidan nodded his head in agreement of Megan’s words. What she had to say was logical. And in all honesty, not something he would have thought of right away. She had been right, having someone who knew the town and its people would be a help in his investigation. While he had been listening to Megan, Aidan had finished flipping through the first book and picked up the second book, Who’s Who and began to flip through that one, as well. Suddenly he noticed that some of the pages were marked with a yellow highlighter.
Placing the book down on the table, h
e held it open and reached for the computer printout they had brought that had the list of names with dollar amounts next to them. As he compared the list to the highlighted names in the book, he was not surprised to find matches. Grabbing the book on property ownership, he found that there was a correlation between names highlighted and names associated with large property holdings, mostly commercial holdings.
While he was comparing the list to the two books, Megan was looking through the book on the history of Citrus Beach. It took a few minutes, but Megan also began to see a pattern. But it was not one that she expected to see. Pulling the computer list from Aidan, she double checked herself before she told Aidan what she thought she was finding.
“Aidan, this book contains some of the oldest and most prominent families in the town. These are our founding fathers, old money, and inherited money. I’m not finding any of their names on this list. It’s almost as if John was making a list of who was wealthy, but not of significant historical influence. He is tracking what they call ‘new money.’ If you check, I’ll bet you’ll find that most of the names on this list have made their money in the last fifteen to twenty years.”
Aidan looked at Megan in admiration, accepting what she said as fact. He was not sure where this information was going to lead them, but he did know they were on the track of something; something that John thought important enough to keep track of and keep from prying eyes.
“Aidan, you know, I do recognize some of these other names. They are the same type of people as those JT listed from Citrus Beach. They’re all wealthy business and landowners. I mentioned before that I had met some of them at a few charity functions I had attended. The names I recognize are from the Miami and the Palm Beach area. If I remember correctly, we were all at a fundraiser to benefit Neptune’s Trident Preserve. I can’t say that any of them were really passionate about it, not like our local citizens. It felt more like they were there to be seen and make connections: more of a business feeling than a social feeling. Does that make any sense to you? I’m not sure how to explain it any better than that. It was just an overall sense, almost as if there were two different agenda’s going on in the same room.”
“I actually know exactly what you mean. I’ve been in a room with that atmosphere a time or two myself. What is Neptune’s Trident and why does it need a fundraiser?”
Megan smiled as she happily explained about one of her favorite causes.
“Neptune’s Trident is a nature preserve that was donated to Citrus Beach about thirty years ago by a rich spinster named Mrs. Beard who had no heirs. She spent her last years on that property watching the birds and protecting the wildlife that lived there. It is said she spent so much time there because the love of her life promised to meet her there, but he never showed up on the day they were to meet. Do you remember where we found that trail over by Carol’s?”
“Yeah, I think you said something about its being the start of a preserve. Same one?”
“The very same. Where we were is actually the very start of it and the widest end. From that point, it forms straight out into the ocean, narrowing as it goes. A peninsula, really. About half way up on both sides there are three separate islands that curve up the sides of the mainland. When there is a low tide, the sandbars between the islands connect and they form the shape of Neptune’s Trident. Here like this.” As she explained the shape of the preserve, she drew the shape of a pitchfork, or a trident.
“It’s a wonderful place to spend the day. Old Mrs. Beard established some wandering nature paths and had some great sitting areas placed throughout the preserve as well as a few covered pavilions, in case you were caught by the rain. There are no overnight visits allowed, or barbeques, but it’s still a special place for a cold lunch and an afternoon of peace. We have had a number of famous artists that spend days out there painting. And I know for a fact that one of our local bestselling authors spends most of his time out there with his laptop. And that’s not counting members of the National Audubon Society that come from all over the world to visit and bird watch.”
“Sounds like a wonderful place. Not something JT would tend to be involved with though. Maybe his parents were. Let’s check those files I downloaded from his office computer and see what we come up with.” As he spoke, Aidan inserted his flash drive into the laptop and waited for the files to open. Megan watched beside him and couldn’t help the sigh of frustration when the programs opened to show the same files they had already made copies of. The menu showed many other files, but it was obvious that they were work related. Aidan tapped hard on the two piles of paper in front of them.
“These were important to JT for some reason. He took the precaution of making copies of them and keeping it safe at his home, away from work. We need to work from these files and figure out what he was into. I think when we figure that out, we’ll know why he was killed. Once we know why, it will be easier to figure out by whom.”
Aidan’s words gave Megan a chill. Rubbing her arms against the rise of goose bumps, she turned and reached down into her tote for her sweater. As she pulled it out, it revealed the photo album she had stashed in there while at Travel’s Investments. In all the excitement of the afternoon, she had forgotten about it.
“Aidan, there is something else you need to see.”
Pulling it out, she placed it on the table in front of Aidan. As she put her sweater on, Aidan opened the book and smiled as he looked at the first page of pictures, most of his son and John.
“Thank you for this, Megan. I haven’t seen these shots of the kids before. They really should go to John and Julie“
“Just keep looking, Aidan. I think you’ll be as surprised as I was.”
Aidan glanced up at Megan as he turned the next page, puzzled by her comment. He looked at the pictures on this page, but could see nothing that would have caught Megan’s interest. Waving her hand, Megan signaled for him to keep turning pages. After a few more turns, he found a hiding place made in the book. As Megan had already seen, the back half of the album’s pages was glued together. Then someone, presumably JT, had hollowed out the center of these pages, creating a perfect hiding place for the manila envelope that lay there.
Chapter Thirteen
“What in the world?” Aidan exclaimed as he reached into pick up a thick envelope resting in the holding place. Turning the package over, he saw his son Brandon’s name written across its center. Grabbing the corner of the envelope, Aidan made as if to tear it open.
“Aidan, you can’t open that.”
“I’m sorry? Why not, it could be the answer we’re looking for.”
“Yes, it could. But it could also be something very personal between your son and JT. You have to let Brandon know about it before you open it … it’s his right to see it first.”
“Megan, that’s all fine and good, but we are trying to find the killer. I can’t get caught up in sentimental holdups. Brandon would certainly understand.”
“Aidan, you could overnight it, take twenty-four hours to give your son the option to see it first. You’re not here in an official capacity. Isn’t this one of those reasons why you left the FBI; so you could call your own shots?”
Aidan started to continue the argument, but what Megan had to say was true. And he owed it to his son to let him see what was in the envelope first. Yet he knew that time was critical, if the killers had made one attempt to get to Megan already today, then they must be hard pressed to eliminate her. What was in his hands could be a clue they needed to find out who was behind JT’s death.
Aidan ran his hand through his hair, tugging on it in frustration. He was torn between years of training and his personal needs. Megan felt for his struggle, but she was standing firm on what she felt was a moral and right thing to do.
“Aidan, you have to do what is right for Brandon. Please don’t worry about me. We can work with what we have already found and see where it takes us. I have a number for the courier service we use, they can pick it up within fifteen
minutes and get it on its way to Brandon.”
Turning the envelope over in his hand, Aidan could feel the weight and shape of a square item, similar to a cellphone, camera, or recording device. He knew his son would trust his judgment to do what he thought was right, but somehow he felt as if whatever he decided to do would affect his future relationship with Megan. She intrigued him, and he knew that he wanted to establish at the very least, a close friendship with her.
“Okay, I agree with you, but how about a compromise … let me call Brandon and find out what he wants to do. If he agrees to let me open it without his being right here, will that be acceptable to you?”
Megan didn’t even hesitate. It was a perfect solution.
“Go ahead and make the call. We can put Brandon on speakerphone, and you can read and describe what we have here. But we don’t open it until we speak to your son.”
“Agreed. And, Megan, thank you”
“For…?”
“Making me stop and think about people before facts. Most of the time I don’t. That’s twice since we’ve met that you’ve made me think about how I treat other people while I’m on the case. I think you may be good for me in more ways than finding a killer.”
Megan looked at Aidan in surprise, blushing a bit at the intense look on his face and the tone of his voice. The look brought back hazy memories of looks her husband had given her, and she found she rather liked it. Smiling warmly back at him, Megan pushed Aidan’s phone across the table to him and motioned for him to call his son.
Picking up the phone, Aidan broke eye contact and dialed his son’s cellphone number. After the allotted four rings, the call went to voice mail. Leaving a message for Brandon to call back as soon as he got the message, Aidan ended the call and looked back at Megan.
Murder For Neptune's Trident...A Citrus Beach Mystery (Citrus Beach Mysteries Book 1) Page 12
