What You See
| What You See | |
| Jesse Watson Mysteries [1] | |
| Ann Mullen | |
| Afton Ridge Pub. (2003) | |
| Rating: | *** |
| Tags: | Mystery |
What You See - The first in the series, young Helen Carrolton leaves home alone to visit a friend in the majestic mountains of Charlottesville, Virginia. She never makes it.
That's where it all begins for Jesse Watson. At thirty-one, suffering from suburban monotony, an unfulfilling job and a nonexistent love-life, tired and confused, she heads for those same peaceful, quiet mountains to reflect and renew her life. Her intentions are to settle down and simplify.
All that changes the day she goes to work for private investigator, Billy Blackhawk, a Cherokee Indian who's hired to find the missing Helen. Jesse's dreams of a quiet country life surrounded by beautiful mountain scenery is quickly shattered as she becomes embroiled in danger, murder and mayhem facing the wrath of a disturbed family.
Soon it becomes a race for time, a race for her life and an astonishing destiny Jesse could never have anticipated, even in her wildest dreams!
by
Ann
Mullen
Copyright © 2003 by Ann Mullen
ISBN 13: 978-0-9725327-1-6
This book is a work of fiction. Any characters
portrayed, living or dead are imaginary. Any resemblance to actual persons is
completely coincidental. Any places, business establishments, locales, events,
or incidents in this book are the product of the author’s imagination, or used
fictitiously.
ALL
RIGHTS RESERVED
This book, or parts
thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Once
in a while you come across something that really catches your eye. But beware,
what you see is not always what you get, and what you get is not always what
you want. My mother taught me that when I was a kid. Bless her heart, to this
day she has a saying that applies to everything under the stars. As a
matter-of-fact, she comes up with some stuff that just baffles my mind. It
makes you wonder if parents sit around all day and think up stuff just to confuse
you. Don’t they have other things to do?
I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning.
My name’s Jessica Watson. My friends call me Jesse. My childhood was like any
normal childhood, with the exception of being fortunate enough to have the same
two parents. Nowadays, not many kids grow up with a mom and a dad, especially
ones that are happy and create a good home life. I’m not saying everything was
perfect, but it was about as good as it gets. I have an older brother, Jack,
and a younger sister, Claire. Jack’s a lawyer and Claire’s married, with two
kids, a house, and a new Mercedes. That says it all. They grew up and met all
the expectations of our parents, while I just grew up. I think I did, however,
sometimes I wonder. I’m thirty-one years old and have never been married. I’ve
done my share of dating, but my luck with men is like my luck with
jobs—pitiful. The right job hasn’t come along and Mr. Right hasn’t shown
himself. I haven’t given up; I’ve just quit looking.
Like my brother and sister, I was born and raised in
Newport News
,
Virginia
. We call it Tidewater because it’s part of several cities
located on a small peninsula on the east coast that boast of great fishing and
hunting. You either made a living doing one or the other, or you worked in the
shipyard where boats are overhauled. I don’t think any of those challenging
careers alone was the lifeline of our city. We also have Langley Air Force
Base,
Fort
Eustis
,
Fort
Monroe
,
Camp
Peary
,
and the Norfolk Naval Base, where my dad, Mack was last stationed until he
retired a year ago. Upon his retirement, he decided it was time to leave what
was now an overgrown city, and move to a quiet place a little less populated.
My mom, Minnie, was ready to do anything he wanted.
Somewhere along the way, Mom and Dad finally found the place
they wanted to live. They bought a house in the mountains located in a little
town called Stanardsville, Virginia, thirty miles the other side of
Charlottesville. I never thought they’d actually pack up and leave until I got
the call from them saying they had found that special place they were looking
for and wanted me to go with them to see it.
I found it hard to accept the fact that the home we had all
shared was going to be sold and there would be nothing left, except the
memories. Claire and her family lived in
Washington
,
D.C.
, Jack lived in
Fairfax
, and now, Mom and Dad would be
living in a little cabin in the woods, leaving me to be the only one left in
our hometown. It made me feel so alone. I tried to comfort myself by the
knowledge that at least we all lived within a few hours of each other. I could
see this was going to be a major adjustment.
Saturday, while I was sitting around the house indulging
myself in self-pity and trying to get my laundry done, the phone rang.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hi, honey. This is your mom. I just wanted to see if next
weekend would be a good time for you to go with us to see the house. We’re
planning to stay overnight. Oh, I just know you’re going to love it. As I’ve
said before, if you want to, you could move in with us. There’s plenty of
room.”
How many times is she going to tell me that? I thought, but
didn’t say. Instead, all I said was, “Sure, next weekend will be fine. When are
you leaving?”
“We’ll be leaving on Friday. Why don’t you come over after
work and we can leave right after you get here?”
“I’ll be there,” I said and continued to listen as she went
on and on about the house, the mountains, and how much I was going to love it.
“Okay, Mom, I’ll see you Friday.”
I hung up the phone and went back to the task at
hand—laundry. I hated doing laundry. I really hated doing laundry when I was
depressed.
Friday came all too soon and the next thing I knew, we were
on our way. The closer we got to our destination, the more I understood how my
folks felt. I had forgotten how beautiful the mountains of
Virginia
are. Dad had taken us camping on the
Skyline Drive
several times when we were kids,
until Mom had finally had enough of tents and the great outdoors... putting an
end to our frolicking in the woods.
The weekend turned out to be very interesting. Mom was right.
I loved the house. It wasn’t as big as the one in Tidewater, but it wasn’t the
little cabin in the woods I had expected. It was just like one of the country
homes you see in magazines. The structure was a
Cape Cod
design featuring a wraparound porch, and I couldn’t believe
how far off the ground the house stood.
“I guess you don’t have to worry about floods, huh?” I asked.
“Exactly,” Dad replied. “That was the whole purpose.”
The minute I stepped onto the front porch, a swarm of flying
insects attacked me. “What in the world was that?” I screamed as I swatted at
the flying pests. “Oh, yuck... beetles.”
“They’re not beetles, they’re ladybugs. They won’t hurt you.
Just knock them off,” Mom replied.
Dad went on to explain, “It seems some years ago, the Dept.
of Agriculture released millions of them to eat the Gypsy Moths that were
killing off the Oak trees. As many as there are of them, it must be working.”
“I hope so. However, I think they have reproduced to the
point where you’ll have to wear bee’s netting to be able to be outside without
having them land in your face, hair and who knows where else.” This was just
too much. I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Let’s go inside,” I said as I
listened to them fly into the outside walls. “Do you have to put up with this
all the time?”
Mom looked at me like I was such a child. Imagine this
attitude coming from a woman who couldn’t stand camping, sleeping on the
ground, cooking meals over an open fire, and dealing with insects and animals
that you come across only while you’re in the woods. Yet, she was born and
raised in
North Carolina
, out in the country, and was the
daughter of a tobacco farmer—a long line of tobacco farmers. We won’t go there.
There’re some things in my past that I don’t want to get into. I will tell you
that my grandfather was a major player as a Tobacco Lord. He paid his people
twenty-five cents an hour, the going rate at the time, and treated them like
they were dirt. They were his niggers and weren’t worth a dime. I still get mad
every time I remember hearing him say stuff like that. He’s been dead for
twelve years now, the unfortunate victim of something he ate—his shotgun. What
does that tell you?
“Mr. James, the previous owner, said they only get bad like
this in the early spring and late fall. By the way, Mr. James is a very
interesting man,” Mom said as I knocked off the remaining ladybugs and went
inside the house.
The inside was just as warm and cozy feeling as the outside.
Fortunately, I didn’t see any of those nasty creatures lurking around. The
living room had shiny hardwood floors that led into a kitchen and dining room,
which was one big open area with a pass-through bar separating the living room
from the kitchen. Off to the right of the dining area was a utility room. In
between the living area and master bedroom to the left was a spare bath. The
master bedroom had a private bathroom, walk-in closet and the biggest floor
space for a bedroom that I’ve ever seen, except, maybe in the movies. I was
impressed. You could almost fit my two-bedroom duplex apartment into this room.
It had a fireplace just like the one in the living room.
It was constructed with some of the many mountain rocks I saw
lying all over the place outside. Dad claims this land was a riverbed at one
time. You could dig forever and still come up with nothing but rocks. That must
be why piles and piles of rocks surround all the flowerbeds. I do notice some
things. It was early spring. You couldn’t miss all the flowers beginning to
bloom.
As Mom was leading me upstairs to show me the rest of the
house, she went into her usual mode of explaining everything in great detail.
“As I was saying, the previous owner, Mr. Tobias James, Jr. was the son of Mr.
Tobias James, Sr. and Anna James. Together all three of them built this house
when Tobias, Jr. was a teenager. When Tobias, Sr. and Anna eventually passed
away, Toby and his wife, Carol, who was expecting their first child, moved into
the house. They lived happily ever after until a couple of years ago. It seems
his wife couldn’t live out here in the middle of nowhere any longer and packed
up the three kids they had by then and left. I’m sure there’s probably more to
it, but that’s all he said. Says he’s moving to
Florida
. Anyway, here we are!”
“It’s a fine place to be,” I said as I was checking out the
rooms and making conversation. There were two large bedrooms and a full
bathroom in between, with a hallway big enough to set up a table and eat
dinner. This wasn’t bad at all. If you were going to live in the mountains,
this would be the perfect house.
“Minnie,” I said, which is what I called Mom sometimes when I
wanted to get one of those happy, yet confused looks on her face. “I think you
and Dad will be very happy here. It’s lovely. Now show me the kitchen. I’m
starved and I know you must have something to eat, because I saw a cooler in
the back of the minivan. By the way, are we going to sleep here tonight?”
“Yes,” she said with a smile. “We brought sleeping bags.”
I’ve been camping. I can handle this.
Saturday
morning I awoke
to
the glorious smell of coffee, a stiff neck, and something crawling on my arm.
“Mom, I thought you said these things wouldn’t come in the
house!” I screamed as I brushed the creature from my arm and started to crawl
out of the bag. I looked down and saw a dozen more. “Oh, no,” I said to myself.
Mom walked into the living room and handed me a cup of
coffee.
“For someone as old as you are, you sure can act like such a
baby. Let’s have our coffee on the porch. Your dad’s sitting out in the swing.”
As we walked onto the porch, I expected to be attacked again
by some of those things that seemed to have taken a liking to me, but instead,
I was treated to a cool spring breeze and the sweet smell of flowers. I sat
down on the steps and looked up at the sky.
“What’s that sound? Is that water running I hear?’’ I asked.
“Yes,” Dad replied. “That’s the
South River
you hear. Across the road, on the
front part of our property is a stream. After we finish our coffee we’ll walk
over and check it out, and then I’ll take you on a tour of the rest of the
property.”
Ten acres is a lot of property to check out. By the time we
got back to the house I was exhausted, not to mention the creepy feeling I had
that I might be taking a tick or some other creature back to Tidewater with me.
Since none of us was big on breakfast we had an early lunch
of sandwiches and iced tea. As we sat on top of our sleeping bags and ate, I
watched the two of them chat and carry on like two young lovers. I sure was
going to miss not seeing them all the time. They’ve always been so happy
together and so much fun to be around.
Once the kitchen was cleaned and our gear packed, we headed
back home. For most of the trip they talked about what they were going to do
with all their extra furniture—store it or give it away.
How were they going to decorate the new house? Somewhere in
the middle of the conversation, I dozed off and didn’t wake again until we were
pulling into the driveway.
“Have a nice rest, dear?” Mom asked. “All that walking must
have really worn you out. Mack, isn’t that Claire’s car? What’s she doing here?
She knew we were going to be gone, and she didn’t know what time we’d be back.
Something must be wrong. She never comes for a visit without calling first.”
Mom jumped out of the minivan and ran to the house in search
of Claire as Dad and I crawled out and began the task of unloading our things.
“Let me put my bag in my car and I’ll help with the rest,” I
told Dad, knowing full well that Mom was going to be tied up listening to
whatever exciting things Claire would have to say. Claire always had something
wonderful going on. I could almost imagine it word for word: “I’ve been
selected as the new President of the
PTA
;
the kids are perfect as always; Carl got a promotion and a big, fat raise;
we’re buying an even bigger house; and we’re going to have another baby. Isn’t
it all wonderful?”
My
sister doesn’t gloat, but she has a way of saying things that makes me want to
crawl under a table and hide. She has it all, and I don’t have squat. Am I
jealous? Maybe just a little. Why do some people get it all and some never get
anything? My green-eyed dragon reared its jealous head.