MISTAKEN IDENTITY

 

By:  Kenda

 

*This story was inspired by a Current Case Assignment in the June, 1994 issue of the letterzine, Brothers, Partners, and Friends.   

    

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

     Cecilia Simon was seated at her kitchen table, engrossed in colorful brochures that had just arrived in that morning's mail from an Alaskan cruise line.

 

      "This looks even better than it sounded," the woman said as she studied the pictures of glaciers, wildlife, and Eskimo villages the brochure contained.

 

     The sound of the doorbell chiming pulled Cecilia away from her vacation plans.  She walked into the living room and opened the door just a crack, seeing the familiar back of an immaculately dressed blond man.

 

     With a warm smile, Cecilia opened the door widely.   "Did you forget your key, hon--"

 

     Cecilia's sentence trailed off when the man turned around. 

 

     "Oh...excuse me.  I thought you were someone else," she apologized.  "May I help you?"

 

     "Mom?"  The handsome blond man questioned.

 

     "I'm afraid you have me confused with someone else," Cecilia corrected as an uncomfortable feeling began to overtake her.

 

     "This is 794 Bay Street, isn't it?" 

 

     "Well...yes, yes it is."

 

     "And you are Cecilia Simon, aren't you?"

 

     Cecilia looked up at the man with confusion.  "Yes, I am, but--"

 

     "Then you're my mother."

 

     "I'm your who?" 

 

     "My mother."

 

     "Young man, I can assure you I am not your mother.  I'm sorry that you seem to have me mixed up with someone else, but..."

 

     The man grabbed onto the big oak door, preventing Cecilia from closing it in his face.

 

     "Let go of the door!"  The frightened woman shouted.

 

     "Please...please, I'm not going to hurt you.  I could never hurt you.  You're my mother."

 

     Cecilia's fright turned to anger.  "I already told you I am not your mother.  Now look here, I don't know what you're trying to pull, but I want you to leave right now or I'll call the police."

 

Tears welled up in the man's eyes. "No...no, don't call the police.  I've been trying to contact you for so long.  Please don't call the police."

 

     Cecilia tried to wrench the door from the disturbed man's grasp.  "I'm about two seconds away from screaming bloody murder and summoning the entire neighborhood, so you'd better go."

 

     "But, Mom, don't you know who I am?"

 

     "I already told you, I'm not your mother."

 

     "Yes, you are.   I'm your son A.J."

 

     Now Cecilia was more confused than ever.  "Look, young man, I don't know what kind of a joke you and my sons are trying to play on me, but you can tell them that I'm not finding it to be the least bit funny."

 

     "It's not a joke," the man insisted.  "Please.  Just look at this."

 

     Cecilia waited as the man fumbled in his pocket for his wallet.  He held it open so she could read the California driver's license that identified him as Andrew Jackson Simon.  In numbed shock she went on to read and confirm the accuracy of A.J.'s date of birth, height, weight, hair, and eye color.  The only thing different about it was the picture it contained.  The smiling face was that of this man, and not that of her son A.J. 

 

     She looked up into the man's face.  "What's going on here? Where did you get that?"

 

     "It's mine."

 

     "It might be yours, but that information is false."

 

     The man grew more agitated as he pleaded, "Mom...please, why won't you believe me?  I'm your son A.J."                 

 

     "I want you to leave now," Cecilia insisted.

 

     "No, please, just let me come in for a--"

 

     Cecilia gasped in fright as the stranger tried to force the door open wider.

 

     "I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry," he immediately apologized.  "I didn't mean to scare you.  I could never harm you.  You've got to believe that."

 

     "Then go."

 

     With reluctance, the man let his hand fall from the door.  "Okay, I'll go for now.  But I'll be back.  I have to talk to you, Mom.  I just have to."

 

     With that, the man turned from Cecilia's doorway.  It was then that she noticed a red Camaro parked in the driveway.  The man climbed in it, backed out onto the street, and after one last lingering look in Cecilia's direction, drove away.

 

     The shaken Cecilia watched until the car was out of sight.  She stepped back in her house, shutting and locking the door.  When she had calmed down somewhat she hurried to the phone and dialed a familiar number.

 

     On the second ring a voice on the other end answered with, "Simon and Simon Investigations."

 

     "Rick?"

 

     "Hi, Mom," came Rick Simon's cheerful greeting.

 

     "Rick, is everything okay there?"

 

     "Okay?"

 

     "Yes, with your brother.  Is he okay?"

 

     Rick's hesitation in answering clearly broadcast his confusion.  "Well...yeah.  Do you wanna talk to him?"

 

     "No, not right now.  I need to talk to you though."

 

     "All right."

 

     "Please don't let on to A.J. as to what we're discussing."

 

     Rick looked over at his preoccupied brother, who was busy typing up a report on their office computer.

 

     "Okay," he acknowledged to his mother.  "But what are we discussing?"

 

     "I just had a rather disturbing incident occur here at the house."

 

     “What?”

 

     "A man...well a man who looked very much like A.J. was just here and...this is going to sound rather strange I guess..."

 

     "Go ahead," Rick urged.

 

     "Well, he said he was A.J., Rick.  He kept insisting I was his mother.  He even showed me a driver's license that said he was Andrew Jackson Simon."

 

     "I see.  Well maybe I'd better come over and take a look at the spark plugs.  It sounds like that's the problem," Rick bluffed.

 

     "Yes...that would be a very good idea.  I'd be lying to you if I didn't say I'm a little shaken up over what just happened."

 

     "I'm sure you are," Rick agreed.  "I'll leave the office now.  I'll see you in a few minutes."

 

     "Okay, honey.  Thank you.  Bye."

 

     "Bye, Mom."

 

     Rick hung up the phone. He walked over to the coat rack to retrieve his jacket. 

 

     A.J. looked up from the computer.  "What'd Mom want?"

 

     "Oh, she's having a problem getting her car started.  I'm going over there and take a look at it.  I'll be back in a little while."

 

     "You need a hand?"

 

     "No.  No, you go ahead and finish what you're workin' on."

 

     "Are you sure?"

 

     "Yeah, I'm sure.  I'll stop somewhere on my way back and pick us up something for lunch." 

 

     A.J. was already hard at work once again. He acknowledged his brother with a distracted, "Fine."

        

 

______________________

 

 

     Over coffee, Cecilia relayed to her eldest what had occurred on her front step less than an hour earlier.

 

     "Could you give Abby a description of the guy if you had to?"  Rick asked.

 

     "Yes, I'm sure I could.  He was built almost exactly like A.J., though a bit shorter and thinner.  Not nearly as broad through the chest and shoulders.  His hair was cut like A.J.'s, it was the same color, right down to a bit of graying at the temples.  His eyes were blue--"

 

     "Sounds like this guy is a dead ringer for A.J.," Rick commented.

 

     "From the back he was.  If you saw his face you'd know he wasn't A.J.   The scary thing is, Rick, he had a suit and tie on that I'm sure are twins to ones A.J. owns."

 

     "You're certain about that?"

 

     "Yes.  Positive."

 

     "And he was drivin' a red Camaro?"

 

     "Yes."

 

     "I don't know, Mom.  This is weird."

 

     "What do you think we should do?"

 

     "I don't know what we can do for the time being except keep our eyes open.  I want you to keep every door and window in this house locked at all times, do you understand me?"

 

     "Yes."

 

     "In the meantime, I'm gonna stop by the station and talk to Abby.  There's not much she can do at this point, but it might be wise to let her know there seems to be some guy goin' around San Diego claimin' to be A.J.  If he comes by here again, don't open the door for him, but see if you can get the license number on the car."

 

     "Okay," Cecilia nodded.  "Do you think we should tell A.J.?"

 

     "Yeah, I think we'd better.  Especially since we don't know what this guy is up to.  I'll talk to him when I get back to the office."

 

     "Okay.  Tell him not to worry about it though.  Maybe it was just some freak thing that won't happen again."

 

     "Maybe.  Whatever's goin' on, I know A.J.’s not gonna like the fact that the guy came here and upset you any more than I like that fact."

 

     "Well, no harm was done, so that's all that matters," Cecilia bravely stated.  "Something wasn't right with him though.  He started crying when I told him I wasn't his mother."

 

     "Crying?" 

 

     "Yes.  Tears just began running down his face.  He practically...begged me to believe him.  To believe that he was my son.  It seemed very important to him."

 

     "This whole thing is strange," Rick commented more to himself than to his mother.  Once again he firmly cautioned her, "You be careful.  I don't want you goin' out at night and then comin' back to this house alone.  If you have to go somewhere you call me or A.J. and we'll take--"

 

     "Rick--" Cecilia began to protest with exasperation.

 

     "Mom, I'm serious here.  Until we know what this guy is up to, or if he's gonna show up again, you need to be extra careful.  Please."

 

     "Okay," Cecilia reluctantly agreed.  "If I have an evening engagement I'll let one of you boys know."

 

     Rick stood up from the kitchen table, leaning over to kiss his mother on the cheek.  "Thanks."

 

     Cecilia walked her son to the door.  "Thank you for coming by, sweetheart."

 

     "No problem, Mom.  And lock the--"

 

     "Door behind you.  I know," Cecilia smiled.

 

     Rick didn't head for his truck until he heard the satisfying sound of the dead bolt lock being thrown into place on the big oak door.

 

 

______________________

 

 

     At six that evening Cecilia's doorbell rang once again.  She hit the mute button on the television's remote control, silencing the local news broadcast.

 

     "Who is it?" Cecilia called through the closed door.

 

"It's A.J., Mom,"  Cecilia heard.  "Your real son A.J."

 

     Cecilia couldn't help but chuckle as she opened the door to admit her youngest.  She gave him a hug, hanging on a little longer than usual.

 

     Still holding his mother in his arms, A.J. looked down asking, "Are you okay?"

 

     "Yes, A.J., I'm fine."

 

     The two moved into the living room, Cecilia telling her son to seat himself on the sofa while she shut off the T.V.

 

     At A.J.'s urging Cecilia repeated the story she had told Rick earlier in the day.

 

     "I hope you're not angry with me, honey, for talking to your brother about this incident this morning.  I was just...hoping there'd be some simple explanation and that we wouldn't have to worry you with it."

 

     A.J. shook his head.  "No, Mom, I'm not angry.  Not at you anyway.  I'm not too happy with the jerk who scared you, however."

 

     "Do you have any ideas as to who he might be?" 

 

     A.J. ran his hands through his thick hair in frustration.  "No.  Not a clue.  Rick and I went and talked to Abby about it.  She's going to give you a call later this evening.  She wants to hear what you have to say about what happened."

 

     "Good.  I'd like to talk to her about it," Cecilia confirmed.  "I wish you boys had some leads as to who this person might be."

 

     "If we're lucky, we'll have some soon.  Abby's running some checks for us to see if anyone we've helped send to prison has been recently paroled.  Rick and I went through some old files at work this afternoon, hoping that something would click with one of us.  Unfortunately, neither one of us came up with anything.  I've got a stack of files in my car to look through at home tonight.  Rick's got some as well. He's going to do the same thing.  Maybe one of us will come up with something yet."

 

     Cecilia gave an involuntary shudder.  "I certainly hope this doesn't turn out to be another Jeremiah Quint incident."

 

     A.J. reached over and pulled his mother to his chest, hugging her tightly.  "I hope not either, Mom.  I hope not either."

 

     A.J. got up to leave shortly after that.  Cecilia saw her son to the door, accepting his kiss on the cheek and nodding her head in acknowledgment of his instruction to, "Call me if you need me for any reason."

 

     A.J. turned around as Cecilia was in the process of closing the door.

 

     "Make sure you keep the door--"

 

     "Locked," Cecilia finished for her son with a smile.

 

     A.J. gave his mother a sheepish grin.  "I don't suppose

I have to remind you to set the--"

 

     "Home security system?"  Cecilia again finished her

son's sentence.

 

     With a smile, A.J. nodded.  "Right."

 

     "No, dear, you don't need to remind me.  I set it every evening when I'm in the house to stay."

 

     A.J. was once again glad that he and Rick had purchased and installed the alarm system for their mother several weeks after she had been raped.  It was an investment that went a long way in giving the blond man peace of mind in situations just like this.

 

     "It wouldn't hurt you to keep it set during the day, too.  At least until we figure out what's going on."

 

     "I'll do that," Cecilia promised her concerned son.  "And you be careful too, A.J."

     "I will be," A.J. said as he turned and headed for his car.

 

______________________

 

 

     At nine o'clock that evening Cecilia's phone rang.  She had already talked to Abby, so fully expected this to be one her sons calling to check up on her.

 

     "Hello?" 

 

     "Mom?"

 

     Cecilia hesitated for just a moment before saying with trepidation, "Yes."

 

     "Mom, it's A.J."

 

     Cecilia knew immediately that it wasn't A.J.  She could tell the man was trying to copy the tonal quality of her youngest son’s voice, but trying was all he was doing.  The pitch was too high, and behind the pitch Cecilia could sense nervous agitation.

 

     "What do you want?"

 

     "Please, Mom...I have to talk to you.  I have to talk to you face to face.  Can we meet somewhere?  Can I come over to the--"

 

     "No.  Absolutely not.  You may not come over here," Cecilia stated firmly.  She was surprised at the strength and determination in her voice.  She was keeping her fear well hidden, though her hands were trembling uncontrollably.

 

     "Please...please just tell me what I've done to upset you like this.  Please, Mom."

 

     "I don't want you calling here any more.  I've talked to the police.  They're looking for you." 

 

     "But why?  I haven't done anything wrong," the man whined. 

 

     It sounded to Cecilia as if he was crying again. 

 

     "Please, Mom...please don't do this to me.  I want to see you.  I want to be your son."

 

     "But that's the problem, isn't it?  You're not my son," Cecilia informed her caller.

 

     Upon hearing those words of rejection, the man's tone bordered on hysteria.  "But I am!"  He screamed through his tears.  "I am your son!  I'm A.J.!  Andrew Jackson Simon!  I am!"

 

     As the man went on wailing, insisting that he was A.J. Simon, Cecilia hung up the phone. 

 

     She sat for a few minutes, willing her limbs to stop trembling.  When her hands had steadied she picked up the phone again, relieved that her caller had broken the connection. 

 

     Ten minutes later Cecilia ended her conversation with Abby.  The police lieutenant noted all Cecilia relayed to her, then promised her friend a squad car would make frequent passes by the large house on Bay Street throughout the night.

 

     Cecilia then debated whether or not to call Rick or A.J.  She finally decided not to, feeling relatively secure with her alarm system set and the house locked up tightly.

 

     I hate to call either one of them.  This will just cause more worry and concern.  I'll go to the office in the morning and tell them about it.

 

     It was a long time before Cecilia Simon fell asleep that night.  When she did, it was with almost every light in the house left on.

 

 

______________________

 

 

     The next morning in the Simon and Simon office Cecilia received a stern scolding from both her sons for not having contacted them after her telephone call from the mystery man the previous evening.

 

     Cecilia had been expecting her sons' admonishments so took them in stride.  She sat in the chair across from A.J.'s desk, listening as her sons debated back and forth over the man's identity.

 

     "What I can't figure out is why has he only contacted, Mom?” Rick asked.  “Why not me for instance?" 

 

     " 'Cause Mom's better looking than you," A.J. quipped.

 

     Rick gave his brother a pained look.  "This isn't funny.  I don't like the fact that this guy's harassing our mother--"

 

     "I don't like that fact either," A.J. quietly interrupted.

 

     Rick waved a hand in apology for snapping at his brother.  "I know you don't.  I sure wish we had some kinda clues as to who he is."

 

     "You don't have any ideas?"  Cecilia asked.

 

     A.J. shook his head.  "I was up until midnight going through old case files and came up with nothing."

 

     "Same here," Rick said.

 

     "What about Abby?  Did she come up with anything?"  

 

     Rick answered his mother with, "Nah, nothin.’  Nobody that might even remotely harbor a vendetta against us has been released from prison recently."

 

     "We just keep running into dead ends," A.J. stated with defeat.

 

     "Well, don't worry about it," Cecilia attempted to soothe with more calmness than she was feeling.  "Something will turn up."

 

     "It'd better," A.J. said firmly.  "I don't want somebody getting hurt before it does."

 

     The three Simons fell silent then, A.J.'s grim words casting an ominous feeling over the room.

 

     When someone spoke again it was Cecilia asking, "What are we going to do now?"

 

     "We aren't going to do anything," A.J. emphasized pointedly.  "Rick and I are going to stake out the house."

A.J. turned to his brother.  "Unless you have a better idea."

 

     Rick shook his head.  "No.  A stake out is what I was thinkin' too."

 

     A.J. reached in the pocket of his pants, pulling out a quarter.  "Okay.  Heads says I stay in Mom's house and you stay in the car, tails says the opposite."

 

     A.J. flipped the coin in the air.  Before it fell back into his open palm, Rick reached out and snared it in mid-flight.

 

     "Not this time," he negated.

 

     "What do you mean?"  A.J. asked.

 

     "I mean this time I'm stayin' in the house and you get the car."

 

     "Hey!” A.J. protested.  What's the big idea?" 

 

     "Look, A.J., if this guy is tryin' to get at you through Mom, I think it would be better if you stay out in the car and watch the house.  If by some chance he gets in Mom's house then all he'll find is me."

 

     A.J. opened his mouth to protest, a protest that was halted by his mother before it began.

 

     "I think Rick's right, honey."

 

     "For the first time in his entire life," A.J. muttered.

 

     "Well now, that's true," Cecilia agreed.

 

     Rick shook his head. "Would you two please knock it off."

 

     "Okay, cowboy, what's the plan?"  Cecilia asked.

 

     "I'll walk down the street to the mall when A.J. and I get off work at five.  You pick me up there, Mom.  I'll be waiting inside Sears by that side entrance they have that faces west.  I'll get in the car, hunker down in the back seat, then you drive us to your place.  A.J.'ll be behind us to make sure no one follows you.  When we get to your place park the car in the garage, shut the garage door and go in the house.  I'll go out the back door, and you can let me into the kitchen through the patio doors."

 

     Seeing in his mind's eye the way the back of his mother's garage faced her backyard and a large row of privacy hedges, as did her kitchen patio doors, A.J. nodded in agreement.  "Sounds like a good plan."

 

     "You can get a car from Carlos and come back after dark and watch Mom's house," Rick went on to inform his brother. “I’ll call Carlos after Mom leaves and make the arrangements.”

 

     All three Simons agreed to Rick's plan.  Cecilia was soon saying goodbye, telling her sons she'd better stock up on groceries if Rick was going to be her overnight house guest for a few days.

 

     A.J. chuckled at Cecilia's remark, while Rick warned their mother to be cautious in her day's travels.

 

______________________

 

 

     For the next four nights Rick stayed at his mother's house while A.J. alternated between cruising her neighborhood after dark, and parking unobtrusively in a willing neighbor's driveway across the street.  The Simons varied their routine, with Cecilia picking Rick up at various busy locations around San Diego, while A.J. borrowed a different car every evening from Carlos so as not to be spotted in the red Camaro.

 

     All the careful planning didn't bring the desired results, however.  All was quiet at Cecilia Simon's home throughout the next four days and nights.  On the fifth night the Simons agreed that Rick might as well sleep on his boat at the marina, and A.J. might as well get a good night's sleep in his own bed, too.

 

     At nine o'clock that evening Cecilia's phone rang.

 

     "Hello?"

 

     "Mom?"

 

     Cecilia's heart began to race and her throat closed up with fear, making it impossible to answer the stranger on the other end.

 

     "Mom?  Mom...are you there?"  Came the frantic query.

 

     Cecilia swallowed hard and took a deep breath.  She willed her hands to stop trembling, saying quietly, "I've told you before, I'm not your mother."

 

     "Please, Mom, I have to talk to you.  Please just let me meet you somewhere and talk to--"

 

     Before the entreaties could go on any longer Cecilia hung up the phone.  She immediately picked it back up to dial Rick, only to find out the person on the other end hadn't broken the connection.

 

     "Mom?  Mom, are you there?"

 

     Without answering, Cecilia hung up the phone again.  This time she let a full minute pass before picking it up again.

 

     "Mom?  Mom, please don't hang up on me.  Listen to me, please.  Mom--"

 

     Again Cecilia replaced the phone in its cradle.  This time she left it there, getting up to check the doors only to find them firmly bolted, and the security system on as she knew she would.

 

     Cecilia was both frightened and angry.  Frightened by the man who seemed to be watching her every move, and angry over the fact that he was doing so.  And now even angrier that he was tying up her phone line and making her a prisoner in her own home.

 

     Cecilia nervously paced the downstairs of her home.  Time seemed to drag, ten minutes seemed like two hours to the frightened woman.  When she had waited as long as her nerves would allow, she cautiously picked up the phone again.

 

     Cecilia breathed a sigh of relief when all she heard on the other end was a dial tone.  She quickly dialed Rick's number.  Just when she thought there was no one home, she heard her son's, "Hello?"

 

     "Rick, he just called."

 

     "Mom, slow down.  Who just called?"

 

     "That man.  The one who says he's A.J."

 

     Cecilia heard Rick's muttered, "Damn," then he told her, "I'll be right there.  You got me outta the shower so just let me get dried off and get some clothes on.  Did you call A.J.?"

 

     "No."

 

     "Call him.  He'll make it there faster than I will."

 

     "Okay."

 

     "Is everything locked up?"

 

     "Yes," Cecilia replied.

 

     "Good.  Just sit tight.  I'll be there as soon as I can be."

 

     "All right.  Be careful."

 

     "I will, Mom.  Bye."

 

     "Bye."

 

     Cecilia hung up the phone, then dialed her youngest son as Rick had requested of her.

 

______________________

 

 

     A half hour later the Simon family was sitting in Cecilia's living room, her sons discussing the phone call she had received an hour earlier. 

 

     "The guy's seen every move we've made for the last four days,"  Rick said with disgust.

 

     "But how?"  A.J. wondered.  "I never saw anyone following Mom. You never saw anyone. We were more than careful.  I never used the same car. Mom picked you up in four different locations. We--"

 

     "I don't know how," Rick dismissed.  "And I know we were careful.  I'm not blamin' either of us for this.  Somehow he slipped through on us.  And you know as well as I do how he did that."

 

     A.J. nodded grimly.

 

     Cecilia looked from one son to the other, awaiting an explanation.  When none was forthcoming, she asked, "How?  What do you mean by that, Rick?"

 

     A.J. answered his mother.  "It means he's watching us all the time.  He knows our every move.  Not just yours, Mom, like we first suspected, but mine and Rick's too.  That's the only possible way he could have known what we were doing.  He didn't call here for the past four nights, but suddenly tonight he calls.  He knew you were alone tonight.  He knew Rick wasn't here, and he knew I wasn't parked across the street."

 

     Cecilia shuddered at the thought that someone - some deranged stranger - was watching her and her sons that closely.

 

     "What are we going to do now?"  Cecilia asked.

 

     "First of all, you're not stayin' in this house alone at night until we catch this guy," Rick said firmly.  With a smile he asked, "Did you put my favorite pillow away in the closet this morning?"

 

     Cecilia managed to smile back.  "I'll get it out."

 

     "And I'll take another thermos of your coffee and some of those cookies you baked yesterday if Rick didn't eat them all," A.J. said.

 

     "No, he didn't.  I hid some," Cecilia