We Learn the Truth...Sort of

"James Monroe, though I assume you already suspected that." said the man in the bathrobe.
"H-Hi," I managed to stammer. "I'm Jen and this is Amy, where did you get that card from?"
"I found it in my mailbox. Look, if you found me then I assume you've done some research, but if you want to know what really happened to Albert come inside. It's not safe out here."
Obviously James Monroe hadn't quite gotten over his days as a convicted terrorist. Though acquitted two years after he entered, the time Monroe spent in prison seemed to make him pretty paranoid.
"Do you get these cards often, Mr. Monroe?" I asked meekly.
"Please, call me Jim. I get one every year about this time. It's been a few years since that old loon messed up and dropped one somewhere else though." Jim noticed our blank stares and continued to explain himself.
"You see, Albert Lee didn't die, he didn't even disappear necessarily. He lives in a cabin about thirty miles away. After the fire..." Again, the blank stares caught him off guard. "You guys didn't find out about the fire! Well, maybe I overestimated your investigative skills. There was a fire at Albert's house. Some say it was foul play on the part of the community. They didn't like him, thought he was a communist you see. And on the account that those losers at the fire department took a good thirty minutes to get to his house only a few blocks away-well it starts rumors. But Albert was smart. He got out before the fire got bad. After that he knew that it was time to flee."
"But who started the fire? What do the cards have to do with anything?" Amy interjected.
"Whoa, slow down little lady. I'm still not sure who started the fire. But my guess is the government, trying to smoke out the reds any way they can, ya dig? As for the cards, good ol' Al sends me one every year letting me know he needs supplies. He must've dropped one on his way."