Ashes to Ashes Page 2

  Julia wasn’t a career woman that worked for the esteem of having a successful career. The Parker family needed the two incomes to make ends meet. This didn’t stop her taking pride in her work though, everyday she would work hard until she was satisfied the job was done right.

  It was tough to make a living in Avalon; for half the citizens anyway. It was clearly a town divided by the ‘haves’ and the ‘have nots’. The wealthy residents owned the place and allowed the poorer subjects to serve them in the lesser jobs; shop assistants, council workers, secretaries and nannies.

  Jasmine, and all the other ‘have nots’, had always known their place in society. It was clear from kindergarten that some people were destined for greater things, while the others would be allowed to stand by and watch. She remembered her first day of pre-school well, when Billy Simpson had told her to move her backpack from its hanger because his was ‘designer’, and ‘should not have to sit on the ground with the other rubbish’. When she didn’t move fast enough, he had unceremoniously dropped it onto the ground. Her mother had spent all evening trying to get the backpack to dry after the juice had opened and spilt upon impact.

  High school had been even worse. Mostly the ‘have nots’ would stay under the radar, trying to get enough good grades to win a scholarship to a good university, and therefore their ticket out of town. Usually the scholarships would end up going to the ‘have’ students as they had tutors and study groups to help with their grades.

  The irony that they didn’t need the scholarships was lost on the greater community.

  Jasmine was one of those students vying for a full scholarship. Instead of hanging out with her friends after school, she would go straight home and start her homework. She was determined she would get out of the town that held so many bad memories and above all she wanted to prove she was just as good as the ‘haves’.

  The scholarship came down to just two students, Jasmine and the police chief’s prodigy of a son, Michael Reiner. The selection committee chose Michael, not for grades, but because he was the town’s star footballer and sure to put Avalon on the map when he led the varsity football team to glory.

  So Jasmine settled for Avalon Community College. She remained living with her grandparents, who had taken her and Lucy in after the fire, and got a part-time job to pay for her studies. For three years, her life was a circle of study and work, most weeks for the full seven days.

  Lucy had been lucky. She had managed to secure a place at Rowan University in nearby Cliffton. She had been granted a partial scholarship and lived on campus for the duration of her studies. After graduation, she stayed in Cliffton and worked for Hayden Incorporated Pty Ltd – a multi-national exporting business owned by the prominent Avalon citizen Hamish Hayden. Jasmine was never sure how she was able to accomplish this but was happy for her sister nevertheless.

  Lucy hardly ever visited Avalon, not even to see her grandparents unless it was Christmas or Easter. She hated the place almost as much as Jasmine. Once you escape Avalon, you hardly ever look back.

  For all the other failings of Avalon, something they did really well was hold public records. They documented everything from births, deaths, divorces and even diseases. Everything was kept in a tidy room with hours of operation from nine to five.

  So there Jasmine was, entering the public library in the town she hadn’t yet managed to escape, with the letter in one hand and a notebook in the other. She was going to prove the letter wrong today so that her life could get back to normal.

  The library was not a popular place on a Saturday, unlike the shopping centres and parks. As Jasmine walked through the aisles of books, she hardly saw another human being. The public records’ room was empty save for the few flickering computer screens. She was surprised there were no dusty hand-written books or yellowed newspapers lying around. ‘Duh, everything is computerised these days,’ she reminded herself.

  Choosing the computer closest to the far wall, Jasmine typed ‘John Parker’ into the search engine. The cursor turned into an hourglass and seconds later, it declared that there were almost half a dozen matches. She scanned the headlines from the Avalon News.

  ‘John and Julia Parker Welcome New Arrival’

  ‘Miracle Drug Produced in Avalon; Thousands of Lives Saved’

  ‘Avalon Laboratories in Animal Cruelty Scandal’

  ‘Parker Asked to Stand Down Over Cruelty Claims’

  ‘Parker Family Lose Parents in Tragic Accident’

  Most of the hits were predictable; however, Jasmine was shocked to see reference to animal cruelty. She clicked into all the articles and printed them off in turn. This would definitely need some further reading.

  Next, she typed ‘Julia Parker’ into the search engine. Besides the same headlines that John Parker had produced, there were a few additional ones:

  ‘Mayor Reynolds Disappears after Assistant’s Death’

  ‘Have You Seen Mayor Reynolds?’

  ‘Two Years since Mayor Disappeared, Police no Further’

  ‘New Mayor Elected in Avalon. Houston’s our Man!’

  For the second time that day, Jasmine was shocked at what she was seeing. She didn’t recall anything about the mayor disappearing after the fire, but her memory was a little fuzzy about the few years afterwards. Mostly she recalled crying a lot.

  “Jazzy! What are you doing here?” Jasmine jumped and looked up to see Caleb Marshall standing in the doorway.

  She quickly minimised the screen. “I think the bigger question is what are you doing here, Caleb?”

  “Doin’ some research for a story I’m working on. Plus, you know how much I like librarians,” he winked and took a seat at one of the computers.

  “Yeah, the librarians, that’s why I’m here too.” She printed off the articles about Mayor Reynolds and quickly retrieved them from the printer. “I’ve gotta go, have fun researching.”

  Caleb watched her leave. He had always had a major crush on Jasmine. She was a petite brunette with the most gorgeous eyes he had ever seen. Yet he never got that ‘interested’ vibe from her so he’d never actually acted upon his feelings. She was smart too, much too

  smart for him he supposed. ‘One day,’ he vowed to himself.

  * * *

  Jasmine sat in her car outside the library flicking through the articles she had just printed. The ones about the mayor’s disappearance captured her interest the most. Mostly they were a variation of the same theme, Mayor Reynolds was missing and the police had no leads as to his whereabouts. It was only the one article that had some different information.

  ‘Mayor Reynolds Disappears after Assistant’s Death,’

  by Scott O’Hara.

  ‘Reigning Mayor of Avalon, Winston Reynolds went missing last night after purchasing fuel at the BP service station at approximately 9:53pm. He was believed to have been travelling south on the M1 highway.

  ‘According to the eyewitness, Mr Bruce Flanders, he was said to have been acting ‘nervously’ and had paid for the fuel with cash before turning onto the highway.

  “He didn’t say anything to me, just paid for the fuel and left. I thought it was weird; normally people look around for a bit, see if any of the chocolate bars or newspapers takes their fancy. Not him, he just paid and left. You know how you get the feeling when something’s a bit dodgy? That’s how I felt about him. If I didn’t know he was the mayor and all, I would have said he was a few sandwiches short of a picnic if you know what I mean.”

  ‘Mayor Reynolds’ red Mercedes was found this morning in the small community of Tilbruk. Located inside the vehicle was a small amount of cash and a mobile phone. Police have seized the car in the hope that it may contain traces of forensic evidence.

  ‘A petitioning of the local people of Tilbruk has been carried out with no clues being offered by the citizens of the sleepy seaside town. According to all sources, he seems to have just disappeared.

  There have been no sightings of the Mayor since his vehicle was
discovered. Family and friends have been unable to locate him, despite many attempts to contact people that he may have sought refuge with.

  ‘The mayor’s untimely disappearance was just the latest incident in a string of unlucky events for the mayor’s office recently. One year ago the council chambers had to be demolished and rebuilt due to an asbestos scare in the walls, and just two weeks ago the mayor’s personal assistant, Julia Parker, died tragically in a mysterious house fire that took the life of her and her husband.

  ‘The police have made no comments as to whether the events are linked. However, one source inside the council offices has voiced concern over the unusually close relationship of the Mayor and Mrs Parker. Council records show that the two have been working together for over ten years.

  ‘This is a claim strongly denied by the Reynolds family. Gladys Reynolds was not available for comment; however, a spokesperson for the family has stated “Winston has been a faithful husband at all times.”

  ‘When asked what the family would like to tell Winston, should he read this article, the spokesperson replied, “Winston, we all miss you and need to know that you are alright. Whatever has happened, we can get through it together. Please call to let us know that you’re alive and okay.”

  ‘If you have any details on the case or Mayor Reynolds’ whereabouts, please contact the Avalon police immediately.’

  Jasmine remembered Mayor Reynolds and his family well. They had been invited to all his functions at his big country house and they were always packed full of people. He had always been especially nice to children and made sure that there was something to keep them amused at every event, no matter how politically boring they were.

  She tried really hard to recall his disappearance, but it did not register in her memory bank. If it had been a big deal at the time, her grandparents had decided to shield her from it. After seeing some of the allegations in the article, she was not surprised.

  There was no way her mother could have been cheating on her father, especially not with her boss. She just was not the kind even to think about such things, or so Jasmine thought. She knew every child had idealised thoughts about their parents, but she considered hers were not just idealised; they were true.

  The article had mentioned there might be a connection to Mayor Reynolds’ walkabout and the fire. Jasmine tried to think how the two events could possibly have been linked but came up empty.

  The house fire had been an accident, at least that was what she had always been told. She had never questioned this fact. After all, who would purposely set fire to a house with four people sleeping inside it, two of which were children?

  A tap on the driver’s side window of the car made Jasmine jump, sending the articles skidding in all directions.

  “Hey, you still here?” Caleb was bent down to see inside the small car, a beaming smile on his face. Jasmine tried to compose herself and wound down the window.

  “Yeah, just doing some reading. Are you finished with your research?”

  “For now. I think I found what I was looking for. Hey, you look stressed, how about a cup of coffee?”

  “I would like that but I have an appointment elsewhere and I’m running late so I should probably go. Maybe next time.”

  “Sure okay, you know where I am. See you ‘round.”

  “Like a donut,” Jasmine smiled and replaced the window. Caleb was a junior reporter for the Avalon Times; they had known each other since college. He was one of the very few people who actually moved to Avalon, and hadn’t been born there. Jasmine figured that was probably why he was friends with her and hadn’t ignored her like all the other ‘haves’. He was untainted by the community divide.

  On a normal Saturday, a coffee would have been just the thing Jasmine needed, but today she knew nothing would calm the stress. She needed answers and so far, all she was finding were more questions. She started the car and headed for home. There was more reading to be done.

  Chapter 3

  The small kitchen table looked like it would be more at home back in the library than in the little apartment that Jasmine rented. She had splayed out all the articles that had been printed off at the library. She separated them into two categories; one for nothing new, two for needed more research.

  From what she could gather, the fire had made headlines the morning afterwards. It was the usual spiel, tragic accident, two deaths, two surviving children. One small article published about a week after that night had mentioned the fire department had ruled the blaze had been started by ‘an electrical fault’. She guessed this meant one of the appliances or wiring had caused the initial spark. The house was made out of wood and not brick, so it wouldn’t take much for the fire to run out of control.

  Still, something in the back of Jasmine’s mind wasn’t settling right. If the fire had been so run of the mill, then why did the article about Mayor Reynolds refer to it as ‘mysterious’. They could have been trying to make a scandal out of nothing, but surely, they couldn’t just make things up to sell newspapers.

  If Scott O’Hara cared at all about his reputation, he would have needed some evidence to back up the claim. Jasmine’s instinct had always told her that most of the time there was always a little bit of truth to a rumour. In this instance, she hoped it was not right, but she needed to know for herself.

  She pulled out her notebook and started jotting these things down. If she were to get any answers, she would need to start with exactly what the questions were. Next, she would need to work out what information she needed to help the investigation get moving. Her analytical skills, as an accountant, were definitely coming in handy.

  She figured the best place to start with the fire was to go directly to the source, the fire department. They would have to have some report into the fire or they wouldn’t have been able to release a cause to the newspaper. Hopefully they would have the old Avalon spirit and still be holding records for a thirteen year old fire.

  * * *

  The firehouse was located in the west end of town so the loud sirens in the middle of the night wouldn’t disturb the better citizens of Avalon. Parked in the expansive driveway were two bright red fire engines. By the look of them, they were obviously the pride of the fleet. All the metal adornments were shiny in the sunlight and the hoses were neatly wound.

  Jasmine saw an office door and entered into a large room containing tables, chairs, a few office peripherals and a television set.

  Strewn about the room were a total of five firemen, all glued to the TV. ‘Must be a slow fire day,’ Jasmine thought to herself.

  When they failed to notice her presence after a few minutes, she coughed less subtly than she was hoping for. All eyes turned to her.

  “What can we do for you, little lady?” The fireman closest to the door spoke first.

  “Excuse me, sorry for interrupting, could I please speak to someone about a fire that happened a few years ago?”

  “Sure, step into my office and I’ll try and help.” As the man stood up, Jasmine got the first full sight of him. She was only 5’3” herself so everyone usually towered over her anyway, but he was especially big and tall. Not just slightly, but lumberjack big and tall. He was wearing baggy yellow trousers made out of a waterproof fabric with a dark navy singlet. He looked just like a fireman should look. “My name’s Dave by the way and you are?”

  “Jasmine. Thank you for taking the time.”

  “Not a problem, not much going on today anyway.” He smiled. If he had been thirty years younger Jasmine would have considered him good looking.

  “My parents died when our house caught fire in the middle of the night about thirteen years ago. I was only young at the time so I never really knew anything about what happened. I have been looking for information that might help. Do you know if you have records going back that far?”

  “Thirteen years is a long time. What street was it in; I usually have a good memory when it comes to fires.”

  “One hundred a
nd fifty six Savoy Street. It was a big one; I remember the roof caving in and everything.”

  “Savoy Street? Hmm.” Fireman Dave looked to be thinking it over. You could almost see the cogs turning in his head, sorting through all the fires he’d attended in his long years of service, hoping to recall the one the girl was after. He looked very serious all of a sudden. “No, I don’t think I do remember that one. Mustn’t have been working at the time. Might have been on holiday.”

  “Do you have records? Maybe the report that showed the cause of the fire?” Jasmine didn’t like the way Dave was now acting. His demeanour had changed from amicable to very short in an exceedingly quick period of time.

  “Sorry, we only keep records for a few years and then destroy them. If the fire was found to be accidental then the report isn’t kept for more than a couple of years. I have to go now, I’m sorry but it looks like a call might be coming in.”

  Dave ushered her out of his little office and back out into the driveway as quickly as possible. Before she could thank him again and give him her number, in case he were to recall anything later, he had closed the door. She slowly walked back to her car, thinking the call must not have been too urgent if they weren’t loading up the fire engines already.

  Jasmine sat in her car, thinking what a waste of time that had been. At least she now knew that record keeping wasn’t a strong point for the fire department. She was trying hard to think of all the other places that would have received a copy of the fire report. The police were the obvious choice; if two people lost their lives then they must have received a copy to confirm there were no homicides to investigate. However, the chances of getting a piece of evidence from the police were slim to none.