Caleb introduced them and they shook hands. Wolf headed off for his office and they trailed behind. The building appeared to be completely empty. The few rooms that had their doors open were sitting in darkness. Only the corridor had lights on which were shining the way towards Wolf’s lit up office. He pointed to a pair of seats beside a desk. He lowered himself into the chair opposite.
“So, I hear you have some photos for me?” He spoke very precisely.
Jasmine pulled out the three autopsy photos, one of her mother’s bones the other two of her father’s body. “I do, here. The first one is my mother, the second and third are of my father.”
“And they died in a house fire?” Jasmine nodded and he continued to stare at them. His brow furrowed with his concentration. “They were found next to each other?”
“Yes. They were asleep in bed. The fire happened in the middle of the night.”
“Hmm. Was any fire accelerant used?”
“I don’t know, I don’t think so. The fire was meant to be an accident. An electrical fault.”
“What type of electrical fault?”
“Ceiling fan – the fire report said it was a wiring issue.”
“Did you bring a copy of the report?” Jasmine pulled the police department’s report out of her folder and handed it over the desk to Wolf. They waited as he read through it carefully.
“Nope, it’s not right.”
“What do you mean? What part isn’t right?”
“A few things actually.” He lowered his voice and looked around the room before locking eyes with Caleb. “Are we speaking off the record here?”
“Strictly off the record. This isn’t going to end up in the newspaper. It’s a personal matter,” Caleb reassured him.
Wolf nodded approval and his voice returned to normal. “Okay then. First, with temperatures of that degree, you wouldn’t have a ceiling fan left to examine. It’s like ‘Fire 101’. Metal burns at one thousand degrees Fahrenheit you would be hard pressed to know that a fan even existed there. This Bruce Hamil guy must have been on drugs to write this report.”
“What else isn’t correct?” Jasmine prompted.
“Look at the condition of the bodies. The first victim was practically cremated while the second victim was still mainly intact. Sure, he’s in a pretty bad way, but you can still see that he’s human. Was your father severely overweight? Usually a large person takes longer to burn. That might explain it.”
“Both my parents were average sizes. They tried to stay fit and healthy.”
“Another explanation might be that your victim one was covered in an accelerant. But if the report here is right, then a fire burning at that temperate would have dusted both of them regardless.”
“Is there any scenario you have come across where this is possible?” Jasmine wasn’t really sure she wanted an answer. From what she gathered about Wolf, he told it like he saw it. People like that scared her.
“The only other possible reason, would be if victim two was introduced to the crime scene after victim one. He would have been exposed to the fire for a considerably shorter time and therefore wouldn’t have been cooking for as long.” He put the photos and the report back on the desk, as if he had concluded his findings.
“How long would the time frame be?”
“It usually takes about two to three hours for an average body to cremate. For the amount of damage to victim two, I would estimate that it was burning for about an hour. There is at least a one-hour time gap between these two. My guess would be the gap was probably closer to two hours. There’s something else too. Usually, the run-of-the- mill house fire doesn’t reach this kind of temperature. Not without an accelerant.”
“Could anything in the house be an accelerant?”
“Not usually, not unless the victims hoarded kerosene. We typically find that for a fire to burn so hot and for so long, there is petrol or kerosene soaking everything. There is nothing like that mentioned in the report. Usually, it’s noted as it’s a big part of the arson investigation to follow. But I’m guessing there wasn’t one of those.”
“Right. Thank you so much for your time. Oh, and one last thing. I know this sounds crazy, but can you be born without an appendix?”
“Not unless you were a freak of nature. We don’t need an appendix, but they are permanently inbuilt in our DNA.”
“I thought so. Thank you again.” Jasmine gathered the papers back and they stood, shaking hands in turn. Wolf walked them out to the front door and locked it behind them. They were back in the car before they spoke again.
“How did he get his nickname?” Jasmine asked in puzzlement.
“Long story, but I believe it involved some tequila and a camping trip in the Northern Territory.” Caleb smiled. “What did you think of all that?”
“I think I’m more confused than ever. I just don’t understand that if the inconsistencies were so great, then why on earth didn’t someone pick up on it? It took him a minute to work it out. Yet no one else in Avalon has. I wish he had been around thirteen years ago.”
“He’s good, that’s for sure.”
“What he said kind of supports the evidence that the male body might not be my dad’s, but it makes no sense, adding a body to the fire after a couple of hours.”
“How does that fit with the timeline? Could someone have had the opportunity to switch bodies without the fire department, or anyone else, seeing?”
“Well, let’s think about it. The fire was well underway when I woke up. The smoke was coming in through the door and the whole back part of the house was burning. It probably took Lucy and me about ten minutes to crawl out and we waited outside for about twenty minutes.”
“How long was it then before the fire was put out?”
“I don’t know; it’s hard to grasp the concept of time when you’re waiting for your parents. If I had to put a time on it, I would probably say an hour, maybe an hour and a half?”
“So they had a good half-hour window to swap bodies if they had to. In and out through the back, without anyone being the wiser. Did your backyard have good access?”
“Yeah, it did. We had a shed at the back that Dad used to drive through to put things in sometimes.”
“It’s plausible then, if nothing else. What do you want to do now?”
“Would you mind going back to my place? I have some paperwork to read through. I want to try and make sense of who exactly owns Avalon Laboratories.”
“Home it is, via Subway to pick up some lunch. I’m starving.”
He started the car, Jasmine looked out the window while he drove, remembering the last time she had had any contact with her parents.
* * *
Gran had made her wear her black dress. Jasmine hadn’t wanted to. She was going to say good-bye to her mother and father. Her mother hated black, always saying that it was a depressing colour.
She wanted to wear bright pink, just like she remembered her wearing on hot summer days. She wouldn’t have approved of black, even if it was for a funeral.
The weather was so bleak that day. It had been raining all night and just as it looked like clearing up, the downpour started again.
Jasmine thought maybe it was her causing the rain. She had, after all, cried enough tears to fill the clouds. She had thought that maybe you could run out of tears; that eventually they would dry up because there just wasn’t any left. If that was true, then she would have needed a very large reserve to draw upon.
Gran and Gramps drove Lucy and her to the cemetery. Not a word was said the whole way there. It was as if talking caused too much pain, made the day seem too ordinary. Today was anything but usual. Today was the day that her parents were buried in the ground forever and ever. Any hope Jasmine had been holding onto, that it was all just a big mistake, was going to be gone today – buried in the ground, along with her parents.
There were lots of people crowded around the open graves. Jasmine only recognised some of them. A few peop
le came up to her, to speak with her, try to cheer her up. As if their empty words were going to make any difference to her life. She would rather they just all went away. Leave her alone, because they didn’t understand what she was going through. No one could, except maybe Lucy.
The two sisters had clung to each other as if they were the only people left in the world. They were each others’ lifelines and no matter what happened, they were not going to leave the other one alone. When Jasmine looked into Lucy’s eyes, her own emotions were mirrored there; despair, disbelief and above all – sadness.
The only thing that was worse than the people that spoke to her, were the people that didn’t. Those people just stared, pity plastered over their faces as if they were masks. It was too uncomfortable to approach the grieving family. Instead they just stared. Jasmine didn’t blame them. If she were in their situation, she wouldn’t have known what to say or do either.
The rain poured down over the cemetery. Water was starting to form large pools on the ground. The priest was standing at the head of the open graves, an older woman holding a black umbrella over his head. The other attendees also carried umbrellas – mostly black. Julia Parker would definitely not have been impressed with the colour choice.
Lucy and Jasmine were being covered by an umbrella too. Gramps was holding it with one hand high above their heads. His other hand was comforting his wife. He sometimes muttered to himself, saying it was wrong for a parent to bury his child. He made a good point.
The umbrella was doing little to keep the rain away from the children. Jasmine didn’t care; she was immune to the rain today. Numbness was flowing through her veins; she couldn’t feel a thing. Water didn’t kill you anyway, it was fire that ended lives.
Jasmine had tried to listen to the priest and what he was saying, but it was too windy and wasn’t important anyway. Her parents were lying in wooden caskets, about to be covered in mud. Whatever he was saying was not going to change that fact. He could go on about heaven and God all day; it wasn’t going to bring them back.
Jasmine didn’t know if she believed in God that day. How he could take her beautiful parents away was beyond her. He either didn’t exist, or he didn’t care. Either way, it made her angry. An eleven year old girl shouldn’t be standing at her parents’ grave – she should be having fun with her friends, baking cookies with her mum, or playing backyard cricket with her dad.
Gran had told her that when she got so sad that she couldn’t bear it anymore, to think about a good memory she had. It had been difficult at first, trying to think of something that didn’t make her cry even harder, but then it had come to her. When she was eight years old, they had all gone on a holiday to Brisbane. It had been so exciting going into the city. It was Christmas time, so all the big department stores had huge displays. They had visited Santa to get their photos taken together. Lucy didn’t want to have her picture taken, she didn’t like cameras. So Mum and Dad had climbed onto Santa’s knee – one either side. It was only then that Lucy agreed and together they all sat on Santa and smiled for the camera. Everyone watching laughed. They thought it was hilarious. Poor Santa probably lost the feeling in his legs.
It was her happy memory, because it really showed what her parents were like. They wanted to be hands-on and involved with them. They wanted to share in the experiences with their daughters, not just leave them to their own devices. They had all been so happy in the picture. It had hung right in the middle of the living room wall, so all could see it. It was destroyed in the fire of course – Jasmine only had the memory now.
Every time she thought she couldn’t live with the pain anymore; Jasmine would picture the photo in her mind. It had made her tears dry up nearly every time. Not today though, even the Santa picture wouldn’t work on a day like this.
The priest finished speaking and people started to leave. The caskets were covered up just a little bit. The grave workers would do the rest when everyone had left. Gramps nudged the girls gently, letting them know it was time to leave. They didn’t move; their feet frozen to the ground, unable to walk. Leaving would mean that they would never see their parents again, even if they were inside a wooden box.
In the end, Gramps had to hand the umbrella over to Gran. Using both of his arms he picked the girls up and carried them back to the car. They couldn’t have walked away from their parents – not ever.
* * *
“We’re home.” Caleb’s voice startled Jasmine. She didn’t realise they had driven anywhere. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” They slowly walked upstairs and ate their lunch in silence.
Jasmine was replaying her conversation with Wolf, making sure to remember every piece of information he gave. She jotted it down on her notepad as she remembered.
After they were finished, she cleared the table and put all the wrappers in the rubbish bin. She picked up her handbag and took it back to the table.
“I went into work yesterday and traced back the ownership of Avalon Laboratories. It was like chasing a rabbit down a rabbit hole. Company after company held the shares. Eventually, it all came back to a few companies that had trusts as shareholders. That’s where the trace ended. Private trusts aren’t public record so I couldn’t find out anything about them.” She reached into her bag and pulled out the pieces of paper she had stuffed in there the day before. As she was pulling them out, her address book and a small piece of paper fell out too.
“So how do we find out who owns the trusts?” Caleb got up from the table and put the kettle on for some hot drinks. He found some mugs and waited for the water to boil.
“We can’t really. Not unless we can find their accountant or solicitor and read their trust Deeds.” She laid out the paper and put the address book back. She looked at the scrap of paper, trying to remember what it was. It looked like a phone number. Then she remembered that Becky Storm had slipped her the number when they had morning tea. For some reason, it looked familiar to her. She stared at the numbers. They were cursive, but very neatly written. It reminded her of some other writing.
She pawed around the table, trying to find the anonymous note that she received yesterday. She had left it on the table somewhere. She looked underneath the placemats, ignoring Caleb’s questions about what she was looking for. She picked up the salt and pepper shakers, the bowl that she kept her keys in, the paper she had just put down. The note was not on the table. She slid off her seat and crawled around on the floor to get underneath the table.
The note and the envelope were near one of the table legs. She grabbed it and resumed her seat. She put the note back on the table and looked at the envelope. The author had made a mistake by handwriting the envelope. Either they didn’t know how to use their printer to print on an envelope, or they wanted to be found out. She compared the writing with Becky’s telephone number. They were the same neat cursive numbers.
She showed them both to Caleb. “Would you say this was the same writing?” He carried the two coffee mugs over and placed them on the table.
“It looks like it. Is it meant to be?” She showed him the note. “You received another one of those?”
“Yesterday. I didn’t get it at the time, but it’s all making sense now. I ran into a girl I went to school with – Becky Storm – and she insisted that we have a coffee together. She used to make fun of me at school and would only give me the time of day to insult me. I haven’t seen her in years and then suddenly I run straight into her when all this is going on. Literally too, I ran into her and dropped my newspaper.”
“What did you talk about?”
“The usual small talk, about our jobs and family. I couldn’t wait to get away from her. And then when we were leaving, she made me take her phone number and said to call at any time.”
“Did she ask you anything about the fire?”
“Not really. She didn’t mention it once. It has to be her though. The first letter I got was at work. After I had coffee with her and mentioned that I was on lea
ve, the second note turned up at home. It can’t be a coincidence. The writing is exactly the same!”
“I agree about the writing. Tell me more about this Becky girl.” He put the envelope and number back on the table.
“We went right through school together. Started in kindergarten on the same day and graduated high school the same day. Her parents were both lawyers and she was a snob. She always had to have the best of everything and be worshipped by everyone.”
“Her parents were both lawyers? What happened?” he interrupted.
“Her mother still is. She owns and runs Storm & Associates in town. Her father used to work there too, but skipped out on them ages ago. Yet another deadbeat dad. Becky now works in the family business.”
“So how would she know about the fire?”
“I don’t know. She’s got the perfect life and has always lived in a fabulous world of her own. What doesn’t concern her, she usually ignores.”
“Okay, second question. Why would she want to tell you about it and then make it obvious it’s her?”
“Again, I don’t know. I haven’t seen Becky since high school and I was nothing to her. I’m surprised she even remembered me. Do you think I should call her? Ask her these questions?”
“Might be better face-to-face. That way you can get a feel for her body language. Make sure she’s not just messing with you.” He put his hand over hers for reassurance. She picked up her mug and walked over to the lounge in the next room. Caleb followed. They sat down next to each other.
“What worries me is that if someone like Becky Storm is involved, this could be deeper than I first thought. The Storms are the Avalon elite. You don’t mess with them.” Jasmine took a sip from her mug.
Ashes to Ashes Page 18
