“You should be. You really do need to find the contact though.”
Jasmine gave him a look that said ‘I’m listening’, but really meant ‘Yeah, right’. She didn’t need to find the contact. She believed her father would contact her and let her know where he is. Now she’d worked out the postcards, he would know it was safe. If he’d tried to make further contact before she’d de-coded the messages, that would have definitely freaked her out.
They were sitting there in silence for a few moments, both mulling over the information, when one of Caleb’s fellow reporters approached. He pulled over his chair from his nearby desk and sat down next to them. He put out his hand for Jasmine to shake.
“I’m Chester Rake, nice to meet you.”
“Jasmine Parker.”
“Jasmine’s my girlfriend, Chester.”
“Good to see you’re not gay.” Then to Jasmine in a whisper, “We all suspected.”
“Hey! What do you need, Chez?” Caleb mocked an offence.
“I couldn’t help but hear the name Storm mentioned. Wondering what you knew about the family?”
“I used to go to school with Becky Storm. We were just reminiscing,” Jasmine replied, hoping he didn’t hear the rest of the conversation.
“Hmm. What’s the family like? I’ve heard stories. Did I hear you say ‘wife-beater’, Caleb?”
“It’s a secret, you weren’t meant to hear that. In fact, you weren’t meant to hear any of our conversation. Is nothing sacred around this place?” Caleb kept his tone friendly.
“It’s true then – big-shot lawyer Cynthia Storm was a victim of domestic abuse?”
Jasmine didn’t like where the conversation was going. She interjected, “We’re not saying if it’s true or not. It’s just gossip anyway. Not even worth repeating.”
“Well, thank you anyway.” Chester rolled his chair back to his desk and began typing on his computer.
Jasmine rolled her chair closer to Caleb. Keeping her voice in a low whisper, she said, “What was that all about?”
“Who knows? He isn’t the most sociable person. No-one here really speaks to him. He’s a bit of a loner.”
“Creepy. Anyway, I’ll leave you to get back to work. I’ll see you tonight.” She got up and gave him a lingering kiss before walking back to her car. Caleb may not have reacted to her news the way she had hoped, but she was still glad to have told someone. It didn’t seem right to keep something that big to yourself.
She unlocked her car and drove through McDonald’s to pick up some lunch on her way to the post office. As she drove, she made a list for herself in her head of what she needed to do that afternoon.
By the time Jasmine had eaten her lunch, she was sitting in the parking lot of the mail sorting centre. She went up and joined the queue. It wasn’t long before she was at the counter and waiting to sign for her package. She racked her brain trying to think what she was picking up. She didn’t remember buying anything on-line or entering any competitions. She hoped it was going to be something good. Bills you had to sign for generally weren’t nice.
She stood at the counter for what seemed like ages. The lady that had served her was taking a lot longer than she needed to retrieve a parcel from a shelf. Eventually, she returned with a small brown box that was sealed up tight with packaging tape. Jasmine signed for it and headed back to the car. She placed the box on the passenger seat next to her. She tried to picture what was inside. It was too big for jewellery, too small for shoes. She restrained herself, deciding to open it when she got home.
Her eyes kept flicking back to the package all the way to Caleb’s house. There hadn’t been a return address on the side and the postmark was from Cliffton. Maybe Lucy had sent her a little something. She was bursting to open it and find out. It wasn’t every day that you received an unexpected package in the mail.
As soon as she pulled up outside Caleb’s house, the rain started in earnest. It was pouring down in great torrents of cold water. She searched around on the floor of her car, but she couldn’t find an umbrella. She usually kept a spare one in there for moments like these, but even that one was missing. She resigned herself to the fact she was going to get wet, very wet.
She pulled her handbag over her shoulder, picked up her mobile phone, and placed the package underneath her shirt. That would at least stay dry, if nothing else. She braced herself, opened the door, and made a dash for the front porch. As quickly as she ran, she still got soaked right through.
She found her keys and unlocked the door. She was dripping all over the pristine white tiles on the foyer floor. She took out the package and placed it on the small sideboard in the entryway, putting her mobile phone on top of it to free up her other hand. She ran through the house to the closest bathroom to try and find a towel. She had to stop herself making any more of a mess of Caleb’s house.
She found a towel and started to dry her hair, which was causing the most drips. She had the towel covering most of her head, using both hands to tease out the water. She was satisfied she was dry enough for the moment, when she heard her mobile phone start to ring. She threaded the towel back through the rail and started down the corridor to answer the call.
The bathroom was located at the other end of the house to the entrance foyer. She started to run to make sure that she would be able to answer the phone before the caller hung up. She was about to turn the last corner when she heard an explosion. She stopped herself before she could round the corner, her heart thumping in her chest.
The explosion had been loud and had even knocked some of the pictures hanging on the wall to the ground.
After the explosion, she heard the sound of dirt settling, she poked her head around the corner, dreading what she was about to see. She looked down the corridor. There was still dust and flakes floating down to the floor. The foyer was covered in it. She looked at the mess. Suddenly dripping rain water on the floor paled in comparison.
She cautiously approached the foyer, careful not to step on any of the ceramic pieces scattered across the floor – a few minutes ago, it had been an expensive vase. She saw that there was nothing left of the sideboard, except a few very large splinters. She could see her mobile phone on the floor in pieces. There was no evidence of her parcel. In a neat circle around the table was a black mass that was obviously a result of the explosion.
She started to tremble. It had to have been her package that exploded. There was nothing else on the sideboard besides her mobile phone and the vase. She doubted whether a 17th century French vase would spontaneously combust.
For a few minutes, she just stood there staring. Had it not been for the rain drenching her, then she would have been the one to open the package. She could be in as worse condition as the splintered table. The thought sent a chill down her spine.
She thought about sitting down, taking a few minutes to recover from the shock, but decided against it. Doing nothing wasn’t going to stop her whole body from trembling. She did the only other thing she could think of, she went about cleaning up the mess. There was nothing more therapeutic than putting everything back to order after chaos had erupted. The vase and table were going to be a write off – as were some of the pictures that had once hung in the corridor. She stood staring at the black that covered the wall and part of the floor, unsure exactly what she should use to remove it. She tried some spray-on products but they just smeared it around. Next, she tried Ajax, which worked much better.
She couldn’t completely clean the black off, but it looked a hundred times better when she stood back to review her work.
Hopefully Caleb wouldn’t be too upset. After all, it wasn’t like it was her fault. Not only did she almost die today, she also suffered the tragic loss of her mobile phone. He should go easy on her tonight.
She wondered whether she should call someone – like the police or bomb squad or something, but she had cleaned up the scene now.
They wouldn’t have done anything anyway. She didn’t want the h
assles of recounting everything. It was just better if no-one knew about it.
She tried to sit down, but couldn’t keep still, so she decided to do something about the missing trust deed. Keeping busy was going to be the best way to not think about what had just happened. The deed’s absence kept niggling at her anyway. It had just seemed so odd to be missing one, when the other four had been so, well, complete.
She again thought about all the people who might have a copy and kept coming back to the only one possible source. The missing deed might be held at a bank where there is an account in the name of the trust. They always insist on seeing an original and then taking a copy. They also might just be big enough to squeeze through a gap in the red tape.
She went to the telephone book and found a listing of all the banks that had a branch in either Avalon or Cliffton. Both towns weren’t exactly the commercial centre of the world, so there weren’t that many listed. There were a total of 3 small credit unions, plus 2 branches of the larger, national banks.
Considering that Avalon Laboratories and all its associated thus far have been larger corporations, Jasmine discounted the credit unions from the equation. They would not be able to handle the foreign transactions that the labs would need to use on a day-to-day basis. Besides, using a small bank would be sure to dent the big hot shots’ egos.
That left the two branches of the big banks. She considered the two possibilities; either bank would be able to cater to their business needs. Only one bank had something she needed though – a person on the inside.
Four years ago, Jasmine had been dating a guy for almost six months. The relationship had been going so well, until he decided that he wasn’t really the one-girl type of guy. He needed to ‘sow his wild seeds’ as she had been told. She hadn’t seen it coming so the news floored her at the time. It had taken two weeks and a truckload of chocolate to be able to face the world again.
Now, looking back, Rhys had been a loser. Just out for a good time and ready to make life one big party. She never could quite remember what she ever saw in him. Whatever it was, it wasn’t his personality.
Rhys had sown his wild seeds. Sown so many in fact, that he eventually ran out of girls that would give him the time of day. One pregnancy scare later, he decided it might be time to call it quits on the party scene. He had been working as an accounts manager at the bank ever since.
Jasmine occasionally ran into him in town. They passed each other in the supermarket quite regularly. She wasn’t angry with him anymore. Now she felt lucky to have gotten out while she could. Now it was time he repaid her some of his ‘idiot debt’.
She picked up the phone and dialled the number for the First International Bank – Cliffton branch. A machine automatically answered after three rings. She pressed a button after each menu was given, wishing she could just bypass the machine and speak to a real person. Eventually, she was placed in a queue and told she was important.
There was no hold music, instead she was repeatedly told about how fantastic the bank was – it had even won a customer service award three years in a row. The spiel was interrupted every few minutes by the reassurance that she had proceeded in the queue and was still important to them. By the time the phone was answered, she had almost forgotten what she was phoning about.
“Good afternoon, First International Bank. You are speaking with Judy.”
“Judy, hi. May I speak with Rhys Mayer please.”
“Certainly, please hold.” The recorded voice was back, reminding her about the bank’s customer satisfaction record.
“Rhys Mayer speaking.” Jasmine immediately recognised his voice, except it wasn’t his usual tone – he was using his very best telephone voice.
“Rhys, it’s Jasmine Parker. How are you?” She tried to sound overly happy.
“Jaz, hey it’s been a while. I’m good, how about you?”
“I’m great. How’s the bank job going? I’m not interrupting anything am I?”
“It’s going well. How about you? Still at Apacho & Sons? I need my taxes done.”
“That’s good to hear. I’m still there. How would you like your taxes done for free this year?” She was happy he had mentioned his taxes, glad to have a bargaining chip.
“Free tax return sounds great – what’s the catch?”
“I need a favour.”
“Of course. What can I do for you today, Jaz?”
“Can I call you on your mobile? It’s kind of personal,” she said, well aware the call was being recorded. After all, the machine man had told her that at least half a dozen times when she was in the queue waiting for a real person.
“Sure, the number is 0455 555 741.” Jasmine hung the phone up and dialled the number. Rhys answered immediately.
“Okay, now what do you need?”
“I need to know if your branch looks after Avalon Laboratories or Hayden Incorporated?”
“You’re in luck – we do. I’m not their account manager though.”
“That’s okay. Second question, do you have access to all their records?”
“Yes I do, but as I’m sure you’re aware, it’s highly illegal to give out their personal details.”
“I know. I was just hoping you’d help me out. I just need one bit of information. Nothing at all that could get anyone into trouble.”
Rhys sighed. “What exactly do you need?”
“In the group, they have a company named Safe Net Pty Ltd. There are five shareholders that are trusts. I need to know if you have a copy of the trust deeds on your files, or more specifically, one particular deed.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you need to know just more than if we have a copy?”
“Probably, because you’re psychic. I need to know who the beneficiaries are.” There was silence on the phone. “Come on Rhys, you owe me for breaking my heart. Just this one little thing is all I ask. No-one will ever have to know.” She realised she sounded like she was begging and instantly regretted it. She had held on to her dignity for this long.
“I could lose my job over this.” Now he sounded grumpy, his smart phone voice lost.
“I promise it won’t happen. Just the names, that’s all I want.”
“What for anyway?”
She hadn’t prepared an answer for the question. She decided to go with honesty. “I think they killed my mother.”
“Your mother died in a house fire. I thought it was an accident.”
“So did I, until a little while ago. Turns out she was murdered.”
Rhys sighed. “Do you even know the trust’s name?”
“I know four of them, which only leaves the one I’m looking for.” She recited each of the names to Rhys, making sure he had the spelling correct.
“I’ll have to call you back. There are all types of restrictions on this kind of information – it’s going to take a little while.”
“Thank you so much, Rhys.”
“Can I get you on this number?”
“Yep. I’ll be waiting by the phone.” She hung up. For the first time since they had split up, she was happy she had met Rhys.
She stayed true to her word and kept within earshot of the phone all afternoon, busying herself with making dinner for Caleb and Logan. She wasn’t sure if Logan would be around for mealtime, but wasn’t going to risk not having enough food. After their previous conversation, she was hesitant to put him offside.
* * *
When the phone rang at 4:23pm, it nearly gave Jasmine a heart attack. The loud shrill ring was too much in the quiet house. She raced over to the receiver and picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Jaz – it’s Rhys. You owe me, big time. These bank accounts are under the care of the one account manager here who hates me. If he ever finds out, I’m dust – nothing, but dust.”
“Good thing he’s never going to find out then.”
“That better be true. Do you want the names?”
“A copy of the deed would be better.” She trie
d to push her luck and see how far it went.
Apparently, not very far. “I’m only going to give you the names. There’s no paper trail that way. Our stamp is all over these.”
“Okay, fair enough. What are the names?” He recited each of the beneficiaries’ names in turn. She started to write them down and stopped. She knew the names; they were already firmly ingrained into her mind.
She thanked Rhys and reminded him of the offer of a free tax return. He promised her he would make good on the offer and that he expected a “big refund” afterwards. She replaced the receiver.
All of a sudden, she needed to sit down. It seemed cliché, but she didn’t think her legs were going to hold her up for much longer. One explosion had been enough today. Now she got a bombshell too.
She edged over to the stool at the breakfast bar and perched herself on it. Her mind was racing, it couldn’t have been the trust she was looking for. Rhys must have made a mistake and given her the wrong details. There was after all, hundreds of trust deeds held at the bank. That one deed couldn’t have been right. It just couldn’t have been.
She didn’t want to believe it. If there wasn’t a mistake, Jasmine’s whole world was falling down around her. She felt like she was on a freefall and there was no parachute to slow her down. When she reached the end, all that was waiting for her was a hard bang as she hit the ground.
Chapter 18
Jasmine sat at the kitchen bench for half an hour before she was wrenched out of her thoughts by Logan coming home. She tried to compose herself. The last thing she wanted was for anyone knowing about what she had just discovered. She plastered a smile on her face, trying not to over compensate for how she really felt on the inside.
“Hi Logan. I umm, have made dinner if you’re hungry.” She hated the way her voice sounded shaky.
“Yeah, okay. Is Caleb here?”
“No, he shouldn’t be far away though.”
“Call me when he’s here.” Logan walked straight past the kitchen into his room. Jasmine waited to hear the door close behind him and breathed out all the air she had been holding in her lungs.
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