Ashes to Ashes

by Campbell, Jamie

  “I don’t really know. He would have either headed North or South. My feeling is that people generally head North to where it’s warmer. I guess we look at all the coastal towns.”

  “Or, we search for a report of an abandoned or stolen boat. If it were just a hire, then he wouldn’t have brought it back. The owner would have reported it stolen, which means it would have had to be recovered somewhere. That would be documented in the police report, so they could close the file. All boats have registration numbers, just like cars.”

  “Good thinking Ninety-Nine! If our man here does find the records then he would know if it was brought back on time or not.” They sat quietly awaiting the return of the storeowner. Half an hour went by before he appeared. They both jumped when he first spoke.

  He shook his head. “Nope, sorry. No one hired a boat at all that week. If I recall correctly, there were bad storms about during that time. Only the really keen fishermen go out then and they all usually have their own boats. Sorry I couldn’t help you. I hope you find your uncle.”

  “Thank you for looking, we appreciate your time.” They got up and left the store.

  “Well, there’s only one other place to look.” Caleb pointed at the other charter company. Its offices were located at the end of the pier.

  The boats docked outside were mostly larger, luxury boats. The kind that you would expect an executive with too much money on his hands and one free day a month to go sailing to hire. They made their way up to it and went inside.

  The interior here was the complete opposite of the fishing charters. Shiny brass nautical instruments lined the neatly painted walls; there were even curtains on the windows. Underfoot were floorboards polished to within an inch of their lives. The shop assistant here was a tall blonde young woman of no more than eighteen years of age. She wore a dress that resembled a sailor’s outfit, complete with the flat cap.

  “Good afternoon, my name is Tina, how can I help you?” She smiled a very fake smile and stood behind the counter.

  Jasmine let Caleb handle this one. She figured he would be most likely to get further with the statuesque woman than she could.

  “Hi, I’m Caleb, it’s lovely to meet you. We’re searching for our missing uncle. He disappeared about thirteen years ago and we think he may have hired a boat here.” He spoke with his best polite voice.

  “Thirteen years? That’s a long time. I don’t think we have records going back that far.” She wrinkled her nose as if the thought of something being that old scared her.

  “Oh, we really need to find him. Would you mind having a quick look for me? His name is Winston Reynolds and he hasn’t been seen since the 17th of July 1994. He would have hired the boat around then.” He gave her a puppy dog look, hoping his good looks and charm might just help him out. It did.

  “Well, I’ll have a look, but I can’t guarantee anything.” She sat down at the computer behind the counter and started typing. “I might be a while.”

  “That’s okay, we’ll wait.” They again found some chairs close by and sat down for the wait.

  Tina must have been better at using the computer than the old fisherman. Only ten minutes had passed before she called them over.

  “I have some documents from July 1994. I can’t see your uncle’s name though. There were only two boats hired out that week. One, to a Peter Parker, the other to an Edward Bain. It looks like Mr Bain returned his boat the same day, but Mr Parker never returned his. That’s strange.”

  “Was the boat ever found?” Caleb was getting excited with the information. Jasmine just might have been right.

  “It says that it was found about a month later up in Oyster Cove. They had to tow it back because it was damaged. Probably by rocks, or a storm, that’s how they’re usually beat up. People don’t seem to care too much when they don’t actually own it.” She looked up at them from her seat. “Is there anything else I can help with?”

  “No thank you, you’ve been great.” They quickly turned to leave the store and heard an “I hope you find your uncle”, just as they closed the door. They headed back to the car as quickly as they could.

  “Oyster Cove is about three hours from here. It’s definitely big enough to get lost in,” Jasmine said. “The timing also fits in perfectly. He abandons the boat as soon as he gets to shore. After a few days or so, after being at the mercy of the tides, it hits rocks and bangs about a bit until it’s finally found.”

  “Exactly; no one would have thought anything was wrong, just another irresponsible tourist that’s had a good time and discarded the boat.”

  They reached the yellow jeep and got in. It was just starting to get dark and the marina lights had been turned on. It almost looked to Jasmine, like a romantic spot to be on a Wednesday night.

  “It’s too late to drive to Oyster Cove tonight.” Caleb started the engine. “Maybe this weekend we should take a cruise on up, stay for a few days. What do you think?”

  “That sounds like a plan. I have work tomorrow anyway.” She buckled her seatbelt and they left the car park, heading in the direction of the highway. They travelled for a distance in silence, both mulling over their findings.

  Jasmine turned her head towards Caleb; his eyes were fixated on the outstretched road. “Caleb, why are you helping me with this? Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate it and all, but don’t you have better things to do?” Caleb took his eyes of the road for a moment to look at her.

  “I’m doing it because it’s fun. I feel like Mulder and Scully.” He smiled. “Plus, you know I like hanging out with you.”

  She left the conversation there, not sure what to do next in the awkward silence that fell over them. She had mixed feelings about Caleb. Sometimes she thought he wanted a bit more from their relationship, other times she thought she was just fooling herself. No guy from the East side of town would ever be interested in a girl from downtown. It was ingrained in her to stick with this belief.

  Sometimes though, when he was being so nice to her and was looking so good, she dreamed he was into her. She had never been able to talk with her ex-boyfriends the same way she could with Caleb. She supposed that was why they were such good friends.

  She had hoped one day that would turn into more. There was a risk though, that if she did try and move their friendship to the next level and cross that line, there would be consequences. If he didn’t feel the same way, then their friendship would be dented, if not all together smashed. She had never really wanted to put it to the test. For now, he was helping her and that’s all she needed.

  They arrived back in Avalon well after dark, where Jasmine collected her car and drove home. She felt a little apprehensive about going home alone, considering the events of the night before, but she was too full of pride to ask Caleb to come and make sure everything was okay. As she stood at her front door, she took a deep breath and after opening it, immediately reached for the light switch.

  She opened her eyes and let her breath out; everything seemed to be in order. Nothing overturned, no drawers emptied out onto the floor. Everything was just as it was supposed to be. Maybe the guy was just lost or something, she reasoned.

  She fixed herself a dinner which consisted of spaghetti on toast and turned on the television for some background noise. Even though the apartment was fine, she still felt a little jumpy and ill at ease.

  She thought over what she and Caleb had discovered in Tilbruk. At first it had seemed like a major discovery but after some consideration, she realised they weren’t really any further ahead in finding Mayor Reynolds. They just knew someone had used and abused a charter boat and discarded it near Oyster Cove. That person could have been anyone, maybe even Mr Peter Parker himself.

  If they were to go to Oyster Cove on the coming weekend, where would they start? It would be unlikely to find a witness thirteen years after the event, and if they were lucky enough, how reliable would the information be?

  Oyster Cove wasn’t a huge town, but it was big enough for res
idents not to notice too much about their fellow neighbours. It would definitely be easy to blend in. This was in stark contrast to Avalon, where everyone knew everyone else’s business; both real and rumoured.

  Jasmine discounted any help the citizens of Oyster Cove might offer. It would be sketchy at best and most likely be a waste of time even asking. Whatever questions they had, they would have to rely on either technology or old-fashioned paper records.

  After she had washed up her dishes and taken a shower, Jasmine sat down on the couch again and took out her notebook. It now contained bits and pieces of information she had discovered about the mayor and the fire. She re-read them to see what more she could add.

  One piece of information stood out as she skimmed through the pages. Gran had said Gladys Reynolds moved out of Avalon a few months after the mayor disappeared. It was apparently because she was so distraught from all the memories the town held of the happier days. Jasmine thought that this was strange. When she had first lost her parents, she craved for everything to stay the same. She didn’t want anything unfamiliar around her and she was so pedantic about it that she had refused to change out of her nightgown for two days straight. When things changed, it meant people were moving on and those that you loved were being forgotten. If you kept everything the same, then maybe they would come back, walk right through the door as if nothing had happened. They didn’t of course, but there was always a part of Jasmine that was waiting for them to.

  She turned her thoughts back to the wife, shaking her head to try and re-focus. A few months was not a long time to have someone missing, especially someone where there wasn’t grave concern for their safety. A child being snatched from a railway station, maybe, but a perfectly capable adult male, definitely not. She wondered if she would have more luck finding Mrs Reynolds, instead of her husband.

  If she was kind enough to talk to her, then maybe she could offer up a few clues.

  Jasmine decided that would be her project for tomorrow. Having made up her mind, she then went to bed.

  Chapter 6

  Jasmine took her lunchbreak at exactly twelve o’clock on the Thursday. She had called her gran earlier that morning and discovered Gladys Reynolds was a regular at the Avalon Ladies Tennis Club, which formed part of the main country club. It would be a start anyway. She had changed her clothes into something less corporate and taken off in her car in that direction.

  The ladies tennis club was housed in a small part of the main tennis court lobby. Covering the walls were pictures of their annual tournament winners, each one smiling like a Cheshire cat and holding up a gold trophy. The ladies were mainly in their golden years; obviously, they catered for the more mature woman.

  A small group of women were sitting huddled up together around a coffee table near the window. They each had their tennis skirts and hats on, tennis racquets were perched nearby. Drinks of various sorts and strengths filled the table. ‘Obviously tennis is a just a cover to have a drink,’ Jasmine thought to herself. As she approached the table, she put her best smile on, trying to act as if she was yet another delightful little rich girl waiting for her parents. All the women watched her approach.

  “Good afternoon ladies, I was wondering if you would have a moment to spare for me?” She looked around trying to pull off coy as best she could. When they didn’t say anything, she continued without hesitation. “I attend Saint Mary’s University and I’m writing an essay about people that I most admire. I remember when I was a little girl running about this place that there was a lovely lady named Gladys something, I think she was married to the mayor? I’m not sure; anyway, I used to just love her. Do you know where I could find her?”

  She looked towards each face in turn. They were not returning her gaze, instead looking at each other for answers. Jasmine held her breath, completely unsure which way this conversation was going to go. Finally one of them broke ranks and spoke.

  “You’re talking about Gladys Reynolds. She moved away from here quite some time ago. You must have been only a little girl at the time.” She giggled over the last comment.

  “Oh, moved away? Really? Oh golly, I really wanted to write my essay about her. You don’t know where she moved to by any chance? I bet you were all, like, best friends.”

  “We were very good friends, yes.” This time another of the women spoke, she held a Martini in her hand. “I think she moved up North, said she wanted to spend more time at the beach.”

  Jasmine sensed they were tiring of her questions. “Okay, I guess I’ll go write it on Britney Spears or someone else then. Thanks anyway.” She skipped away as if she didn’t really have a care in the world who she was writing about. She could hear the women whispering as she left. She tried to slow down her pace to see if she could make out what they saying, but it didn’t work. Hanging around would seem too suspicious.

  She got back into her car and changed clothes. She drove only a small car, so it was a bit tight but she managed okay. She’d had plenty of practice doing a quick change over the years. One of the perils of living with the aged, they didn’t really approve of teenage fashions.

  On her way back towards the office, she was thinking again of Gladys Reynolds moving away so quickly and how she was going to find her. She had thought it would be easier to find someone that was definitely alive. A thought struck her. The mayor lived in a large house, if Gladys moved she would have had to have taken all her furniture with her. It would look odd if she didn’t. How would you move a huge house worth of furniture? Hire a removalist! Find the removalist, find the wife. She pulled her car off the road and took out her mobile phone.

  The robotic voice of directory assistance picked up after two rings. She discovered that Avalon had a total of three removalist companies.

  She dialled the first one – AAA House Removals.

  “Good afternoon, Triple A House Removals, how can I help you?” A female voice answered the phone.

  “Hello, my name is Jessica and I’m looking for a good reliable removalist in the Avalon area. How long have you been established?”

  “We have been in business since 1997. We pride ourselves on our reliability and good honest service. When were you planning on moving?”

  “In about a week’s time, thank you, I’ll keep you in mind.” She hung up. That narrowed it down to two companies, unless of course she chose someone from out of town. Possible, but tennis club ladies usually stick to what they know. She dialled the second number.

  “Hello, Avalon Removals, we’ll get you moving, my name is Alison, how can I help you?” She repeated the spiel that she’d told AAA Removals.

  “We have been established for over twenty years now.”

  “Great! I like locals that know what they’re doing. This might sound strange but do you usually keep records of the removals you do for a period of time? I like my anonymity; you see my husband is quite well known.”

  “Privacy it one of our utmost priorities ma’am, you can rest assured there. We do keep records but they’re all stored securely in our computer system. No one can access them without authorisation.”

  “That’s good to know, thank you. I’ll keep you in mind.” She hung up and dialled the last number.

  “Good afternoon, you are speaking with Reggie at Radio Removals, what can I do for you today?” For the third time, Jasmine told her story again.

  “We have been in business for over twenty five years; however we traded under a different name until about ten years ago. We pride ourselves on our customer service.”

  She questioned the records and was told that when the business changed names, they also updated their computer system. All old records were cleared out at this time. If Reggie thought the questions were strange, she didn’t let it show in her voice. ‘Now that’s what true customer service is about,’ Jasmine concluded.

  She put her mobile phone back in her handbag and turned the car back onto the road. Out of the three removalists, there was only one that might have details on the R
eynolds’ move. She doubted they would give that information away freely. She figured it wouldn’t hurt to try though; she didn’t have much to lose.

  At 5:00pm that afternoon Jasmine headed straight for the shopfront of Avalon Removals. This time she stayed in her corporate wear, hoping it would add an air of authority to her. Or at least help her look not so crazy. She didn’t want to put a foot wrong with them.

  The shopfront was tiny, with only two chairs and a high counter. At first, it looked deserted, until a woman with red hair popped her head up from behind the counter. She instantly smiled and greeted Jasmine. It was the same woman she’d spoken to on the phone; she hoped that she wouldn’t recognise the voice. She thought quickly for a new alias.

  “Hi, my name is Katie and I’m hoping you can help me.” Alison nodded so that she would continue. “My auntie moved out of Avalon about thirteen years ago and we’ve been trying to track her down. My mother, her sister, is dying of liver disease and she wants to say goodbye to her. We’re running out of time to find her. You’re my last hope of finding out where she moved to from here.” She paused and looked directly at Alison to gauge her reaction. Some people just didn’t play to the sympathy card.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” But most people did play to it. One of the strengths, or faults, of human nature.

  “Thank you. You see, they had a fight about fifteen years ago, it was about a man of course, and they both went their separate ways. Mum has always regretted it, so she wants to make peace with my aunt before it’s too late.” Jasmine checked to see whether she was buying it and it looked like she was hanging on her every word. “I’m sure she’s holding on to life just long enough to say ‘I’m sorry’.”

  “What was your aunt’s name and I’ll have a look to see if we ever did anything for her.”

  “Gladys Reynolds.”

  “Gladys Reynolds? Did you know her husband was the mayor here?” She started typing into the computer keyboard.