She tested her legs to make sure they would be able to hold her up. Once she was satisfied she wouldn’t just fall in a heap, she slid off the stool and put her weight on both legs. She walked around the bench into the kitchen and checked on the dinner. It was all ready. Hopefully it wouldn’t be burnt by the time Caleb arrived.
She couldn’t keep still. She thought if she didn’t keep herself busy, then she might do something crazy. Running into the street screaming, was a possibility. She pictured herself doing this, all the neighbours with their noses up in the air in disgust at the disturbance to their picture-perfect life. All the little kids would stand by and watch, their mouths hanging wide, watching the crazy lady. None of them would realise just how much her life was burning to the ground.
The worst part of it all was having to pretend everything was okay. She didn’t want Caleb to think she was nuts or Logan for that matter. She considered driving back to her apartment. The little part of the world that she called home seemed like an obvious choice for hiding from the world, but that had been tainted too. She wasn’t safe there. As crazy as she felt, she wasn’t stupid enough to take refuge in the place that she was least safe of all. At least here at Casa Marshall, there were two men around to watch over her. They might not be willing to fight for her life, but at least they had the appearance of being formidable enemies. Jasmine definitely wouldn’t want to try and take them down in a fight. From all the scary books she had read, she got the impression that bad guys who send out threatening notes and parcel bombs generally aren’t calling someone’s bluff. They mean business.
But then again, those same books she had loved reading so much, up until about three weeks ago, had also told her she wasn’t safe anywhere. No matter where you hid, the bad guys would get to you. You might think you’re safe, but it’s a false sense of security. She had never read a book where the bad guys were arrested and were locked up forever, without some kind of harm being struck upon the damsel in distress. She was sure that nowhere was safe – and she was freaking out.
She pulled the steamed vegetables off the stove, acting with too much precaution than was really necessary. She knew the vegetables weren’t out to get her, but they could still burn. She concentrated on getting them into a serving dish without dropping the whole damn pot.
Caleb’s car purred into the garage. A few minutes later, he walked into the house, looking like he’d had a hard day at work.
“Honey, I’m home,” he called into the empty corridor.
“In here. I’ve got dinner ready,” she called back.
“Why didn’t I get myself a housewife years ago?” He put his laptop onto the breakfast bar and went into the kitchen. He gave Jasmine a kiss on the cheek and helped her hold the pot of vegetables.
She tried to control her shaking hand, praying he wouldn’t notice.
“I think you have to marry me to get a housewife. Until then, I’m just the chick that you’re shacked up with.”
“You make it sound so tawdry. I like it. Hey, what happened to the foyer?”
“Someone tried to blow me up, it’s a long story. Can you please set the dinner table? I’ve got everything under control here. Logan’s having dinner with us.” She tried to get him out of the kitchen.
“Someone tried to blow you up? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, they sent me a bomb in a package through the mail. I’m okay though, I’m just really sorry about your foyer.”
He pulled her into a hug. “The foyer doesn’t matter, just as long as you’re okay. How did it go off?”
“I think my mobile phone set it off. I put it on top of the package when I went to the bathroom. It started to ring and then the next thing I heard was ka-boom.”
“Was Logan here when it happened?”
“No, I was alone.”
“Did you call the police? Do you have any idea who it was?”
“Who do you think it was! It was Avalon Laboratories, or one of their associates. It was probably Brent McBain; it seems like something he’d do. I didn’t report it to the police – they wouldn’t have been any help.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? I worry about you. I can’t believe this happened. It’s surreal. How can you pretend that this isn’t a big deal?”
“I’m fine. Could you please just set the table?”
“Sure, no problem. You’re alright though?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He left her to go and follow orders in the dining room. She managed to get all the vegetables and the roast beef onto plates without dropping or burning anything. She left the dishes on the bench, not trusting herself to take them into the dining room.
She left the food for Caleb and walked down the hall. She stood outside Logan’s bedroom and knocked on the door. She could hear rap music on the other side. After a few moments, there was no sound from Logan. She knocked again, louder this time.
“Logan? Dinner’s ready.” She heard movement and stepped back from the door as it opened. Logan followed her to the dining room where Caleb had set the places and had placed the food on the table.
The three of them sat down and served themselves. For most of the meal, they ate in silence. The only sounds were that of cutlery clinking against each other or the occasional scraping on the ceramic plate. It was uncomfortable to say the least. Jasmine knew why she wasn’t speaking – she didn’t trust herself – but she didn’t understand why neither Logan nor Caleb was speaking.
She thought back to the apparent argument she had accidentally overheard previously. Maybe there was some bad blood between them over that issue. It’s possible there was still more to the argument that either one, or both, were still seething over. Jasmine didn’t understand guys. Girls just kept everything bundled up until they exploded and said everything they were aggrieved about. It would all come out in the one fight, and then they’d cry and get over it. Simple, easy, done and dusted. Sure, they might still hold a grudge over time, but they would just internalise it.
After the food was almost eaten, Jasmine thought she had to break the silence. It was too unbearable just to sit there and stare at the plate for any longer. She took a breath and steadied her voice before speaking.
“So, how was everyone’s day?”
Logan managed to grunt a “Fine.”
Caleb was more obliging. “It was fine thanks. We covered a few interesting stories.”
“Good. Is the mayor still sleeping around?”
Logan dropped his cutlery onto his empty plate. He picked the dish up and slid his chair back as he stood. “Thank you, Jasmine.” He glared at Caleb and stalked out of the room.
It was time for answers, Jasmine thought. “What’s going on between you and Logan?”
“Nothing. Who knows what goes on with the guy?”
“I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I heard you fighting the other day.”
“That was just about his attitude to you. I thought he should be nicer.”
“Does he not like me – is that the problem?” She could tell he was lying. Every time he told a fib, he wouldn’t look her in the eyes. Right now, he was looking at a spot on the wall.
“It’s just him. I don’t know why I let him live here.”
“Because you’ve been best friends for a long time. I don’t want to come between that.”
He leaned over and kissed her. “You’re not and it’s okay. He just needs some time. He’ll come to love you as much as I do.”
“I hope not – he’s not really my type.” She kissed him back. “So, have you had any more thoughts about who the beneficiaries of the last trust deed could be?”
“No, none. Hey, have you thought about where to find your father yet?”
She noticed the change in topic. Either he really didn’t know or he was hiding the fact that he did. She would prefer to know which one was true, but she couldn’t tell. “No, but I’m sure he’ll be back soon. His informant will update him and when everything is all over, he’ll know it’s safe to return.�
�
“Do you really think he’ll want to come back? After everything that’s happened?”
“He’ll want to see his daughters and parents. If I know anything about my dad, he’ll want to see us. Family was everything to him.”
They both stood up from the table and started clearing the dishes. Once all the dirty plates and pots were safely in the dishwasher, whirling away, they put a movie into the DVD player and settled in for the night. Neither felt in the mood for conversation. It was a good escape.
* * *
Friday morning brought sunshine streaming into the bedroom through the blinds, casting horizontal lines across the room like laser beams in a high-tech security system.
Jasmine woke up to find herself alone in the bed. She looked at the alarm clock. It blinked 8:00am. Caleb would be downstairs eating breakfast before going off to work. The last day of the working week always made people feel like going into work early. Working hard on the last day makes the following Monday a bit more bearable. Or that was the theory; it had never really worked for her.
She rolled back the covers and took a shower. Today was going to be a good day. She was prepared for anything that was thrown at her. She steeled herself, knowing anything really did mean anything.
She couldn’t change what she knew, but she had the mindset now that she would get through it. ‘Bring it on’, she told herself.
She went downstairs, but found the house empty. She listened at Logan’s door, but he was either asleep, comatose, or out. Hoping that it was the latter, she went into the kitchen and poured herself some orange juice. She made some toast to go with it and sat at the breakfast bar. Sitting folded on the bench was the daily newspaper.
She opened the fold and read the front page. It made her drop her toast. The headline read:
‘Man Found Dead in Villa’.
Despite all that she had uncovered, murders were actually rare in Avalon. There were a few disappearances and assaults now and then, but murders were few and far between. Avalon always felt like a safe place to live. Even a false sense of security was better than none.
She continued through the article. A man had been found dead in his villa on the eastern side of town. He had lived alone. Neighbours heard an argument and then gun shots. When all went quiet, they decided maybe calling the police would be a wise move. Police showed up at about 1:00am to discover the man with three bullet holes in the back of his head.
Jasmine felt ill. Somehow, she sensed what was coming. She wanted to stop reading, but knew she couldn’t. He was identified as Mr Timothy Rogers – forty-eight years old – a lifelong resident of Avalon. The article continued: ‘Tim’ as he was known to those close to him, had worked at Avalon Laboratory Industries for ten years before retiring. He had spent the last decade tutoring at the Avalon Community College.
“He wasn’t only tutoring, he had been keeping himself busy by being paranoid about the world,” Jasmine added. He had been so very alive when they had shared a coffee only a few days ago. She blamed herself for the murder, because she knew who was responsible. The people that had pulled the trigger had been the very people she had been trying to uncover.
She wanted to take back the meeting. She reasoned that they must have followed her or been tapping either one of their phones.
Somehow, they knew he had spoken to her, knew that he had said too much. Knew he must die rather than be a witness and spout off about his paranoid view of the world.
Ironically, as it turns out, he wasn’t paranoid at all. He had good reason to think they were watching and tracking him. He had a right to be scared of them and he had a right to be worried about what they might do to him. In the end, he had succumbed to exactly what
he had expected of them.
Jasmine wondered if she was going to be the next headline: ‘Woman Found Dead in Boyfriend’s Mansion’.
A chill ran down her spine and goose bumps appeared on her arms from some imaginary cold breeze. She tried to push the thought out of her head. She made up her mind to go to Tim’s funeral. That was the least she could do for him now.
She started thumbing through the newspaper, more to take her mind off the front page than anything else. She glanced at all the headlines. More bad news on nearly every page. She flicked to page eleven and her stomach started churning again. Another headline she didn’t want to see: ‘Prominent Lawyer: Victim of Abuse’.
She looked at the author, Chester Rake. She read through the article with dread, hoping in vain that it was about any other prominent lawyer except Cynthia Storm. She couldn’t take any more bad news today. Sure enough though, Chester was spilling the beans
on the Storms. What was worse, he was relying on a source, ‘School friend of their only daughter Rebecca Storm…’ Jasmine knew exactly whom he was referring to and she that Becky would work it out too.
Everything in the article was purely made up from the snippets of information he had overheard the previous day. He had taken so much liberty that it really belonged in the fiction section at the library. He told all about the abuse, from hitting and punching, to being locked up in their secret torture room. Apparently, everyone in their circle knew about it, but wouldn’t speak up because of fear of retaliation from Raymond Storm. “Just one look from him would strike stone cold fear into even the hardest individual” Chester had quoted.
As soon as she had read the article, she closed the newspaper and put it down. She couldn’t take any more doom and gloom, especially when she had woken up with such a positive outlook on the day. She looked at the phone to see if she had missed a call from Becky yet – it was blank. It would only be a matter of time before she caught up with her. Jasmine hoped she wasn’t a big reader. Maybe she wouldn’t even pick up a newspaper – it was wishful thinking.
She unstacked the dishwasher, grateful for the distraction. She was planning to put together everything she had unravelled and go to the police in Cliffton, but now she wasn’t sure if she had the nerve. They might think she was just a paranoid psycho. She had thought long and hard about what she needed to do with the information. She couldn’t go to the Avalon police because the chief was implicated in the whole mess by owning a part of the labs.
She considered going to the media, laying it all out for them to expose, but decided against it. Most probably, they would only be looking for a story and not about real justice. She had come to the conclusion that she should go to the Cliffton police, purely by a process of elimination.
As she was wiping down the bench, she heard a knock on the front door. Her heart skipped a beat and her stomach dropped to the floor.
She paused in mid-swipe, alarm bells ringing in her ears. Her mind raced with who it could be and whether she should answer it or not. Her world stood still for a few seconds.
“Jasmine Parker! I know you’re in there! You answer this door or I will bang it down!” Becky Storm yelled as she continued to rap on the door. Jasmine started moving again. Even though she didn’t want to see Becky, it could have been much, much worse.
She approached the door, ready for a verbal – if not physical – assault as she opened it. Becky was red-faced, her eyes and mouth twisted in anger. Tears streaked down her cheeks.
“Becky, I’m sorry. It wasn’t meant to happen.”
“I told you not to tell anyone! I trusted you! Big mistake that was. If it’s the last thing I do, you are going to pay for this!” she yelled.
“Becky, calm down. That reporter made the whole thing up. I never said anything to him about you.” Technically, she was correct, however, she thought Becky wouldn’t be one for the finer details.
“I told you only because I felt sorry for you. Now you’ve got a reporter for a boyfriend, you just wanted to spout off about how clever you are. Didn’t you?” Jasmine didn’t answer, hoping she would run out of steam soon enough. “You know he’s only going out with you because you’re a cheap slut. Don’t you? Do you really think anyone would want to be seen with a poor little or
phan girl?”
“Becky, I’m sorry. What more can I say? I didn’t tell the reporter anything about what you told me.”
“I haven’t told anyone else apart from you about it. What, do you think it was my imaginary friend that tattled? You are nothing but a cheap whore and I don’t want to see you ever again. I hope your father is dead!” Becky turned around with a hair flick and stomped down the driveway to her car. The driver’s side door was still open from when she had pulled up. She had obviously been too angry to follow normal operating procedures.
The car reversed out and the tyres squealed on the road as she sped off as quickly as possible. Jasmine closed the door, feeling as low as you can feel without putting your head in the closest oven. As much as she despised Becky, she didn’t want to see her hurt like that. No one should have to watch their dirty laundry get aired in public like that. Not even a spoilt little rich girl.
Jasmine thought about what would happen once she’d been to see the police. If Becky thought domestic abuse on page eleven of the newspaper was going to ruin her life, then she should prepare herself for a front page murder conspiracy. At least this episode was going to be short-lived. The next one might be around for a while longer.
She needed to put her notes together, so she set about the task to try to take her mind off the confrontation. Becky’s words kept replaying in her mind. ‘Cheap’, ‘Whore’, ‘Slut’. She knew Caleb wasn’t with her for those reasons, but there was always that little voice in the back of her mind, telling her it was true. In cartoons, that voice looked like the devil sitting on the left shoulder. Why was it always louder than the shining white angel on the right shoulder?
She was sure that Caleb loved her. He was with her for no other reason. After all, he had met her in college. He didn’t know her background and he certainly didn’t know that she was an easy lay.
Ashes to Ashes Page 27