by P R Ellis
She had to spend time getting her face right so there was no time for breakfast before she hurried out of the flat, flinging her bag over her shoulder. As she got to her car she saw Viv also up and about. She gave him a wave, which he returned. It looked as though he was making his way towards her but she got in the Fiesta and turned the key. Miraculously, the engine started first time and she drove out of the car park leaving Viv standing looking a little bemused. She waved again and smiled, hoping that he would not think her rude to have run away from him.
The town was just getting busy and she glanced at her watch anxiously once or twice as she drove towards the Police HQ. Finding a spot in the car park, she galloped into the building through the mizzling rain, realising belatedly that arriving puffing, sweaty and rain spattered would not do her image as a confident and competent young woman much good. As it happened, she had to pause at the desk as the duty officer went through the usual rigmarole of checking that she had been invited by Chief Inspector Sloane and delegating a civilian to guide her up to the meeting room. She glanced at the clock in the vestibule as they left: 7:58.
Her escort held the door open and Jasmine stepped into the familiar room. Four rows of desks faced the large whiteboard, most of them empty, and a small group of people were clustered in the far corner looking at pictures stuck up on the corner of the board. A couple of men, Tom and the other with his back to her, sat on the corners of desks, while a woman wearing a dark blue suit stood behind a black chair occupied by DCI Sloane facing the board. A small team. Obviously Sloane had already made cutbacks.
Sloane looked towards Jasmine, but no look of welcome registered in his features as he spoke. ‘Ah, Frame. Join us.’
Tom rotated on his perch and smiled at her. Jasmine crossed the room and stood beside him.
‘Good morning,’ she said in as light and feminine tone as she could manage.
‘You know DC Hopkins, of course,’ Sloane said, waving a hand towards the other man, ‘but DC Patel has just joined us. They both know why you’re here.’ Hopkins nodded his balding head imperceptibly. He had been friendly when she was the up and coming James Frame, silent and hostile when she became Jasmine. A thin smile flickered across the face of the woman and Jasmine knew that DC Patel had most definitely been informed about her.
‘We’re reviewing the lack of progress made on this case,’ Sloane said in an irritated voice, ‘despite evidence gleaned from a partially-burned corpse and a smoke-damaged room. Perhaps you’d like to tell us what you know, Frame.’
Why had he picked on her? Jasmine wondered where Sloane wanted her to start from. She looked from one face to another until Tom rescued her.
‘We’ve already talked about the crime scene and how Mr Newman died.’
‘Mr Newman? You mean Xristal?’ Jasmine said.
‘The victim was male. It says so on his bank account, medical records, passport,’ Hopkins growled.
‘But Xristal lived as a woman,’ Jasmine insisted.
‘Just because he had tits…’
‘Alright, Hopkins,’ Sloane intervened, ‘Use whichever name you like, Frame, but tell us about the victim.’
Jasmine took a deep breath and, glaring at Hopkins, began.
‘Xristal Newman was twenty-four years old and had left home six years ago. We think that since that time she has lived as a woman. Probably for most of that time she has been working as a prostitute in the company of Honey Potts. As you know, she had had cosmetic surgery to make her look more feminine but had taken no steps to lose her ability to have sex as a male. People like her are known as she-males. Young, attractive ones like Xristal are popular with those who like sex a bit out of the ordinary.’
‘Pervs.’
‘Hopkins!’ Sloane’s cheeks flushed. ‘Keep quiet if you haven’t got anything to add. Go on, Frame.’
Jasmine felt uncomfortable thinking about the sexual practices Xristal must have indulged in and angered by Hopkins’ rumbling prejudice.
‘I think the evidence shows that Xristal was dissatisfied with her life as a call girl and her position on the gender spectrum and was planning on becoming a complete woman.’
‘What do you mean?’ Sloane asked.
‘I mean she was planning to go to Thailand to get full gender reassignment surgery carried out.’
‘So she wouldn’t be a she-male anymore?’ DC Patel said quietly.
‘That’s right,’ Jasmine said, smiling warmly at her.
‘That would have stopped her from, uh, servicing her clients in the way they had become accustomed,’ Sloane said.
‘Yes,’ Jasmine almost added ‘sir’ but stopped herself.
‘So did one of her clients do her in?’ Hopkins asked.
‘Perhaps,’ Jasmine shrugged.
‘This Potts person,’ Sloane said waving his hand in the direction of the photo stuck to the board, ‘Was she the pimp? Did she have a motive for the killing?’
‘Possibly,’ Jasmine nodded. ‘They appear to have been close for some time. Honey may have been controlling Xristal’s business, but she disappeared two weeks before the murder.’
‘And there have been no reports of her being seen in Kintbridge since then,’ Tom added.
‘Nevertheless, she could have gained access by stealth,’ Sloane continued.
‘Yes,’ Jasmine agreed.
Sloane pointed at another photo stuck to the board. ‘What about this Parfitt fellow we had in yesterday? Is he a suspect?’
‘Patel and I interviewed him,’ Hopkins said.
‘And?’ Sloane said, with a note of impatience in his voice.
‘He was very open about it. Keen to tell us the story.’
‘I bet.’ Jasmine said. Hopkins frowned at her.
‘He said he been looking at porn sites on his computer and came across this girl who he recognised as a neighbour.’
‘What sort of porn sites?’ Sloane asked.
‘Ones offering sex with a she-male, with a little added bondage excitement.’
‘So he went to try it out with her, did he?’ Jasmine said, ‘Or did he blackmail her, threaten to make public what she was doing?’
‘No, none of that,’ Hopkins said, ‘Parfitt says he hasn’t spoken to the, er, victim. He denied being a client or having anything to do with her.’
‘Huh. A likely story,’ Jasmine said.
‘I think he was telling the truth. He’s got a bad back.’ Hopkins insisted.
‘He’s a liar and a fraudster,’ Jasmine said, louder than she intended.
‘Whatever he is or says, he is still a suspect,’ Sloane said, ‘If he has been in the flat then forensics may find evidence of it. Perhaps he has a motive as a frustrated client, or as Frame says, as a potential blackmailer. What about this website he found Newman on?’
‘He says he deleted it,’ Hopkins said.
‘But we’ve impounded the computer and we should be able to trace it,’ Patel added.
‘Good,’ Sloane said, ‘and that could lead us to other clients. So are there any others? Anybody else that knew Newman.’
‘The only other people we know about are the ground floor neighbour, Tilly Jones, and the Taylors, the landlords,’ Tom said.
‘Are they suspects?’
‘I can’t see a motive,’ Tom shook his head.
‘The Taylors may be more involved in the prostitution than they admit,’ Jasmine said, ‘After all, they must have realised that the source of income of all three of their tenants in Bredon Road was sex.’
‘I suppose that keeps them in the picture,’ Sloane nodded. ‘It seems we have three lines of enquiry. Following up the clients on the website, including Parfitt, is one. Finding this Potts person is the second, and tying up the loose ends with the landlords and any other acquaintances is the third. I can’t give you any more personnel, so I suggest you get on with it.’ Sloane pushed himself out of the chair and strode out of the room.
‘Well, that’s it, isn’t it?’ Hopkins said, standin
g and stretching, ‘We can’t do anything until the boffins have finished stripping Parfitt’s computer.’
‘Why do you say that?’ Jasmine asked.
‘Stands to reason. Potts did it. Fell out with her pupil or something, came back and killed him. But he’ll probably be on the same website, so we’ll have him. Let’s have a coffee while we wait. You coming, Tom?’
‘I think you’ve got it wrong,’ Jasmine said.
‘Where’s you evidence?’
‘I haven’t got any, but I have a feeling…’
‘Feminine intuition is it?’ Hopkins sneered. ‘Comes with the drugs you take, does it?’
Jasmine felt the heat rise up her neck and into her face.
‘OK, Terry,’ Tom said, reaching out his hands in a calming gesture. ‘Go and get your coffee, while I work out who does what. You too Sasha, if you like.’
Hopkins nodded to Patel and they left silently.
‘Hopkins still doesn’t like me, does he?’ Jasmine said.
‘Diversity training didn’t take too well with Terry, although he gets on OK with Sasha.’
‘So, it’s just me then is it? He feels I’m threatening his masculinity somehow.’
‘Yeah, well, he’s a bit stuck in a rut. Still a DC in his forties and moving from one team to another. But he’s a good cop.’
‘He let Parfitt off pretty lightly.’
‘Do you think he did it?’
‘Hmm,’ Jasmine was thoughtful. It would be easy to hope that Parfitt, someone known to them, was the murderer. He was aggressive – her bruised chin was a testament to that. He was scheming – his benefits scam was evidence - but a killer? It didn’t feel right. ‘I think we need to keep him on the list, but I’m not sure.’
‘I’ll get Hopkins and Patel to go back and ask the neighbours if they ever saw Parfitt and Xristal together or saw him visit her flat.’ Tom said.
‘That will do his reputation a lot of good, when it comes out, along with him being had up on a charge of benefits fraud.’
‘He’s not going to be a happy bunny.’
‘Serves him right.’ Jasmine didn’t usually gloat about the criminals she had nabbed but her tender chin made this one personal.
‘So, what do we do about Potts? She or he looks as though they’re top of the suspect pile.’ Tom was thoughtful.
‘I’m going to have to search the web, the trannie porn and sex sites, to see if she pops up.’ Jasmine said, wrinkling her nose.
‘Fun for some.’
‘With all the drugs I’m taking fighting each other, my chances of having fun are about zero. I think I’m more likely to feel sick than sexy.’
‘Well, you know what to look for.’
‘Perhaps. What about the landlords, the Taylors?’
‘Do you think they’re suspects?’
‘Well, they weren’t entirely helpful the first time we spoke to them. I’m sure they must have known what their three tenants in Bredon Road were up to.’
‘Let’s go and ask them some more questions. Push them a bit more. Then you can get back in front of your computer and look at pictures of she-males. ’
‘Thanks.’
‘I’ll just leave instructions for Hopkins and Patel.’
Jasmine pulled up behind Tom’s Mondeo outside the impressive entrance of the Taylors’ house and joined him at the door. There was a wait of a couple of minutes before the door was opened. It was Marilyn Taylor again who greeted them. As before, she was dressed in a simple but elegant blouse and skinny leather trousers.
‘Oh, it’s you two. What do you want?’
‘We have some more questions, Mrs Taylor,’ Tom said in his polite, official voice.
‘My husband is out,’ Mrs Taylor pushed the door closed. Tom put a foot against it. She glared as the door stopped.
‘I think you can answer the questions as easily as your husband, Mrs Taylor, as you are apparently joint owners of the property.’
There was silence for a moment as Mrs Taylor seemed to be considering what to do. Finally she let out a sigh and pulled the door open again.
‘All right, but I haven’t got much time. We still have tenants who are due to pay their rents today.’ She stepped back and again led the way through the hallway to the lounge.
‘Do you visit all your properties, Mrs Taylor?’ Tom asked.
‘Some. Occasionally.’
She stood in the centre of the lounge and indicated the chairs that Tom and Jasmine should sit on. Once they were seated she positioned herself in the centre of the sofa.
‘So you are able to see what your tenants are doing in your properties?’
From the sneer that appeared on Mrs Taylor’s face Jasmine could tell that Tom was not going to trip her up that easily.
‘We don’t inspect the properties on every visit, Sergeant, we merely call to collect the rent from the few tenants that pay cash. Some of our tenants appreciate what we do for them and invite us in, but for the most part the transaction is done on the doorstep. There is no need for my husband or me to enter.’
‘You would need to know if any tenants were damaging your property?’
‘We would inspect a property if a tenant gave notice. Any damage would be deducted from the deposit before it was returned to the tenant.’
‘But not in the case of Honey Potts, I gather?’
Jasmine smiled as Tom elicited a pause and a frown from Mrs Taylor.
‘She broke her contract by not giving notice. She will find it difficult to get another rental in this area, I can tell you, and there will be a debt recovery agency after her.’
‘Do you insist you had no idea what your three flats in Bredon Road were being used for?’ Tom continued.
‘Used for?’
‘Entertaining clients who paid for sex.’
‘Certainly not. I told you that before.’
‘Ah, but we have further evidence that the flats occupied by Tilly Jones, Honey Potts and Xristal Neman, were being used for that purpose. There is every chance of you and your husband being charged with living off immoral earnings at the very least. It would be better if you tell us all that you know now.’
Mrs Taylor took three deep breaths and then pulled herself up straight. She looked straight at Tom. ‘I can assure you we had nothing to do with the careers of those three, uh, women and we took only what was agreed as the rent for the properties.’
‘But you knew that Honey and Xristal were she-males?’ Jasmine asked.
‘You asked me that before. Are you obsessed with them?’
‘You didn’t find their behaviour disgusting?’
‘I knew nothing of their behaviour, disgusting or otherwise.’
‘But you met both of them, particularly Honey. Didn’t you find their appearance out of the ordinary?’
‘Isn’t that rather prejudiced? These days, landlords are not allowed to discriminate. It was no interest to us how our tenants want to present themselves.’
‘Really. No interest at all? Two big-boobed, pouting tarts. They didn’t make you wonder at all?’
‘You really do have something against these she-males or whatever you call them.’ Mrs Taylor’s gaze ran up and down Jasmine’s body. ‘Your colleague said you were an advisor not a police officer. What exactly are you advising on?’
Jasmine wondered how she should answer such a direct question.
‘The murder victim was transgender.’
Mrs Taylor spoke in a voice that was almost a hoarse whisper, ‘And they picked you because you are too?’
Jasmine felt herself flushing, ‘Yes.’
‘So are you like them? Do you have false breasts and a penis? Are you taking your pills?’ There was a nasty smile on Mrs Taylor’s face now. Jasmine knew that she was enjoying seeing her squirm with embarrassment.
‘I’m a woman,’ Jasmine insisted.
‘Huh. You may call yourself a woman,’ spat Mrs Taylor, ‘but you’re not.’
‘Right, that’s all
the questions we have for now,’ Tom said rising quickly to his feet. ‘We’ll be going, but I remind you that given the nature of this inquiry there may well be further questions and possibly charges.’
As Mrs Taylor stood up, Jasmine was struck by how slim she was with a pert but not too large bust. It was figure she aspired to.
‘My husband and I are not scared by your threats, Sergeant. We have nothing to hide.’ She shooed them out like a sheepdog snapping at ducks, and shut the door firmly behind them.
‘Well, that went well – not.’ Tom said, frowning at Jasmine, ‘Why the hell did you let her wind you up like that?’
‘I don’t know,’ Jasmine said. She felt stupid and miserable. ‘I know at the moment I give myself away to people that look closely. That will change, I hope, when I’ve had the surgery and the hormones have taken their full effect.’
‘But that wasn’t what started it. You pushed her about the she-males.’
‘I know. I’m convinced she must have been interested in Honey and Xristal. There’s something about her. I’m sure she was more involved with Honey and Xristal than she’s let on.’
‘Well, we haven’t got any more evidence yet. And that’s what we need. Real evidence of who did know Xristal and where Potts is now.’
‘I’ll get right on it.’ Jasmine hurried to her car, unwilling to spend any more time on the Taylors’ property or speak to Tom when she felt she had behaved like an inexperienced trainee. She got into the Fiesta. On the third twist of the key the engine started and she pulled out around Tom’s car while he was still belting up.
