by P R Ellis
‘Now, if you please I would like to be allowed to get on with our move.’
‘Yes, of course, Mrs Bunting,’ Tom replied, ‘We will speak again.’
‘I hope it is when you have discovered my husband’s killer.’
Tyler went to the door and pulled it open. He stood, holding it while Tom and Jasmine left the room.
Jasmine found herself with Tom in the corridor with the door closed behind them.
‘Well, she was glad to get rid of us,’ she said.
‘Yes. She’s quite a powerful woman isn’t she. With Tyler at her beck and call and friends handing over houses to her.’
‘And she likes the high life, here and Faringdon,’ Jasmine said, ‘which I can’t believe was supported by Molly’s. Not on the evidence in the accounts I’ve seen.’
‘Hmm. There’s more to discover I think. Let’s go and find Hamid.’ Tom headed off towards the stairs.
They walked back up the High Street towards Molly’s. Tom had his phone pressed to his ear. As they approached the burnt-out shop Hamid stepped out of a neighbour’s house.
‘Find anything?’ Tom asked as they met.
Hamid shook his head. ‘No-one I’ve spoken to saw anything that night. The neighbour who alerted the emergency services says he heard a window smashing followed by a sort of slow explosion. When he took a look, he saw the fire but that’s all.’
‘Hmm, not helpful,’ Tom commented. ‘How far did you get?’
Hamid pointed to the antique shop they were standing outside. ‘I haven’t been in there yet.’
‘Well, let’s give them a go,’ Tom said, pulling the door open and stepping inside. Jasmine followed, glancing at her watch. It was past lunchtime and she was getting concerned, but not about needing to eat.
The smell of old dust greeted them as they were approached by a grey-haired man in a tweed jacket and brown trousers.
‘May I help you,’ he said.
Tom waved his warrant card. ‘We’re police officers. Are you the proprietor?’ He pocketed his card and took out his notebook.
‘Yes. Ed Simm. That’s with two m’s. How can I help?’
‘We’d like to know if you saw anything on Tuesday evening.’
‘When the fire happened and Evelyn was killed?’ the antique dealer asked.
‘That’s right,’ Tom said.
‘I’m afraid I’d closed up and gone home,’ he answered. ‘I don’t live on the premises.’
‘Does anyone?’ Tom asked.
Simm shook his head. ‘No, we use all the rooms for storage.’
Jasmine spoke, ‘You knew Evelyn Bunting, though.’
The shopkeeper frowned. ‘I knew, him, er her; not well though.’
‘Enough to know Evelyn was transgender,’ Jasmine commented.
The man flushed slightly. ‘Well yes, didn’t everyone. Evelyn always wore dresses but when he spoke you knew immediately he was a man. We met in the street occasionally and always had a few words for each other.’
‘You didn’t meet socially or for business?’ Tom asked.
Simm shook his head. ‘Evelyn didn’t attend Chamber of Trade meetings and I never saw him or his wife at social events in Thirsbury.’
‘But you knew Mrs Bunting too,’ Tom added.
The shopkeeper shrugged, ‘Like Evelyn, we exchanged greetings in the street, but she was less friendly. A bit haughty.’
‘Do you know a Gary Nicholls?’ Jasmine asked.
‘Gary? Yes.’
‘In passing, like Mr and Mrs Bunting?’ Jasmine pressed.
‘A bit more. Gary was a customer.’
Jasmine looked around at the mixture of furniture, stuffed animals, pictures and other assorted antiques, or junk. ‘What was he interested in?’
The dealer gave a small shrug of his shoulders. ‘He said he was interested in anything relating to horse riding and carriage driving but all he bought from me were a couple of riding crops and a driver’s whip.’
Jasmine felt her heartbeat increase. ‘Did he say what he was going to do with them?’
‘Display them with the other items he had, I expect.’
‘He was a close friend of the Buntings?’ Jasmine said.
‘I don’t know. He was a partner in the business, I think.’
‘Do you know what the business was?’
Mr Simm raised his eyebrows, ‘It was a small boutique wasn’t it. Clothes. For a particular clientele.’
‘And what clientele was that?’ Tom asked.
The flush had returned to Simm’s cheeks. ‘Well, people like Evelyn I presume, transvestites.’
‘That was common knowledge, was it?’ Jasmine said.
The dealer waved his hands, ‘I should think so.’
Jasmine went on. ‘Did anyone show any concern about Molly’s clients?’
The dealer looked confused now. ‘Concern?’
‘Anger, disgust, that sort of thing.’
Simm caught on to Jasmine’s reasoning. ‘Do you mean, do I think someone, a neighbour, would set fire to the place?’
‘It’s a possibility, don’t you think?’ Jasmine said.
Now the man was affronted. ‘In Thirsbury? Never. I haven’t heard anyone comment adversely about the Buntings and their business. It wasn’t as if there were queues of trannies outside the place, clogging up the pavement. Certainly not recently.’
‘Oh, business was quiet, was it?’ Jasmine changed her line of questions.
‘Well, one tends to notice people coming and going this end of the High Street and I can’t say I’ve seen many people visiting Molly’s recently.’
‘Do you recall any of the callers?’
Simm shrugged. ‘They were all men, I think, but there wasn’t anything distinctive about them; nothing that’s stuck in my mind anyway.’
Jasmine glanced at her wrist watch. ‘Thank you Mr Simm. You’ve been very helpful,’ She started to move towards the exit. Tom and Hamid were caught off guard, gave brief farewells and hurried after Jasmine.
Jasmine paused and turned to face Simm. ‘Was Evelyn ever a customer of yours?’
The dealer shook his head. ‘Only once.’
‘Oh, what did she buy?’
‘About a month ago he bought a baseball bat I’d had in the window, nothing special.’
Jasmine was interested. ‘Did she say why she wanted it.’
Simm chuckled, ‘He said it was an expeditious precaution.’
‘She was expecting trouble? A baseball bat is a useful weapon,’ Jasmine asked.
Simm shrugged, ‘I don’t know, he never mentioned it again.’
‘Thank you,’ Jasmine said turning once again and striding to the exit.
On the pavement Tom caught Jasmine’s arm.
‘What was the rush?’
‘We’d got all we were going to get, didn’t we?’ Jasmine replied.
‘Well, yes, I suppose so. I don’t know,’ Tom muttered.
‘We know where the murder weapon came from,’ Jasmine said.
Tom nodded, ‘Presumably the bat Evelyn bought was the one used to batter her to death.’
‘Um,’ Hamid muttered.
‘Yes, Hamid?’ Tom urged the young officer to speak.
‘That means the killer didn’t bring the weapon with him.’
Jasmine smiled, ‘That’s right, Hamid. So what does that suggest?’
Hamid shook his head. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘Perhaps the murder wasn’t premeditated,’ Jasmine said. She glanced at her watch again. ‘anyway, I need to get home.’
Tom looked at his watch too. ‘Oh, you need lunch.’
‘No, Tom, I can do without lunch. Done that enough times. But there are other things I need to do – regularly, my exercises…’
There was a blank look on Tom’s face for a few moments, then realisation spread like the dawn. ‘Oh, yes, I see. Yes, Jas, your, er, exercises.’
Hamid continued to look confused by the conversation.
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nbsp; Tom went on, ‘Come on Hamid. Let’s get Jasmine home and then we can get back to the office and sort out where we’re going.’ He marched off to the police car.
‘Have you got any idea where the investigation is leading, Jas?’ Tom asked as they settled into their seats.
Jasmine buckled herself into the back seat. ‘I think it’s clear that despite what Harriet told us the business was in trouble and I think the insurance scam needs investigating further. I think Evelyn was expecting trouble from angry customers or others which is why she bought the baseball bat. Then, if Evelyn spread the petrol, who ignited it? Someone chucked something through the window that started the blaze.’
Tom nodded as he started the engine.
Jasmine continued, ‘Then there’s Gary Nicholls, a third person in the partnership who buys whips and riding crops. Were they a present for Harriet, or for Evelyn?’
‘You mean he was involved in this S and M thing?’ Tom asked spinning the wheel so that the car turned around in the road.
‘Was. He’s been paid off, remember. I wonder why?’
‘Hmm, a good question.’
‘Harriet Bunting interests me too,’ Jasmine added. ‘She seems to have little concern for Evelyn’s business yet apparently enjoys a life of dinners in posh hotels, chauffeured by a handsome young man.’
‘He was fit,’ Hamid added.
‘You noticed,’ Tom said with a chuckle. Jasmine couldn’t see the DC’s face, but the back of his neck seemed to turn a redder shade of olive. Tom eyes flicked to the mirror. ‘So, you think we need to dig into Harriet Bunting’s life a little more, Jas?’
‘I’m sure it will be educational, Tom. But let’s see what the rest of your team have come up with on those other names we had.’
Jasmine waved to the departing Mondeo then scampered into the house. Since the operation she had rigidly followed her timetable of exercises and being late made her anxious. Of course, her new vagina wouldn’t close up if she was late for one dilation, but the fear was there. She had to tend to her new anatomy; she wanted it to be fully functioning as soon as possible so that she could perform as a woman and give Viv what they both desired. She must carry out all the instructions of her doctors to the letter.
She shucked off her coat and hurried upstairs to her bedroom. The skirt was dropped to the floor and tights and knickers removed. She gave herself a wash then lay on the bed with the lube and the dilators beside her. The task was no longer painful although her flesh was still tender. She eased the largest tube into herself, gently twisting it. She took care not to push it too hard or too far. As she relaxed, the feeling of the dilator inside her became more than tolerable. A tingle in her clitoris surprised her and very carefully she touched it with a finger.
The sensation drew a gasp from her. It was an unfamiliar feeling, an almost forgotten pleasure. It had been years since she and Angela had had intercourse and just as long since she had relieved the tension of her own erect penis. Now the same tissue remodelled into a woman’s erogenous zone was making her heart beat faster, her face flushed and erotic thoughts streamed through her head.
They passed. The remaining discomfort from her surgery and the anxiety that it was still too soon took the edge off her excitement. She removed the dilator from inside her, rested back on her pillow. Sleep came unexpectedly.
She awoke. Jasmine sat up with a start. What was she doing sleeping? This was her first day back at something like work. Surely that can’t have tired her out. She was shocked, disappointed and worried. How much longer would it take to get her old self back.
What did she mean, “old self”? She was a new person now, a woman. She must not look back but ahead at the new possibilities she had. She knew what Viv would say, anyone for that matter – just over a month since major surgery was nothing. She was still in recovery. “Stop being so hard on yourself”.
Jasmine sat up. The nap had actually been refreshing. She felt full of energy now, her mind working. She got up and washed the dilators thoroughly before putting them and the lube away. This walking around with nothing on, on her lower half at least, was a new experience. Previously she had always, and that meant always, hidden her penis and testicles. Now she caught a glimpse of herself in the long mirror – no appendage but a short fuzz of re-grown pubic hair on her mound (would she have to think about trimming it to look neater?). There was just a hint of redness between her thighs; not bruising from the operation but the barely visible edges of the lips of her new vulva.
Why did Harriet Bunting spend a night in Faringdon? The facts of the case came into her mind along with the remembered conversations with Harriet, Tyler Smith, and Ed Simm, the antique dealer. Questions flooded after. Why go away without her husband? Was it anything to do with their relationship – sex, S&M, Evelyn being a sissy? Was Tyler just a chauffeur? Even Jasmine, (even?) could see that he was attractive and desirable. Where did Gary Nicholls fit in? Why Faringdon?
The last question stuck. Harriet had originally said they had gone to the Cotswolds and she had imagined somewhere like Stow-on-the-Wold, or Chipping Camden, places that were over an hour’s drive from Thirsbury. But Faringdon? It was barely in the Cotswolds at all. No distance.
Jasmine sat at her dressing table and opened up her laptop. It took a while to boot up – it was pretty old after all – but she was soon able to load a route finder website. She inputted Thirsbury to Faringdon. The result didn’t surprise her at all. Forty-one minutes with clear roads. Why spend a night away so close to home? Well, you might if you had someone special with you.
She was eager to find out what Harriet had done during her night away and an idea formed in her head. She found the phone number of the Royal Hotel, rang the hotel and then sent a text message to Viv saying, “I’m taking you out to dinner this evening – if you’ll drive.’
A glance at her watch showed that she could expect Viv home in under an hour and then they would have to set off soon for Faringdon. It was time for her to get ready and blow the cobwebs off her credit card.
10
THURSDAY 17th OCTOBER
AFTERNOON
Tom Shepherd marched into the V&SCU office with Hamid at his heels. He was pleased to see Terry Hopkins and Sasha Patel at their desks.
‘Gather round, guys. Let’s see what we’ve got.’ Tom stood by the whiteboard.
‘Where’s Jasmine?’ Sasha asked moving forward.
‘She needed a timeout. It’s still early days. You know…’ Sasha nodded while Terry made a grunt.
‘Right, well we’ve had an interesting time.’ Tom summarised their visit to the Bunting’s cellar, their conversation with Harriet Bunting, Tyler Smith and Ed Simm.
‘She’s shagging her toyboy,’ Terry said when Tom finished.
Tom nodded. ‘That is the obvious conclusion. The point is does it have any relevance to the case.’
‘She did away with her husband so she could shack up with the young bull?’ Terry offered again.
‘In which case why offer the alibi of the night in Faringdon. We can easily check that.’
‘Have we?’ Sasha Patel asked.
‘Not yet. That can be your next task Sasha.’
‘What about this fella, Nicholls?’ Terry asked, ‘Is it a ménage?’
Tom shrugged. ‘Could be. We need to speak to him. Hamid found his address. You can make contact with him Hamid.’
The young DC, nodded and looked in his notebook. Tom looked at the whiteboard checking what he had put up earlier in the day.
‘Hamid. You were also looking in to Akash Rana. Did you find him or is it her?’
‘Him. He’s the supplier of the, um, gear, that Bunting sold on to the transvestites,’ Hamid said.
‘What do you mean?’ Sasha asked.
‘The wigs, false breasts,’ Hamid was beginning to blush, ‘things to cover their genitals, even suits to make men look like women even when they are naked.’
Terry chortled, ‘Enjoy looking into that did you, Ha
mid boy.’
The Iranian detective glowered at Terry. ‘I understand that they help some transgender people feel happier with themselves.’
‘Aw, you’ve been talking to Frame haven’t you,’ Terry said.
Tom stepped in. ‘Now Terry, stop teasing. Go on Hamid. What did you find out?’
‘Rana’s business is based in Manchester. I wasn’t able to speak to him but his secretary confirmed that Molly’s was a customer.’
Tom nodded. ‘Right, well we need more on that. It looks as if the Bunting’s business was struggling. Now, Terry, Sasha, how far have you got?’
Terry opened his hand to DC Patel, urging her to speak first.
‘My two are both customers of Molly’s. I’ve spoken to both of them. Mr McLeesh had been complaining about the quality the goods he had purchased and had been trying to get his money back. As well as emailing and phoning Mr Bunting he admitted to calling at the shop a few times. He lives in Bournemouth. He’s a Scot and sounded as though he could be pretty belligerent if he wanted to be.’
‘Enough to murder, Evelyn?’ Tom asked.
Sasha shrugged. ‘I don’t know. A bit extreme, isn’t it?’
‘Still, a trip to Bournemouth may be useful,’ Tom said, ‘He may be able to give us a better picture of the business. What about the other one, er, Clement.’
‘Oh, he was completely different. Very nervous when I spoke to him. Said he’d visited the shop a few weeks ago and paid Evelyn a lot of money for the goods in advance but hadn’t received them yet.’
‘What goods?’ Tom asked.
‘One of those whole-body suits.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Terry said, ‘Blokes actually buy them.’
‘Yes,’ Sasha said, ‘They do, and Lee says he paid nearly two thousand pounds.’
Terry whistled.
‘But not received anything yet?’ Tom asked.
Sasha nodded, ‘That’s right. He’d been on to Evelyn a few times, but Evelyn had fobbed him off with saying that the suit had to be specially made for him.’
‘But meanwhile Bunting was sitting on the two thousand quid,’ Terry said.
‘No. We know the money left his account quickly,’ Tom said.
