Molly's Boudoir: the 4th Jasmine Frame novel (Jasmine Frame Detective)

by P R Ellis

  Jasmine was thinking rapidly. ‘Because we had assumed that Tyler was with Harriet Bunting the whole time. But you see, it’s actually not far from Faringdon to Thirsbury. If Tyler left as soon as you finished dinner he could be back in Thirsbury by eight-thirty or so. If he wasn’t back at the hotel before you left then he had plenty of time to do it.’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Kill Evelyn Bunting.’

  Montgomery gasped. ‘No, he wouldn’t.’

  ‘Wouldn’t he? He had the opportunity which we hadn’t thought he had. Did he have a motive?’

  Montgomery shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t know him. He hardly spoke when we met. He looked after Madame.’

  ‘How often did you meet him?’

  ‘Twice, that’s all. At my earlier appointment with Madame she had another, older man with her.’

  ‘Gary Nicholls?’

  ‘That was it.’

  ‘He knew about Harriet’s key-holding scheme?’

  Montgomery shrugged, ‘I imagine he must have done.’

  ‘Can you tell me anything else about Tyler Smith or Gary Nicholls?’

  Montgomery shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. My attention always is on Madame when I am in her presence. I’m jealous of Tyler, as I was of Mr Nicholls, because they are, or were, with Madame more often than me and administered to her desires in bed. But I knew I couldn’t take their place so fulfilling Madame’s wishes was and is my aim. Obviously, I noticed that Tyler is a much younger, fitter, more handsome man than Nicholls which perhaps explains why Madame changed the one for the other.’

  Jasmine shifted forward on her chair, about to stand. ‘Thank you, Mr Russell. You’ve been very helpful.’

  ‘My thanks to you too,’ he replied. He had a more normal colour now and appeared cheerful.

  ‘What for?’ Jasmine asked.

  ‘I didn’t think I could talk about what happened, but it has actually been a relief to describe it.’

  Jasmine was eager to follow up the information about Tyler but she couldn’t help but be intrigued by Russell’s admission. She sat back in the chair.

  ‘Why do you do it?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘All of it, wear the chastity cage, act as a slave to Harriet Bunting, allow yourself to be put through these humiliations, if that’s what they are.’

  Montgomery considered and then began to talk. ‘It is quite a long time since I had a relationship with a woman, and it wasn’t very successful, but I’m not attracted to men either. I’ve lead an almost asexual life I suppose. Except that I was finding myself aroused by my female students. I’m a history tutor. A couple of years ago there was one exceptionally pretty girl. I was afraid that I might make a fool of myself with her. I had read that wearing a cage can control desire. I bought one and fitted it to myself.’

  ‘Did it work?’

  ‘Sort of. They constrict the penis so that any slight erection is painful. Did you know that a normal, fit, mature, male has a dozen or more erections a day? It was quite a torment and sleeping was difficult at first as I am sure you can imagine. Or, perhaps a woman cannot.’

  Jasmine could imagine. Until she began her hormone treatment and before she had her testicles removed, unwanted erections had mortified her. All that was behind her now that she had no penis.

  Russell went on. ‘The body is a quick learner. The effect is like Pavlov’s dogs I suppose. It learns that arousal equals pain, so the erections stop happening.’

  ‘Completely? But you said…’

  ‘Only while you have the pressure of the cage around your cock and balls. As soon as it is released the feelings flood back as if the dam breaks. The cage controlled my feelings for my students, but I found that my willpower was weak. Often, I would use my key to release myself. Then I discovered Madame de la Clef’s service. She takes the responsibility away and now I have to work for my release. I have to please her, worship her, obey her. Only if I do all that she asks can I get any relief. Do you understand?’

  Jasmine shook her head. No, she couldn’t understand what this man was prepared to go through in order to control his desires. On the other hand, she did understand compulsive urges. She had lived with them herself for a good part of her life and she thought of the steps she had taken to fulfil her own desires – transition, divorce from Angela, the pain and recovery of her most recent operation. She felt some sympathy for the man she had persuaded to reveal his most private behaviour. Perhaps revealing something about herself would be recompense. Her shake became a nod.

  ‘Yes, Mr Russell, I think I do understand something of what you have said. Having that cage clasped around my penis would have been a torture. Giving control of my body to someone else is way outside my comfort zone, but I have been driven too.’

  Russell stared at her. ‘I thought there was something about you. Your voice, your figure. You’re transsexual, aren’t you?’ Jasmine nodded. ‘Have you had the change?’

  ‘Yes, recently. I’m still recovering.’

  ‘But you have achieved your goal?’

  Jasmine smiled, ‘Almost, there are still things in the future I suppose, and like you just mentioned, there are still giveaways that reveal my past. But I am close to being the woman I feel I am.’

  ‘Well, good luck to you. And thank you again. You have helped me re-examine my own behaviour.’

  ‘You’re going to give up wearing your cage and paying Harriet Bunting to hold the key?’

  ‘Oh, no. You’ve helped me to realise that it is the forfeits that Madame dreams up for us that make my life exciting. I’ll be looking forward to the next act that she plans for me in a month or three.’

  ‘Oh,’ Jasmine was surprised. She was angry with herself now for revealing her past. This man didn’t warrant her compassion after all. She stood up and pulled her coat back around her. ‘Thanks for the coffee. There may be further questions.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to your visit Miss Frame.’ He accompanied Jasmine to the door and let her out. Jasmine hurried up the street to the hire car.

  16

  SATURDAY 19th OCTOBER

  LATE MORNING

  Jasmine sat in the driving seat of the Micra wondering what to do. She should inform Tom Shepherd and the investigating team of her information concerning Tyler Smith, but she also had the address of Edward Wilson, Harriet Bunting’s other “slave”. She was keen to meet him to discover if he had any more titbits to tell her. She tried phoning Tom’s mobile, but the call went to voicemail. She decided on a text instead and tapped out the message:

  “Tyler Smith’s whereabouts on Tuesday evening not known; alibi not true.”

  Then she started the car and negotiated the traffic to head west with Cheltenham her next destination.

  She was travelling along the A40 when she realised that it was lunchtime. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but the time meant one thing to her now. It was time for her exercise. It had been emphasised so much to her that she must dilate her vagina regularly that it had become a need.

  She drove on through the Cotswolds and soon approached a roadside pub/restaurant, The Fox, a former coaching inn. She pulled into the car park and went inside. It was busy with most tables occupied but she found a table for two and ordered a sandwich and a glass of water. She ate quickly and having paid her bill headed into the ladies’ room. She was relieved to find that all the cubicles were unoccupied so chose the end one. She tugged down her tights and knickers. Having peed she shuffled to the edge of the loo seat and spread her legs as much as her underwear and the partition of the cubicle would allow.

  She had prepared for this eventuality by packing some lube and one of her dilators, the middle-sized one, in her shoulder bag. She couldn’t go through the full sequence but the one she had would have to be sufficient. She smeared the lubricant on the glass cylinder and carefully inserted it. She tried to avoid the involuntary groan or gasp which sometimes escaped from her when she did this at home. She didn’t want
to give the wrong idea, or any idea in fact, to other ladies who entered the loo. The full length entered and she felt it stretching the channel, but it no longer hurt her. She rotated it, slipped it in and out a few times before removing it and then repeated the operation. One more time and she was done.

  She listened carefully making sure that she was still alone. Clothing restored to respectability she stepped out and while washing her hands, cleaned the dilator. She dried it with a tissue and stuffed it in her bag just as the door opened and another woman entered. They smiled sweetly at each other and the woman went into a cubicle. Jasmine redid her lipstick and left the toilet relieved that she had done what she intended without embarrassing herself or anyone else. Before setting off again, she put Wilson’s address into the maps app on her phone and saw her route marked out for her.

  The instructions took her off the main road at the edge of the town and through the suburbs until she found herself in a narrow road with a row of semi-detached bungalows on one side. She drew up outside number eleven. There was a man kneeling beside a flowerbed in the front garden. He appeared to be digging up bulbs. Jasmine got out of the car and approached him. He was bald with a horseshoe ring of cropped hair and though older than Montgomery Russell was slimmer. He stood up as Jasmine approached.

  ‘Can I help you?’ he said in a voice that suggested he didn’t really want to. He swung the trowel he was holding by his thigh.

  ‘Mr Edward Wilson?’ Jasmine said.

  ‘Yes,’ he said guardedly, ‘Who’s asking?’

  Jasmine pulled her ID from her pocket. ‘I’m Jasmine Frame, an investigator for Kintbridge Police.’

  ‘You’re not a police officer then. That’s not a warrant card.’

  ‘No, I am assisting the police in their enquiries.’

  ‘Oh, yes. What proof do you have that you represent the police?’

  ‘Um, none in fact. I just have some questions for you.’

  ‘Questions? What about?’

  ‘Your visit to the Royal Hotel, Faringdon on Tuesday evening with Mrs Harriet Bunting.’

  He stepped towards her. The trowel was raised like a dagger pointing at her.

  ‘What do you know about that?’

  ‘I know you were there because you paid for dinner. Willy has told me what happened after dinner and I know you went dressed in drag.’

  ‘How dare you!’

  Jasmine stepped back hurriedly as he came forward waving the trowel.

  ‘I’m sorry Mr Wilson. I’m not here because of what you were doing. It’s about the murder of Mr Bunting.’

  He stopped, the trowel still raised.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I am investigating the death of Mr Bunting while you and Willy and Mrs Bunting were at the hotel; also, the fire that occurred at the premises of Molly’s, the business that Mr and Mrs Bunting own.’

  Wilson shook his head. ‘I don’t know anything about that.’

  ‘I don’t suppose that you do, Mr Wilson. Look I’m not interested in what Mrs Bunting makes you do or why you let her boss you. Willy described that to me. But I’d like to ask you some questions about her companion, Tyler Smith.’

  He took a step back from her, putting space between himself and Jasmine.

  ‘You could be anyone, a journalist. I don’t want my story all over the papers. My ex-wife would love it.’

  ‘I’m sorry Mr Wilson. If you like I’ll go away and come back with a police officer, but look at my ID. I’m a registered private investigator. I give you my word that I am working with the police to find out who killed Mr Bunting. Your information may be important.’

  Wilson looked around as if realising that his neighbours may have been watching and wondering what the fracas between him and this young woman was about.

  ‘Alright, you’d better come inside, but if I think you’re stringing me along, you’re out and it will be me reporting to the police. Got it?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Wilson, that’s fair.’

  He marched off up the driveway to the door of the bungalow. Jasmine followed. When he entered the small porch, he stamped his wellington boots on the mat, tugged them off then stepped through the inner door into a hallway. It was painted white and unfurnished with nothing on the walls at all.

  ‘That’s far enough,’ he said turning to face her. ‘Close the door.’

  Jasmine pushed the door closed.

  ‘Now what are these questions?’

  Jasmine considered how to start the conversation. ‘You arrived at the Royal Hotel in the early evening…’

  ‘Six-thirty was the time given.’

  ‘Six-thirty, and you met Mrs Bunting, her companion, Tyler Smith and Willy.’

  ‘Yes, I didn’t know Willy until after we were introduced.’

  ‘You had dinner together, and when it was finished you paid the bill.’

  ‘That is correct, although why it should be of interest I don’t know.’

  ‘It was how we were able to identify you, Mr Wilson, that’s all.’

  ‘Hmmph. Invasion of privacy.’

  ‘I’m afraid bank and credit card details are one of our means of tracking people these days Mr Wilson. Anyway, you then went up to Mrs Bunting’s room.’

  He puffed out his cheeks and did not speak.

  ‘Is that correct?’ Jasmine insisted.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can you recall what time that was?’

  ‘Not exactly. I had other things on my mind.’

  ‘I know Mr Wilson, but any idea?’

  Wilson shrugged, ‘Just after seven-thirty.’

  ‘Thank you. Now who went up to the bedroom with you?’

  ‘Mrs Bunting of course and Willy.’

  ‘No-one else. Just the three of you?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘What about Tyler Smith? What did he do?’

  Wilson looked blank. He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. He didn’t come with us that’s all.’

  ‘Do you think he stayed in the hotel or did you see him leave?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. We left him at the table. Look, I wasn’t the slightest bit concerned by what Smith was going to do while we were with Madame.’

  Jasmine smiled to show she was pleased with Mr Wilson’s cooperation. ‘Right, thank you. Now after you had been in Mrs Bunting’s room for some time you came back downstairs and left. Is that right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you know what time that was?’

  ‘No, I didn’t look at a clock. I suppose it was around nine, perhaps a bit later. I lost track of time.’

  I’m not surprised, Jasmine thought. ‘Okay. Did you speak to anyone on your way out?’

  ‘No, I went straight to the car park at the back of the hotel and drove home.’

  ‘Good. Did you see anyone?’

  ‘Willy was at the reception desk speaking to the manager or someone. I didn’t stop.’

  ‘Did you see Tyler Smith at all?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good. Thank you very much, Mr Wilson.’

  He took a step towards her urging her back to the door. ‘Is that all then?’

  ‘Almost. That’s all about Tuesday, but have you met Mr Smith before?’

  ‘I don’t know the man, but he’s been with Madame on other, er, occasions.’

  ‘How long ago do these occasions go back?’

  ‘Oh, less than a year. She had another fellow before.’

  ‘Do you know who that was?’

  ‘Gary Nicholls was his name. I never spoke to him.’

  ‘I see. When you met Mrs Bunting, Madame de la Clef, with one or other of these men did they always stay with you while you did whatever it was that Madame wanted you to do?’

  Wilson stiffened when Jasmine used Harriet’s full pseudonym and his hands formed fists as she completed her question.

  ‘Sometimes, not always.’

  ‘Did Nicholls or Smith join in the activities?’

  ‘Look, Willy may have blabbed about
Madame and what she asks of us but I’m not going to. The police can be as bad as the wankers on the papers in making private matters public.’

  ‘Okay, I understand Mr Wilson. I don’t want to embarrass you. What you get up to with Mrs Bunting is your business. I am just trying to establish if Tyler’s absence on Tuesday evening was unusual or not.’

  Wilson calmed a little. ‘Nothing was usual or unusual. He hasn’t been Madame’s toyboy for long, so I don’t know whether she normally has him with her when she tests us or not.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Wilson. I’ll let you get back to your gardening. I’m sorry to have bothered you.’ Jasmine backed to the door with Wilson hurrying her along.

  ‘I tell you, if any of this reaches the papers or my ex-wife, you and the police will be hearing from my solicitors. No harm must come to Madame.’

  Jasmine pulled the door open. ‘I understand Mr Wilson but there may be other questions we need you to answer.’

  ‘We’ll see about that.’ He pushed the door closed as she stepped into the porch.

  Jasmine returned to the car and sat in it for a few minutes. She was disappointed that Wilson had not been as forthcoming about his relationship with Madame de la Clef as Russell, but looking at the neat homes of his neighbours with their tidy gardens she could perhaps understand his need for secrecy. The buzz of gossip would be deafening if they discovered what happened on his excursions to Faringdon and elsewhere. She had confirmed however that Tyler Smith had some questions to answer regarding his whereabouts on Tuesday evening and it was time she returned to Kintbridge to pass on her news.

  Less than an hour and half later she pulled up outside her house and wondered why there was a blue and white Mini parked in the drive. She parked the Micra and walked into the house. Viv greeted her with arms around her and a kiss on her lips.

  Jasmine eased herself away from him. ‘Do we have a guest?’

  Viv shook his head, ‘No.’

  ‘What’s the Mini doing on the driveway, then.’

  A broad smile spread across his face. ‘That’s your new car. If you like it, that is.’