by P R Ellis
‘Just eight left then,’ Tom said. ‘Oh, one other thing. It may be relevant.’
‘What’s that?’
‘We’ve been in touch with Vokins’ bank. He wasn’t very well off, in fact, he was right at the top of his overdraft. It looks as though his sources of income had dried up.’
‘His pension?’
‘And investments.’
Jasmine wondered how Vokins’ financial difficulties could be a factor in his murder. ‘Being depressed about his finances could have been a reason for suicide if we didn’t know he’d been murdered,’ she mused.
Tom replied, ‘Well, we’ll get hold of his bank statements and give them a closer look. I’ll let you know what else leaps out of these cards.’
‘You do that. I’m going to have a doze before the evening’s fun starts.’
‘Ah, the Butterfly Ball.’
‘That’s right, a whole dining room full of guys in gowns, and guess who the entertainment is.’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘Honey Potts!’
Tom gasped obviously finding the news as surprising as Jasmine had. ‘Honey. . . not the Honey Potts from the Newman case?’
‘The very same.’
‘How did she get involved?’
‘One of those coincidences. Belinda needed a drag act and Honey was available.’
‘Well, I’ll be. Has she seen you?’
‘Yes. She took the part of the vicar at the wedding.’
‘God, no,’ Tom laughed. ‘Did she recognise you?’
‘Yes, but don’t worry, she was discreet. We had a chat and she won’t let my identity out.’
‘Good. We need to keep your cover going till the end of this weekend.’
‘That could be difficult. It won’t take much to make the Belles suspicious of me. They can’t understand how Vokins supposedly let me join so late. Apparently, it is very out of character.’
‘So I’m learning. He was an obsessive organiser. Look I must get on with going through these cards and his computer. I’ll let you know as soon as I have anything interesting. Enjoy the Ball.’
‘Thanks,’ Jasmine said as the phone went dead. She leaned back on the headboard feeling less tired than she had but now she felt impatient. It was still a couple of hours before all the Belles and the Butterflies met for the dinner and ball. What could she do in the meantime? One thought came to her and she picked up her phone again. She pressed a quick-dial key. The phone rang for a few moments before it was answered by the familiar Birmingham/Caribbean tones of Viv.
‘Hi, Jas,’ he said, ‘how are you getting on?’
‘Not well at the moment. No real leads. I’ve got a short while before the next opportunity and I wanted to hear your voice.’
‘That’s nice of you.’
‘I’m sorry I’m missing the weekend we planned.’
‘So am I, but it can’t be helped. You’ve got to work.’
Perhaps she had to, but the pleasure of being a girl with her bloke was one she was surprised to find she was missing. When she started her transition and knew it meant splitting from Angela she hadn’t expected to find someone who was interested in her or to form another relationship. But Viv was and they had. Previously, she’d thought she had been a heterosexual man. As a woman, she had expected to be a lesbian. Perhaps it was the hormones or perhaps it had been in her from the start, but she was discovering that she was at least bi with a sexual interest in men; perhaps it was just Viv. She was impatient for her transition to be complete so that they could share the intimacy that she desired and she was sure that Viv wanted. That seemed impossible while she had the bits dangling between her legs. Nevertheless, Viv was loving and patient. So far there had only been kissing and fumbling under clothes but even that limited contact had filled Jasmine with love and lust for the man.
‘What have you been doing?’ she asked.
‘Oh, I kept the appointments with the estate agents I planned. At least I’ve made it simpler for you. A few of the places weren’t suitable but there are a couple we can look at together.’
Moving into a home together seemed like a dream to Jasmine but it was one that Viv was pursuing enthusiastically. She would be delighted to get out of her pokey, cold flat and sharing with Viv would be a pleasure whether as partners or just friends. Viv seemed to planning on the former.
‘There were a couple you liked?’ Jasmine said.
‘Yes. Both have got lovely master bedrooms with ensuite and plenty of wardrobe space for all your clothes.’
Jasmine giggled. ‘I haven’t got much.’
‘You will have. I can see you in all sorts of smart outfits.’
Jasmine trembled with the thrill of the thought.
‘Perhaps a wedding dress too,’ Viv added.
‘After today, I’m not sure that’s a pleasure to look forward to.’
‘You didn’t enjoy it?’
‘I felt like a sham. It was a sham. Half a dozen of us tarted up to look like brides. They’d all spent enough on their outfits but a couple of them still looked like middle-aged blokes in dresses. It was a bit like a Moonie mass wedding. Ugh.’
‘I’m not sure I can imagine it.’
‘Don’t bother.’
‘I gather it’s over now?’
‘Yes. Next is the Ball with all the other trannies. And tomorrow is the real wedding of two of the Belles.’
‘Well, I hope that is more fun.’
‘Yes, but the point is I need to find the murderer, preferably before Melody and Gerald’s wedding. I don’t want to spoil their occasion by unmasking the killer in the middle of it.’
‘What if it’s one of them?’
‘Ah. Perhaps it is. I hope not. They’re a lovely couple. I suppose I ought to get on and think over what I’ve learned, little though it is.’
‘Well, I’m thinking of you, Jas. Take care and I’m looking forward to you coming home tomorrow.’
Four sharp taps sounded on the door.
‘Got to go, Viv. There’s someone at the door.’ Jasmine stabbed “end call” and pushed herself awkwardly off the bed, her legs entangling in the long gown. She staggered to the door and opened it. DC Patel was standing there.
‘Oh, hello, Sasha.’ Jasmine peered up and down the corridor checking that no-one was observing their meeting. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Can I come inside?’ Sasha asked, also glancing in both directions.
‘Of course.’ Jasmine stepped back and Sasha stepped inside the room allowing the door to swing closed.
‘I’ve just been talking to Tom. He said you’ve got the missing keycard.’ The DC’s expression made it sound as if this was a tremendous breakthrough.
‘I have. Tammy Walsh found it in her bag.’
‘Can I have it? We can get it checked for fingerprints.’
Jasmine hurried to pick up her bag from where she had dropped it beside the bed. ‘Of course. Have you got a bag?’
Patel produced a clear plastic bag from the pocket of her jacket. ‘Here.’
Jasmine pulled the card carefully from her bag taking care to only touch its edges. She dropped it in the bag that Patel held open.
‘It will have my fingerprints I’m afraid,’ Jasmine said, ‘and Tammy’s. I hope they don’t obscure the killer’s.’
‘You don’t think Walsh is a suspect,’ Patel said.
‘No. Her reaction when this card wouldn’t work and she found her own in her bag seemed genuine. There was no reason to stage the discovery of the card when she did. I think someone else dropped it in her bag.’
‘When? Who?’
‘Hmm. That’s difficult.’ Jasmine sat on the bed and pondered. ‘Tammy had the bag with her throughout the wedding ceremony but there was a time before it started when I think she left it on a table in the seminar room, and she may have put the bag down during the reception.’ Jasmine closed her eyes trying to revisit the memories of the last few hours. Did Tammy have her bag with her while
they were talking? No, Jasmine didn’t think she did.
‘Yes. There were certainly occasions when someone could have slipped the keycard into her bag unnoticed. But who, I don’t know. There were only the brides and Gerald Salter in the seminar room but of course everyone else was at the reception.’
‘So no clues?’
‘No,’ Jasmine said, the regret obvious, ‘but I’ll encourage Tammy to mention it later when we’re with the others. She was surprised to find it so I’m sure she will like to talk about it. Perhaps the killer will show themselves in their reaction.’
‘A long shot, Jasmine,’ Patel said looking doubtful.
‘They’re all long shots at the moment. I haven’t got anything else to go on. What are you doing?’
‘Now your reception is over I thought I’d call on each of the Belles and ask a few general questions about Vokins. What his mood was like before he died, that sort of thing.’
‘Good idea. It might stir them up a bit and make them a bit edgy later when we get together.’
Patel began to move towards the door. ‘It gives me a reason for calling on you too.’
‘Yes, although of course I arrived long after Vokins died. Oh, don’t worry if you don’t get a reply. Some of them may be sleeping off the afternoon booze and the two gay chaps may be busy.’
Patel smiled. ‘I’m prepared for anything.’ She reached the door and left.
Jasmine remained sitting on the bed, thinking. Something she had said had left a thought in her head, but what was it? It was no good; it wouldn’t come. She got her notebook out of her larger handbag and began to write notes on each of the Belles and their partners. Perhaps if she wrote down her impressions of each and the contact they had had so far then something might leap out at her.
Jasmine spent well over an hour immersed in her task until she realised that time was moving on. The window of her room had long since turned dark when she glanced at her watch. It was only half an hour till they were all supposed to meet – for yet more drinks. Jasmine put her notebook and pen down and got up to look in the mirror. As she suspected, her face needed repairs. She went into the bathroom, cleaned off all the makeup, striving as hard as she could to avoid marking her wedding dress. When she looked in the mirror again with her face devoid of foundation, she was disappointed to see the patch on her upper lip was still red from the electrolysis. She would have to make sure it was covered but she knew that as it was still sore she was unconsciously rubbing it and wiping off the concealer. She set herself to rebuilding her pretty features.
Finally, she re-positioned the wig on her head and looked at herself in the full-length mirror in the bedroom. She had to admit that the wedding dress still made her look very feminine and attractive. It was a pity that it was a wedding dress and couldn’t be worn at other occasions. At least, she didn’t think she could, not now, not after the pantomime of today’s event. She sighed, picked up her bag and her own keycard and left the room.
17
As she checked that her door was locked, a number of people walked passed her, singly and in pairs. They were all women, or to be accurate, looked like women, but Jasmine was startled by the variety and complexity of their dress. She had thought that the Butterfly Ball was just a dinner-dance with entertainment and that the guests would be wearing ball gowns – colourful and elegant, some lampshade-like of course, but nothing more. Instead the ladies that passed her, saying good evening and looking intently at her own dress, seemed to be in costumes from various periods. There was a passable imitation of Queen Elizabeth I at her coronation, and another in Victorian high fashion, bustle included. On the other hand, one tall, slim lady went by in what seemed to be a genuine 1960s mini-dress with white pvc boots.
Jasmine followed them towards the bar and lounge where the ladies were gathering. It was already pretty full and the noise level had risen so that everyone was having to shout their conversation. A male waiter stood at the door holding a tray of champagne flutes filled with sparkling wine. Jasmine took one and entered the mêlée.
Amongst the fashions of various periods, styles and colour she looked for the white gowns of the Belles. She got a glimpse of a familiar dress and weaved through the press of bodies until she came to Flamboyancé and Robbie with Melody and her partner. She barely recognised Gerald as she was now Geraldine dressed like her fiancé in a 1950’s prom dress with a wide circular skirt.
‘Ah, here is the enigmatic Sindy. The mystery guest,’ Flamboyancé shouted. The other three seemed unable to hear the welcome. Jasmine raised her glass and smiled as if Flamboyancé had greeted her with a simple welcome. She would have to deal with the drag queen with care if she wasn’t to penetrate her cover.
‘I thought it was an ordinary ball,’ she said loudly enough to be heard by the four Belles.
‘There’s never anything ordinary about the Butterfly Ball,’ Melody shouted back. ‘The theme is fashion through the ages.’
‘All ages,’ Geraldine added. ‘We’re the jive era.’
Melody nodded and continued, ‘Of course, we normally wear our wedding dresses but this year is different so we decided to wear something else for a change.’
Robbie was different too. He stood out as the only person in male dress packed into the bar. He was still wearing the morning suit in which he had “married” the six brides earlier in the day. Flamboyancé stood by his side with one hand holding her glass and the other gripping his bottom.
Jasmine leaned towards Robbie and bawled, ‘You don’t feel the urge to dress en femme?’
He shook his head. ‘I leave the flouncing around in drag to Flambo.’ Jasmine saw that even amongst the various extravagant costumes of the Butterflies, Flamboyancé’s bloody-vagina-spotted dress was drawing attention.
‘Ah, there’s Donna and Emma,’ Geraldine said looking over the crowd. ‘Shall we join them?’ As he spoke the whole congregation moved towards the exit, threatening to cause a crush.
‘Too late,’ Flamboyancé said, ‘The rush to the dining hall has begun.’
Jasmine was borne along with the rest of the crowd out into the foyer and towards the wide-open doors of the hall. The party fanned out as they entered the large, brightly lit room laid out with dozens of circular tables around a dance floor.
‘Where is our table?’ Jasmine asked, tagging along behind Melody and Geraldine.
‘You don’t need to look at the plan to find ours,’ Melody said. The bulk of the guests headed in their pairs and threes and fours for the tables set with six places each but Jasmine noticed that Melody was striking out for a larger oval table towards the back of the room. As they approached it Jasmine did a quick count and confirmed that there were eleven place settings, one for each of the Wedding Belles.
‘Here we are,’ Melody said, ‘Our very own table.’ They circled the table looking for their names typewritten on folded cards placed where the plates and dishes would soon be put. Jasmine found hers, pulled her chair out and was about to sit when she noticed that everyone else was still standing. She looked around feeling embarrassed. The rest of the Belles had joined them; Sally in her wheel chair was pushed by Petula into her place where the chair had already been removed. Jasmine had Flamboyancé on her left and Samantha on her right.
Although the noise level was lower than in the cramped bar, there was still a hubbub of conversation, but it gradually faded. Jasmine saw Belinda take the stage wearing something that Queen Victoria may have worn before she went into mourning. Belinda approached a microphone stand. The room fell silent.
Belinda spoke in a slightly shaky voice, showing that she was not accustomed to speaking to a massed assembly. ‘Welcome, Ladies, to the Butterfly Ball. My, you all look wonderful tonight. I’m looking forward to seeing those of you who wish to come on stage to show off your outfits. And of course, we have entertainment from the glamorous Havana Goodthyme. But that’s all later. First, we have the wonderful food, so I’ll ask you to take your places and let the evening commen
ce.’
The whole gathering cheered and clapped. There was much rustling of silk and satin and taffeta and other textiles as each lady took her seat. The buzz of chatter began again and waiters and waitresses emerged from doors bearing plates. Samantha quickly filled her wine glass from one of the bottles on the table then passed it on to her neighbour, Donna. The bottle continued to move slowly round the table. Jasmine found that with all the conversations taking place she could not hear anyone speak beyond Samantha or Flamboyancé.
A young waitress moved between her and Flamboyancé and placed a small plate in front of her. There was some sort of paté, Melba toast and a few sprigs of watercress on it. Jasmine reached for her knife and fork as the waitress moved away.
Flamboyancé leaned close to her and said in an almost inaudible voice, ‘Who are you, Sindy? What are you doing here?’
Jasmine turned to look at her, her heart thumping. ‘That’s my name. When I’m female anyway. I told you earlier I’m here for the Belles.’
Flamboyancé smiled although it was more of a grimace. ‘Come off it Sindy. We had the joke earlier but I watched you through the ceremony and the reception. You didn’t act like the wedding was the achievement of a dream for you. Oh, you looked, you do look, fantastic. That dress fits you beautifully, but, well, you don’t seem like the rest.’
Jasmine laughed, but not with humour. ‘You can talk. You’re hardly a normal member of the Belles. Whatever normal is.’
Flamboyancé sniggered. ‘That’s just the point. All the others are cross-dressers. Even Melody was before she decided to go all the way. I’m a queen. Valerie didn’t like gays and didn’t like me. She didn’t want me in the group. She tried to stop me joining and that just made me want to join even more and in the end she couldn’t find a reason to exclude me – and she needed my money. But you see I’m the outsider. I do outrageous things and annoy the others but I watch them. You’re the same. You’ve been watching every one of us.’
‘I’m new. I need to know how to behave,’ Jasmine said trying to explain herself.
