The Brides' Club Murder: the 3rd Jasmine Frame novel (Jasmine Frame detective)

by P R Ellis

  ‘And of course, as Treasurer you know where all the money goes.’

  Donna frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  Jasmine was a little surprised by Donna’s affronted question. ‘Well, you know how much the weekend costs to put on and how much everyone has to pay.’

  Donna huffed. ‘Of course.’

  ‘And Valerie relied on you to keep the Belles in the black.’

  A frown creased Donna’s forehead. ‘Uh, um, yes. What are you getting at, Sindy?’

  Jasmine smiled sweetly. ‘So, it must have been you that persuaded Valerie that the real wedding was a good idea.’

  Donna looked confused. ‘Well, yes, I suppose it was.’

  ‘She didn’t mind you pressing her?’

  Donna stared up at Jasmine, her eyes searching Jasmine’s face. ‘You’re very interested in Valerie’s state of mind, Sindy?’

  ‘Well, I was wondering what pushed her into killing herself.’ Jasmine wondered if she had perhaps gone too far in suggesting that Donna might have influenced Vokins’ supposed suicide. The growing redness in Donna’s cheeks confirmed that she had hit a nerve.

  ‘She wasn’t suicidal the last time we spoke. Not at all. In fact, she . . .’

  Emma tapped Donna’s hand. ‘Don’t get worked up, darling. It’s in the past. Vokins isn’t here anymore.’

  Donna subsided. ‘You’re right, my love.’

  ‘I think I’d like to go up now, darling. I’ve had enough of this.’ She nodded towards the stage but Jasmine wondered whether it was her questioning she had heard enough of. Donna fussed over his wife, helping her out of her chair and escorting her away from the table.

  Jasmine circled back to her place.

  ‘Whass wrong wiv Don an’ Em,’ Samantha slurred.

  ‘Emma’s tired,’ Jasmine replied as she sat down.

  The procession of ladies onto the stage seemed to be coming to an end. Belinda invited any ladies who had held back out of shyness to take the stage but no more answered the challenge. Belinda then encouraged the audience to welcome Havana Goodthyme back to the stage. The tune familiar to trannies everywhere, “The Timewarp” from The Rocky Horror Picture Show, began to cheers from around the room. The curtains drew back and Honey Potts stomped to the front of the stage in her sparkling red platform thigh boots, red sequinned leotard and towering golden hair.

  19

  Jasmine enjoyed Honey Potts’ performance as she blasted through a set of power ballads interspersed with humorous asides full of innuendo. The audience enjoyed it too and begged for more when Honey reached the end. She returned for an encore then departed. There was barely a moment of quiet before the DJ got to work. The familiar Beejees’ tracks drew ladies to the dancefloor. Flamboyancé dragged Robbie to his feet and soon they were in each other’s arms jiggling gently. Samantha too, staggered to her feet and taking Tammy’s hand lead her to the now crowded dance area. Whether she needed Tammy to lean on or there was some other attraction, Jasmine wasn’t sure. Geraldine and Melody soon joined the throng, their 50s skirts swirling as they attempted to jive regardless of the music.

  Jasmine moved around the table to sit next to Petula and Sally.

  She had to shout over the music to make conversation. ‘They’re enjoying the dance.’

  Petula stared at her as if looking for something. ‘You don’t want to join them, Sindy?’

  Actually, Jasmine had always enjoyed everything from disco-dancing to more recent dance styles, whether it was with Angela or with Viv. Both her partners moved with ease and grace making the dance a joy but she wasn’t tempted to get up on her own and the long, wedding gown did not allow the freedom of movement she was used to.

  ‘No, I’ll just watch I think,’ she replied.

  ‘You are an oddity,’ Petula said, ‘I think your presence is proof that Valerie was losing it in the last few days.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jasmine said, intrigued by Petula’s revelation.

  ‘You have already heard our opinion that accepting you at such a late stage was quite out of character for Valerie, and to prepare you so poorly, for example for the wedding ritual, was really not her at all. I imagine that she had already decided to end her life and knew that she would not be here to see the consequences of allowing you to join us.’

  ‘You think that Valerie Vokins was suicidal for some time?’ Jasmine said.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that, but she has been showing signs of her age. I am sure she realised that the time was coming when she would have to hand over control of the Belles.’

  To you, I presume, Jasmine thought. ‘You think that was sufficient to push her into doing herself in?’ she said.

  ‘It must have been. She’s dead, isn’t she?’

  ‘But why do it at the start of the weekend? Why not wait until it was over and she had had the pleasure of another triumph.’

  Petula appeared confused. ‘Ah, I don’t know. Perhaps she had doubts about it being a triumph.’

  ‘You mean, because Melody’s and Gerald’s wedding tomorrow wasn’t part of her plan?’

  Petula’s eyes narrowed. ‘Perhaps that was part of the reason.’

  ‘How did you expect Valerie to react to the magnificent wedding cake you provided?’

  Now Petula frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, you say she was very controlling and wasn’t good with surprises, yet you arranged to deliver the cake secretly. Surely you guessed she wouldn’t be overjoyed by your initiative.’

  Petula flustered, ‘Well, it was a surprise, of course it was, but I did it for Valerie not to spark off one of her dictatorial rants. I thought the anniversary of the group and Valerie’s vital role in it needed celebration.’

  ‘But if you were already concerned about her state of mind…’

  ‘Why are you so concerned about Valerie?’ There was a red flush on Petula’s face now, ‘You didn’t know her. You never had to put up with her domineering, secretive, rude behaviour. Now I think it is about time I took Sally up to our room. This noise is too much for her.’

  Petula stood up, moved behind Sally’s wheelchair, drew her back away from the table and wheeled her rapidly away from Jasmine and out of the dining room.

  Jasmine sat in her chair, apparently watching the massed ladies squashed onto the dancefloor. In fact, she was going over her interview with Petula and wondering what it revealed. Was she the murderer? Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her smart phone ringing in her small evening bag. The ringtone was only just audible above the music. She saw it was Tom and answered it.

  ‘Hi, Jas. Can we talk?’

  ‘No, Tom. I’m still at the ball and I can barely hear you.’

  ‘OK. How about in your room? I’ve some things to discuss with you.’

  ‘Alright. I’ve just about had enough of this anyway. I’ll give you a call in a few minutes.’ She terminated the call and dropped the phone back in the bag. She stood up and had a final look at the dancers. Flamboyancé was still there, snogging Robbie, but the others she could not see amongst press of crinolines and bustles and other costumes.

  She made her way to the entrance and slipped out into the relative quiet of the corridor. Coming towards her, zig-zagging and bouncing off the walls, was Samantha. Jasmine paused, wondering whether she would have to catch the crossdresser before she tumbled to the floor. Samantha stumbled towards her.

  ‘Oh, it’s the beautiful Sindy,’ she said slurring the words. She leaned over Jasmine resting one hand against the wall to the side of Jasmine’s head. Their false breasts pressed against each other. Samantha puffed alcoholic fumes into Jasmine’s face. ‘Well, this is nice, isn’t it,’ Samantha continued. ‘Just the two of us. Shall we have some fun?’

  Samantha pressed her spare hand against Jasmine’s groin. Jasmine felt the fingers pushing into the fabric, searching for her genitalia.

  ‘Come on, Sindy. Aren’t you interested? I am.’ Indeed, Jasmine could feel Samantha’s erection
constrained by her dress, pressing against her thigh. Samantha’s head rolled from side to side but her eyes remained focussed on Jasmine. ‘You’re like me aren’t you Sindy? Despite the dresses and the falsies and the lipstick, you’ve got a cock and balls bursting for relief.’

  Jasmine was thankful for the long dress that prevented Samantha getting her hand up inside, and for her tight knickers that kept her flaccid penis and plastic-ball-filled scrotum in place.

  She answered calmly, trying to reduce Samantha’s ardour gently. ‘No, Sam, I don’t want sex with you. Don’t you think you need a rest?’

  ‘A lie down? Yeah.’ Samantha lowered her head until her lips were against Jasmine’s ear. Her hand pressed harder against her crotch, rubbing vigorously. She whispered, ‘with you, babe, sucking my cock. Or would you like it up your arse?’

  Jasmine slipped her hands up between their bodies and pushed Samantha away. She resisted, her greater weight pressing down on Jasmine.

  ‘No thank you, Sam. Now get off me,’ she said, getting a little annoyed.

  Samantha balled her hand and rammed it between Jasmine’s legs as far as the beaded fabric would allow. She sneered in Jasmine’s ear, her words accompanied by moist, stinking breath. ‘What’s wrong with you, you cunt? What good is a limp, useless cock?’

  Jasmine had had enough. ‘It’s no use at all because I haven’t got balls and I don’t want the cock either. Now get off me.’ She grabbed the wrist that was between them, slid to the side and twisted Samantha’s hand behind her back. Now she was behind Samantha pushing her against the wall with her arm immobilised. She found that she was panting a little.

  ‘What’s going on? Sindy? Samantha?’ Tammy appeared, having emerged from the loo further along the corridor.

  ‘Samantha was a bit unsteady. I caught her before she fell,’ Jasmine explained. Samantha groaned but didn’t say anything.

  Tammy joined them and took Samantha’s arm from Jasmine, ‘Careful, Sindy. You could have broken her arm holding it like that.’

  ‘Oh, sorry Sam. I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ Jasmine said hoping that Tammy would be misled by her apparent innocence. Samantha moaned again but didn’t argue.

  ‘The silly bitch has got herself sloshed again,’ Tammy said as they each took hold of a side of Samantha.

  ‘Shall I help you get her back to your room again?’ Jasmine offered.

  ‘Thanks,’ Tammy replied, but Samantha wriggled out of their grasp.

  ‘I want to dance,’ Samantha said and lurched away towards the door to the disco.

  Tammy shrugged. ‘Well, there’s your answer. Apparently, your assistance is not wanted.’ Tammy set off after the drunk trannie.

  ‘Good luck with her,’ Jasmine said, smoothing her dress down her thighs. She took a deep breath and walked towards her own room.

  She switched on the lights, closed and locked the door then lay on her bed. She took a few deep breaths and let them out slowly, letting her anger at Samantha’s assault ooze away until she felt she could analyse it and her reaction sensibly. She was annoyed with herself for revealing her in between state – neither a male nor yet a true female. Would Samantha recall in the morning that “Sindy” wasn’t simply a bloke who liked wearing female clothes, particularly wedding dresses? More importantly, did Samantha’s behaviour put her back in the frame as Vokins’ killer? Was Samantha so confident that the apparent suicide of the victim was successful that she could let her guard fall to the extent of getting drunk out of her mind. Jasmine didn’t think that was the case; Samantha was just a confused trannie who liked too much to drink.

  After a few more moments to calm herself, Jasmine retrieved her phone from her bag, pressed redial and lounged back on the pillows.

  Tom answered immediately. ‘That was longer than I expected, Jas.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I got propositioned by Samantha on the way and had to deal with her.

  ‘Deal with her? That sounds a bit physical.’

  ‘It was, unfortunately.’

  ‘You haven’t blown your cover, Jas, have you?’

  ‘Perhaps, but I’m hoping that she’s too drunk to remember in the morning. Now what did you want to talk about? I’m feeling quite knackered.’

  Tom was sympathetic when he replied, ‘I understand Jas. Being undercover is tiring – but it’s only one more day. I’ve been through Vokins notes.’

  Jasmine pushed herself upright so that she was sitting with her shoulders against the headboard.

  ‘Anything interesting?’

  ‘I’ll say. From what he wrote, Vokins was an obnoxious old fart. I’m almost surprised he wasn’t murdered earlier if they knew what he thought of them. He must have been able to put on a charming face in order to stop the membership of the Belles from lynching him.’

  Jasmine listened to Tom with fascination. ‘What does he say?’

  ‘Where shall I start? He’s got notes on them all with reasons why he hates them and evidence to back up his feelings.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Well with Freddie Derham and his partner, Robbie, it’s simply because they’re gay and obviously in an active homosexual relationship. He’s written some dreadful homophobic stuff. It was only because Freddie paid up for both of them to attend the weekends that Vokins accepted them – he was desperate to keep the Belles’ finances ticking over.’

  ‘Hmm, well Freddie/Flamboyancé has seen through my cover.’

  ‘What!’ Tom’s cry almost made Jasmine drop the phone.

  ‘It’s OK, Tom. We had a little chat this evening. She was suspicious of me and of Vokins’ suicide. I had to take her into my confidence.’

  ‘Isn’t he a bit wild and unpredictable?’

  ‘She likes to give that impression, Tom, and she used to enjoy winding Vokins up, but actually she’s got a brain.’

  ‘You don’t think she’s a suspect?’

  ‘I could be wrong, but I don’t think she is. Anyway, she says she’ll go along with my cover story.’

  ‘But he’ll probably tell his partner, though.’

  ‘Perhaps, but Robbie is the calm, quiet type. He’ll do whatever Freddie asks of him.’

  ‘OK. Keep hoping.’

  ‘As you said, Tom It’s only one more day. What else have you got?’

  ‘Well, it was true that Vokins informed on Nolan. He didn’t like him because of his overtly sexual feminine persona. . .’

  ‘I know all about that.’

  ‘Yes, right, well, he wrote that he had told Mrs Nolan exactly what her husband got up to. That ended the marriage. I’d say Nolan had a perfect motive to kill Vokins.’

  ‘Which she hasn’t stopped going on about. Samantha has spent the weekend getting legless and unless that is a very good cover I don’t think it is the sign of a clever murderer.’

  ‘OK. What about Walsh? Vokins didn’t like him because of his colour.’

  ‘Oh, racist as well homophobic. I’d gathered that’

  Tom snorted. ‘Every kind of phobe, as far as I can see. But like Derham, Walsh was keen to pay up and be an active member.’

  ‘I don’t see Tammy as the murderer and she did find the keycard. That’s surely a clue that she isn’t our killer.’

  Tom sighed loudly. ‘OK. So that’s another one you’ve eliminated. What do you think Vokins wrote about the couple getting married for real?’

  ‘Melody and Geraldine?’

  ‘Yes. Vokins hated Melody first of all because she came out as transsexual and went through the transition. It appears he only really likes cross-dressers like himself who uphold female standards of dress.’

  ‘Stereotypical mother figures.’

  ‘Yes. Definitely not the tarty ones like Nolan. But then when Melody started a relationship with Salter that added to Vokins’ disapproval. He couldn’t stand any suggestion of sexual activity between anything other than a born man and woman.’

  ‘But yet again, he gave in to the wedding that’s happening tomorrow.’

&nb
sp; ‘Money again,’ Tom said.

  ‘That’s what has been suggested to me by Petula and others.’

  ‘But he had something more on Gerald Salter,’ Tom said.

  ‘Oh? What was that?’

  ‘Before he got together with Melody he had an affair with Emma Preston.’

  ‘Emma!’ Jasmine struggled to see Emma and Gerald/Geraldine in a lovers’ tryst.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Preston.’

  ‘Did Donna, Matthew Preston, know about it?’

  ‘Not as far as I can work out. But Vokins may have been blackmailing either or both of them. We know he was short of money but I can’t quite work out from his notes which he was targeting and whether he had initiated it yet.’

  ‘Well, there’s a motive.’

  ‘Two I think. Perhaps Gerald and Emma killed him together.’

  ‘Possible. Do you want to question them?’

  ‘I haven’t finished yet.’ Tom seemed impatient to complete his story.

  ‘Oh. Go on.’

  ‘There’s Matthew Preston himself. Vokins kept a book of accounts which differ from the balance sheet that Preston produced.’

  ‘Donna is very touchy about the club finances.’

  ‘I think he has a right to be. Without looking at Preston’s bank accounts I can’t tell whether Vokins’ suspicions are correct but he definitely spread rumours about Preston’s slack accounting.’

  ‘What was Vokins up to? Did he intend blackmailing Donna too?’

  ‘It’s a possibility.’

  ‘OK. That just leaves the Edwards. Don’t tell me Vokins had something on Sally. I can‘t see her as our suspect as she’s stuck in the wheelchair.’

  ‘Perhaps not but it doesn’t stop Vokins having a rant about the public money spent on keeping disabled people alive and comfortable.’

  ‘He really was disgustingly foul wasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, and it seems he didn’t mind telling Mr Edwards to put his wife in a home and forget her.’

  ‘I don’t think Petula was too endeared to Vokins.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’ Tom went on, ‘from Vokins’ notes it seems that he never let Edwards take any decisions despite him being the deputy chairman or whatever they called themselves. He just gave his orders and expected Edwards to carry them out. He doesn’t hold back from describing how useless Edwards was and I imagine he wasn’t afraid of telling him to his face.’