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

by P R Ellis

‘Think about it. it would be really stupid of the murderer to keep the keycard in her handbag and pull it out when she wanted to get into her own room. I don’t think you’re, stupid so I don’t think you are the murderer.’

  Tammy nodded slowly, ‘Oh, yes. Thanks.’

  ‘So you won’t be arrested. Just answer their questions honestly.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So, go back to your room. Get ready for the wedding and get Samantha ready too and don’t say a word to her or anyone else about the keycard. Only I, the police, you and the murderer know it was in your bag. Let the detectives do their work.’

  ‘Oh, right. You think that detective Shepherd is going to find the murderer?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ If I don’t it’ll be up to Tom, Jasmine thought. She gave Tammy a gentle push towards the door.

  ‘Thanks, Sindy. You’ve really made me feel better. See you at the wedding.’ Tammy slipped out of the door. Jasmine closed it and breathed a sigh. Was that a masterly bluff on Tammy’s part, or had she just ensured that her cover remained intact till the wedding was over? Was there still a chance for her to identify the killer?

  She picked up the jacket that matched her dress and put it on then slipped her feet into the shoes. She took the fascinator from its bag and placed it on top of her wig. Then she checked that her bag contained her phone and other essentials. One last glance in the mirror – yes, she was ready for the excesses of a wedding which happened to have two brides.

  She strode to the door, pulled it open, and was bundled backwards. She fell to the floor with a body on top of her. She kept her arms moving, avoiding the grasping hands of her assailant. The identity of her attacker didn’t immediately spring into her mind but she registered that he wasn’t a trained fighter. Someone who knew what they were doing would have immobilised her by now. She wriggled until the weight of her opponent was off her abdomen. Then she sat up and pushed both her hands into his face. He screamed as her nails lacerated his cheeks and he leaned back to get out of her reach. She twisted her legs out from under him and now she was kneeling, turning around him. She grabbed his arms and had them locked behind him. She forced him face down onto the carpet.

  She was panting, but not as much as the overweight would-be attacker was.

  ‘Donna!’ Jasmine said, surprised to see who her opponent was. He struggled but was unable to escape her grasp. ‘What are you doing?’

  Matthew Preston sagged in her arms, giving himself up to her dominance. ‘I didn’t mean it,’ he moaned.

  ‘Mean what?’ Jasmine said, giving his arms an extra twist to show that she was in charge.

  He squealed and gasped. ‘To kill Vernon.’

  ‘You killed Vernon Vokins?’ Jasmine said, not quite believing what she was hearing. Yes, Matthew/Donna was one of her top suspects but this was an unexpected confession. She let go of his arms and gave him an extra shove against the floor then stood up. She pressed her shoe with its sharp, not-quite-stiletto heel against the small of his back.

  ‘Yes,’ he groaned.

  ‘How?’ She asked.

  ‘I poisoned him. Gave him an overdose of Emma’s sleeping tablets.’

  ‘That was why Emma didn’t have them? You’d stolen them from her?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘How did you make Vokins take them?’

  ‘I dissolved then in a bottle of wine and took it to him. I hoped he’d see it as a gesture of friendship.’

  ‘And did he?’

  ‘Well, he thanked me for the bottle.’

  ‘Did you see him drink it?’

  ‘Uh. He poured two glasses. Of course I didn’t drink mine. He took some sips then he said I had to leave.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He said he needed a bath before becoming Valerie and then he would welcome the other Belles.’

  ‘Then you left?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So, you don’t know how much he drank.’

  ‘Um, no.’

  ‘And he wasn’t dead when you left him.’

  ‘Er, no . . .’

  ‘But you’ve got no idea whether it was you that killed him or not.’

  ‘He died. It must have been me.’

  ‘Oh get up, you fat oaf, Donna.’ Jasmine’s patience had been exhausted. It was obvious that Matthew Preston had no idea that Vernon Vokins had been drowned and had his wrists cut. He scrambled on to his knees.

  Jasmine stood over him. ‘Why did you attack me?’

  ‘I overheard you talking to Freddie.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Just now, after breakfast, after that policeman told us that they were investigating Vernon’s murder.’

  ‘You left with Emma.’

  ‘Yes, we were going back to our room but I wanted to find out what the police were doing. I told Emma to go on as I needed to speak to reception and came back to the dining room. I overheard you and Freddie talking and stayed out of sight while I listened. You’re working for the police.’

  ‘OK, but why attack me?’

  ‘You asked a lot of questions last night. I wondered why then but it all came clear when I learned that you’re spying on us. I thought if I could shut you up then the police would look elsewhere. I saw Tammy leave your room so I knew you were in.’

  ‘You were going to kill me,’ Jasmine said, but she almost felt like laughing out loud. This fool, thought he could overpower her.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, almost inaudibly.

  ‘How?’ Jasmine asked.

  ‘Um, strangle you, I suppose.’

  ‘You suppose! You have no idea do you, you fat slob. I can say that to you because I’m not a police officer, I’m a woman who can handle herself and won’t be controlled by deluded idiots like you.’ The elation was exciting but she caught herself. Preston wasn’t the killer; that much was obvious. So who was? There was still the real murderer to find.

  ‘Get up,’ She stood back as he struggled to his feet. ‘Sit down.’ She pointed to the small arm chair which he was just able to squeeze himself into. He looked dejected and defeated.

  ‘How did you think you could get away with it? Killing me that is.’

  ‘I thought I could hide your body. Without you to tell them about me the police wouldn’t suspect me and we could get away.’

  Jasmine realised that Preston thought he was her chief suspect. ‘Why did you think I would tell the police it was you?’

  ‘All those questions you asked last night. I didn’t understand then but when I heard you were with the police it all made sense. You know about the, uh, difficulty, I had with Vernon.’

  ‘I was asking everyone about their relationship with Vokins, not just you.’

  Preston’s eyes widened. ‘Were you?’

  ‘Yes. I hadn’t made up my mind about you or anybody. Why did you try to murder Vokins?’

  Preston’s face clouded. ‘He was a wicked, scheming, manipulating, . . .’ He ran out of adjectives.

  ‘I’ve gathered all that,’ Jasmine said.

  ‘He kept on accusing me of fiddling the accounts, of stealing money from the Belles. He said he wanted me to pay him the sum that he said I’d taken.’

  ‘He was blackmailing you.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But you weren’t taking the money, were you?’

  ‘No. It was a lie. But I couldn’t prove it. He kept all the receipts, just gave me notes telling me how much to write cheques for.’

  ‘I see,’ Jasmine saw the picture, ‘It was Vokins who was stealing money from the club.’

  The look on Preston’s face told Jasmine that he hadn’t thought of that explanation. He was so in awe of Vokins and subjugated by him that he hadn’t considered that the old cross-dresser was cheating his supposed friends in the bridal club. Realisation, anger, disappointment, resignation passed across his face.

  ‘I’ve been a fool,’ Preston said and buried his face in his hands.

  ‘You have been,’ Jasmine agreed, ‘but you are not
a murderer. Oh, I am sure the police will charge you with something for drugging Vokins, but you didn’t kill him. One of the others did that.’

  ‘But who?’ Preston looked at her in bemusement.

  ‘That is what I am here to find out.’ She was thinking hard. ‘What did you do after you left Vokins with his spiked wine? Did you go back to your room?’

  ‘No. I was a bit all over the place. I couldn’t face Emma. I went and sat in the bar for a while.’

  ‘Did anyone see you there?’

  ‘Yes, a few of the Butterflies ladies were having tea. None of the Belles were there.’

  ‘When you returned to your room what did Emma say about your absence?’

  ‘She wasn’t there. She’d said she was going for a swim. She came back half an hour after me.’

  Jasmine pondered a bit longer then asked another question.

  ‘Did you see Vokins’ keycard when you were in his room?’

  Preston considered for a moment. ‘Yes, I did. It was on the small table by the entrance to his suite.’

  ‘Did you pick it up?’

  Preston looked offended as if stealing a key was more serious than drugging the old bride. ‘No. Of course not.’

  ‘So you left Vokins’ room unlocked?’

  ‘Er. I suppose so.’

  Someone else had been able to enter Vokins’ room after Preston had gone, and then completed the deed he thought he had achieved. Jasmine knew she had few chances left to trap the killer and making a song and dance about Preston might reduce them further.

  ‘If I hand you over,’ she began, ‘there will be a huge fuss but the real killer might think that by keeping calm he can sit it out and then get away when Melody’s and Gerald’s wedding is over.’

  ‘The wedding! You mustn’t spoil that for Melody’s and Geraldine’s sakes.’

  ‘Right, so this is what you are going to do.’ Jasmine took a deep breath wondering if she was taking the best step. ‘You are going to go back to your room and, with Emma, get ready for the wedding. You going to go through the wedding and the reception without saying anything about this to anyone, including Emma. Got it?’

  Preston stared at him, mouth and eyes wide open. ‘You’re letting me go?’

  ‘For now. I’ll tell DS Shepherd what you told me when I get a chance and he’ll have to question you and decide what to charge you with. It won’t be murder but you may go to prison. I can’t make any promises. If you had killed me, you would have been in even bigger trouble because you would not have got away with it. You’re an amateur, Matthew. You don’t understand murder or the police.’

  Preston nodded taking in Jasmine’s words. ‘Yes, I understand. Thank you.’

  ‘I warn you – say anything to anyone, including your wife, and I’ll get DS Shepherd to arrest you and throw you into jail and make sure you don’t get out for a long time. Got it?’

  Preston nodded unhappily.

  ‘Now stand up and let’s look at you.’

  Matthew hauled himself to his feet and faced Jasmine. She looked him up and down and examined his face. Her nails hadn’t broken the skin and the red lines where she had gouged his cheeks had already almost faded.

  ‘You’ll do,’ she said, ‘Now get back to Emma and try to act normal. Say you went to get some fresh air in the garden or something.’

  Preston nodded and withdrew. Jasmine followed him to the door and locked it behind him. She went to the bed and sat down. An involuntary shaking came over her. She’d made Preston think that she had easily overcome him but it hadn’t been as easy as that. If he had used his weight effectively he could have overpowered her and carried out his misguided plan. As well as the emotion of her survival, she was also worried. Had she done the right thing in letting the fool go? Could he be trusted to keep the secret for a few more hours or would he blab to Emma or one of the others? She needed to inform Tom of what had happened.

  Jasmine reached for her phone and called Tom’s number on quick dial. It went straight to his answer phone message. She waited to the end and then said ‘Tom, Jasmine here, There’s been a development. No change to the plan at the moment, but I need to speak to you.’ She ended the call and dropped the phone back into her bag. Tom must have turned his phone off while he went around telling the rest of the guests what the situation was.

  There was more thinking to do. Preston had left Vokins with the drugged wine while preparing his bath with his door unlocked. Vokins was found dead in the bath. Did that mean that the murderer found him in the bath, drowsy because of the sleeping drug? That would make it easy for the killer to push him under the water and drown him. The killer didn’t have to overpower the old bigot so he, or she, didn’t need too much strength. The killer didn’t even have to know about the drugged wine. If the murder was opportunistic, just finding Vokins dozing in the bath might have been enough of an opportunity. There was still the possibility that Preston had lied to her and that he was working with someone and his job had been just to get the drug into Vokins. She doubted that though. Preston seemed too inept to keep a more complex story hidden while she had interrogated him. Her task now was to identify the member of the Belles who had grasped the chance to kill Vokins and had sufficient guile to try to arrange the suicide cover-up.

  A glance at her watch told her that time was passing ever quicker. She should get out, meet the other Belles and try to pick up more clues. With news of the murder circulating they would be gossiping with each other and deciding amongst themselves who the culprit might be. She stood up, smoothed down the jacket and dress. It looked fine. Creases had fallen out and there were no marks. Something was missing though – the fascinator. She looked around the floor and found it kicked under the dressing table. She picked it up and examined it. It seemed undamaged. She placed it on her head and looked in the mirror. The wig had to be straightened but looked alright. Her face was a different story. Her lipstick and eye shadow were smudged and smeared across her face. She sighed, took off her jacket and returned to the bathroom to wash and re-do her make-up.

  22

  Jasmine entered the Pang Wing and pushed the door into the conference room open. It was laid out ready for the wedding and was empty except for Gerald, dressed in a jumper and pair of trousers, who was just inside the door. He was standing with half a dozen flower arrangements on tall pedestals.

  Gerald looked at her. ‘Oh, hello Sindy. What are you doing here? The wedding isn’t until noon.’

  Jasmine tried to appear relaxed. ‘I had nothing else to do so I thought I’d come in and see if there is anything that needs doing.’

  Gerald appeared relieved. ‘That’s kind of you. Actually, can you give me a hand in moving these flowers over to where the ceremony will take place? They are rather awkward.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Be careful, I wouldn’t want you to mark your lovely outfit. You look gorgeous.’

  Jasmine was grateful for the compliment. ‘Thank you, I’ll be careful.’ She moved to the opposite side of one of the stands from Gerald and together they lifted it. The room was laid out as on the day before with two banks of chairs and a wide aisle between them. They walked the flowers to where the registrar would stand.

  ‘We’re going to have three on either side, sort of as a backdrop to the ceremony,’ Gerald said, puffing a little. They shuffled so that the stand was somewhat off centre. ‘That’s about it,’ Gerald said and they lowered it gently.

  They walked back to pick up the next pedestal.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be getting ready,’ Jasmine said, ‘You’re wearing a wedding dress too aren’t you?’

  Gerald glanced at his watch. ‘There’s plenty of time, but this is the last job. Thank you for helping.’

  They moved the flowers, placing them to complement the first stand.

  ‘You shared your room with Melody last night, didn’t you?’ Jasmine said.

  Gerald looked at her with a frown, ‘Yes?’

  ‘You don’t belie
ve it’s bad luck to see your bride on her wedding morning?’ Jasmine continued with a chuckle to show that she was being light-hearted.

  Gerald laughed. ‘No, we’re not suspicious like that. Mind you neither of us has seen each other’s dresses yet. Melody is getting dressed now and mine is with Petula and Sally.’

  They moved the third arrangement.

  ‘There can’t be many weddings with two brides,’ Jasmine said.

  ‘No, although with civil partnerships for lesbian couples, they’re becoming more common.’

  ‘But they’re not real weddings,’ Jasmine corrected. ‘Who knows, perhaps someday soon gay couples will be allowed to go through the full marriage service. Until then its only couples like you and Melody that can do it, thanks to Melody getting her GRC.’

  The fourth flower display was put into a symmetrical position.

  Gerald changed the topic of conversation. ‘Were you at breakfast, when that detective made the announcement about Valerie?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jasmine replied, interested and pleased that they had moved onto this topic, ‘You weren’t though?’

  ‘No. Petula came and told us about it straight after. Melody and I were both shocked and relieved.’

  ‘Shocked and relieved?’

  ‘Well, relieved that the police are letting us have our wedding but shocked that Valerie was murdered.’

  They carried the fifth pedestal down the aisle.

  ‘Do you think the fact that she was murdered is more shocking than she committed suicide?’ Jasmine asked.

  Gerald considered his answer. ‘Well yes, I’m sure it is. The thought that one person could kill another; that must be more worrying because the murderer is still here. If the police are correct and it is one of us, then that’s even worse.’

  ‘But when you were told Vokins had killed himself, did that surprise you?’

  They placed the flowers in their position and returned for the remaining stand.

  ‘It did surprise me,’ Gerald said at last, ‘I never thought of Valerie as the suicidal type. Being murdered makes more sense actually.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well,’ Gerald paused, ‘One shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, and I can’t agree with murder as a way of settling disputes but . . .’