by P R Ellis
‘What do you mean? Have you been spying on me?’
‘Let me in and we can discuss whether your landlord knows you are operating as a prostitute.’
‘What!’
Jasmine gave the door a firm shove. Tilly didn’t resist. Jasmine slipped into the narrow hallway and whipped off the black wig.
‘Oh, it’s you!’ Tilly stepped back and raised a hand to her mouth. In the dim light of the corridor Jasmine was only just able to make out Tilly’s appearance. Her hair was tied in bunches on each side of her head. She wore a white cotton shirt with the top three buttons undone revealing a cleavage unfettered by a bra. A school tie dangled loosely between her nipples protruding through the taut fabric of the shirt. The bottom buttons were also unfastened and gaped to reveal her flat stomach and the rolled up waist band of her grey twill skirt which barely reached mid-thigh. Completing the look was a pair of white ankle socks and little black pumps. Considerably shorter than Jasmine, she looked like a precocious fourteen year old.
‘So you excite your clients with the schoolgirl routine, do you?’ Jasmine said.
‘I provide a service,’ Tilly pouted, ‘Anyway, I’m probably protecting under-age girls from some of them.’
‘If you have evidence of that, then I’ll march you down to the police station right now.’
Tilly recoiled. ‘No, of course I haven’t got evidence. I didn’t mean it. I don’t know anything about them except they are grateful and pay up.’ She sniffed. ‘Look if you’re here to talk about Xristal, you’d better come in.’ She led Jasmine into the studio room.
The curtains were open but there were heavy nets at the windows to prevent passers-by peering in. There was a small double bed and the usual bedroom furniture, but about a third of the room was laid out like a classroom. A blackboard sat on an easel in front of an antique school desk, and behind the desk was a chair on which rested a cane. A black gown and mortarboard hung behind the door.
Tilly pointed to a small armchair beside the bed. Jasmine took the hint and sat down. Tilly sat on the edge of the bed, her skirt riding even higher up her thighs.
‘Does your landlord know how you pay the rent?’ Jasmine asked.
‘Mr Taylor? Perhaps. He’s never mentioned it, but he’s never been here. His wife has though; she collects the rent each month.’
‘What about the other girls, Xristal and Honey, are they, were they, prostitutes too?’
‘We never talked about what we did, but I used to hear people going up to Honey’s flat. Occasionally, I saw people going up the stairs at the back, but they could have been going to see either Honey or Xristal.’
‘Did you know Xristal was transsexual?’
‘I guessed. She never discussed it but, well, her figure was a bit of a giveaway – narrow hips, broad shoulders and those perfect tits. She was so proud of them.’
‘She admitted they were false?’
‘Oh, yes. She went on about how many thousands it cost to get them done properly.’
‘What about Honey?’
‘There was no doubt about her. She was more like a man in drag – her clothes, mincing walk and her height. She was even taller than you.’
Jasmine realised that Tilly had seen through her too.
‘Being tall doesn’t mean anything.’
‘Doesn’t it? There are other giveaways though, aren’t there? Things you can’t quite put a finger on.’ Tilly sucked her finger, innocently.
Jasmine knew only too well how right Tilly was. It took years and years to learn the subtle mannerisms that conveyed true femininity and she knew that even now, after transitioning, a close inspection of how she stood, walked, sat and spoke revealed her nature. There were so many things she had to learn, but completing gender reassignment would help her to feel like a real woman.
‘Well, you’d better prepare yourself for your landlord finding out about how you earn your living. He could find himself on a charge of living on immoral earnings by operating a brothel if it’s true that Xristal and Honey were prostitutes too.’
Tilly frowned.
‘Do you mean I’d better get out of here?’
‘Only if you want the police coming after you for Xristal’s murder. If you are as helpful as you can be you might avoid being charged yourself, but be prepared for some embarrassing questions.’
‘Oh!’ Tilly held her face in her hands. ‘What should I do?’
‘Tell the police officers everything you’ve told me, and don’t answer the door in the outfit you’re wearing now. You’d better cancel your clients for a while.’
‘Bugger. I need the money, but clients aren’t going to want to come here if the police are all over the place. The two this morning were nervous.’ Tilly stood up and stepped across the room to the dressing table. ‘Here, you’d better have this.’ She handed an envelope to Jasmine. ‘The postman dropped it in this morning. He said he couldn‘t get upstairs because of the police tape.’
Jasmine glanced at the address and noticed the name Newman. Then she looked more closely and saw it was addressed to “Mr C.”
‘This was for Xristal?’
‘I suppose so. There’s no one else called Newman here.’
‘Right. Thanks. I’ll pass it on.’ Jasmine stood up. ‘I’d better get on. Take care of yourself and don’t do anything stupid.’ She headed towards the door with Tilly following.
‘No. I won’t. Look, I really hope you find out who killed Xristal.’
‘So do I.’ Jasmine tugged the black wig onto her head.
Back on Bredon Road, Jasmine contemplated whether to walk up and down again or loiter on the corner. Parfitt’s car was still outside his house, so she hadn’t missed him leaving while she was inside Tilly’s flat. Her phone rang.
‘Hi, Tom.’
‘Jas. Winslade has rung through saying she’s got some preliminary results from the autopsy on Xristal Newman. She thinks you might be interested.’
‘I am. Shall I meet you at the hospital?’
‘Yes. As you’re an official advisor now, it’ll be OK for you to come in. I’m on my way there.’
‘I’ll see you there.’ Jasmine thumbed the off and dropped the phone into her bag while hurrying back to her car. What had Dr Winslade found? This was much more exciting than looking out for Parfitt all day – that could wait.
The smell of disinfectant, and other undefinable substances always made Jasmine’s stomach turn when she entered the pathology lab. She and Tom were dressed in overalls and hair nets as they pushed through the rubber doors.
‘Hi DS Shepherd, Jasmine,’ Dr Winslade was standing by a table on which lay the remains of Xristal Newman. The blackened torso with its four white limbs and dark-haired head were recognisable only because they were arranged similarly to how they had been on the bed. Tom and Jasmine looked across the body at the masked pathologist.
‘What have you got then?’ Tom asked.
‘Quite a lot actually,’ Winslade replied. ‘First of all, she was dead before she was set alight. There’s no smoke in her lungs.’
‘Someone else was definitely involved then.’ Tom said.
‘How was she killed?’ Jasmine asked.
‘I’d say she was smothered; probably with a pillow.’
‘Wouldn’t she have struggled?’ Tom queried.
‘Certainly, but she was fastened to the bed, spread-eagled. There are marks on her wrists and ankles.’
Jasmine looked at the pale limbs on the slab expecting to see the deep cuts of ropes made as the victim struggled. There were none.
‘The marks are quite faint and broad,’ Winslade went on. ‘She wasn’t tied up with rope. I’d say she was restrained hand and foot with cuffs. Good quality ones, designed not to leave marks while immobilising the subject.’
‘Do you mean Xristal’s death was the result of a BDSM scenario gone wrong?’ Jasmine asked, wondering if that was the service Xristal provided. If indeed she was a prostitute like Tilly.
�
��There was evidently bondage involved, but the killing wasn’t an accident. The killer would have had to hold the pillow down for a considerable time to cause death. Whoever did it must have been aware what they were doing.’
‘There was no sign of bondage gear in the flat,’ Tom said.
Jasmine had an idea. ‘The killer must have removed it along with Xristal’s handbag, phone and stuff.’
‘We did wonder why the bottom drawer in the chest was empty,’ Tom commented, ‘It seemed strange to have a spare drawer when there was so little storage space.’
‘The killer must have wanted to hide what had happened,’ Jasmine said.
‘That’s probably why they set fire to the body after removing the bonds,’ Winslade said, ‘but they didn’t do a very good job.’
‘Why’s that?’ Tom asked.
‘Well, there just wasn’t enough flammable material near the body to get a good blaze going,’ Winslade answered, ‘No clothing or bedding, the mattress was interior sprung, the outer fabric contained flame retardant and the bed frame was steel. Part of the plastic sheet melted but didn’t ignite. The killer must have been in a hurry once they had removed the bindings. They threw the vodka over the body and tossed the lit candle on it. The alcohol burned off pretty quickly, singeing the skin and melting the subcutaneous fat. That started a wick effect with the fat smouldering and melting more fat. It produced enough smoke to set off the alarm, eventually. But, well the victim didn’t have a lot of fat on her and the heat wasn’t sufficient to spread the fire to the arms and legs. It fizzled out.’
Tom and Jasmine stood looking at the body, silently taking in what the pathologist had said.
‘Can you give a time of death?’ Tom asked.
‘Well, it’s not easy. The fire masks the indicators. The fire service report says that they responded to the call at 5:20 p.m.’
‘That’s right,’ Jasmine said, ‘It was gone five when I broke into the flat.’
‘The fire was probably out by then. I reckon it probably smouldered for one to two hours, perhaps a little longer, but not much.’
‘So, it was started between three and four o’clock?’ Jasmine calculated.
‘That’s right. I’d say she died before four.’
‘So there was plenty of time for the killer to get away unnoticed?’ Tom said.
‘Presumably.’ Winslade nodded.
‘Is there anything else?’ Jasmine asked.
‘There are a few things of interest about the victim,’ Winslade said. She pointed to the torso. ‘I told you about the breast augmentation.’
‘Yes,’ Jasmine agreed.
‘Well, she’s also had cosmetic surgery on her nose, probably giving her a more feminine appearance; her whole body is hairless and she has had electrolysis on her upper lip and chin.’
Tom was confused. ‘Electrolysis?’
‘To remove hair and stop it growing.’ Jasmine said.
‘That’s right. She’s also had collagen injections to fill out her lips and she had a recent visit to a manicurist and pedicurist.’
‘What?’ Tom said.
‘She’s had her finger and toenails done professionally,’ Jasmine explained.
‘She really made herself look female then.’ Tom said.
‘Yes,’ Jasmine said, totting up the cost of all the procedures, ‘and she must have been earning enough to do it.’
‘Oh, and I’ve got the preliminary results of blood tests,’ Winslade added.
‘And?’ Tom’s eyebrows rose.
‘There’s no evidence of any drugs.’
‘So she wasn’t an addict.’ Tom nodded.
Jasmine thought Winslade meant something else. ‘No drugs at all?’ Winslade’s smile showed even with her face covered by her mask.
‘No drugs, Jasmine. No artificial oestrogens or anti-androgens. Her natural testosterone was at a normal level for a male.’
‘Uh, what does that mean?’ Tom asked.
Jasmine was ready with the answer. ‘It means that, despite appearances, Xristal was still fully male.’
‘You mean, she could...’
‘Yes. She could have erections, fuck, ejaculate, the works.’ She now had a new mental image of Xristal, one in which they were not so similar after all.
‘I don’t get it. Why have the boob job but not the hormones?’
‘Xristal was what is known as a she-male.’ Jasmine surprised herself by feeling a bit disgusted and let-down.
‘What does that mean?’
‘She-males adopt the outward appearance of women, even to the extent of having breast implants and other cosmetic procedures, while retaining the ability to use their male genitals and have sex as a man.’
‘So they’re not transsexuals, then.’
‘Depends how you define transsexual.’ There was an anger in Jasmine as if her own identity was being questioned. ‘On the one hand, they sit astride the boundary between male and female - but she-males don’t really want to be women, they want to show off their great thrusting pricks and ejaculate and fuck like blokes.’
‘They’re not like you then,’ Tom said with a smile.
‘Definitely not!’
Tom looked at Winslade for help.
‘Jasmine’s right, Tom. Xristal Newman was a fully-functioning male despite her feminine appearance.’
‘And a whore too, or rent-boy, whatever you want to call him,’ Jasmine said.
‘How do you know?’
‘Well, the BDSM is one clue, but Tilly is a prostitute and she suspected Xristal was as well,’
‘How do you know Tilly’s a hooker?’ Tom asked.
‘I was with her before you rang. I observed two men enter her flat this morning and each spend about an hour with her. She role-plays being a precocious schoolgirl for them. She admitted it when I confronted her. She wouldn’t say so, but I’m sure she thinks Xristal and Honey were also on the game.’
‘All three of them?’
Jasmine added, ‘I bet Honey Potts is a she-male too and that she and Xristal had a sexual relationship.’ It was a wild leap of imagination, but it felt true. She could imagine two she-males sharing their sexual fantasies and urging each other on.
‘This upsets you, doesn’t it, Jasmine?’ Dr Winslade said, pulling the mask down from her mouth.
Jasmine examined her emotions. She felt angry, upset, confused.
‘Yes, it does.’
‘Why?’ Tom asked.
‘I thought Xristal was like me; someone who thought she was female but had the wrong shaped body. I suspected that she might be working as a prostitute – many transsexuals do. It’s often the only way that they can earn enough to pay for the gender reassignment. Now I realise that Xristal wasn’t like me at all.’
‘I’m not sure I get it,’ Tom said warily, as if expecting another outburst from Jasmine.
Jasmine felt hot and knew her face was flushed.
‘Because Xristal went to all this trouble to make it look as though she was female. She sort of designed her own body, but she still wanted a functioning cock and balls. I want to get rid of mine. I am getting rid of mine – next Monday.’
‘What! You’re having your sex-change next week?’ Tom said.
‘Not the full thing, just my testicles removed.’
‘To stop the production of testosterone?’ Dr Winslade said.
‘Yes. So that I don’t have to take the anti-androgen tablets which are making me feel crap.’
Jasmine could see Tom wincing as he took in the meaning of what she had said.
‘So after you’ve had this operation, you won’t get erections anymore?’
‘That’s right, and the feminising drugs, the oestrogens, should work better. I’ll be a little closer to being what I want to be.’
‘Won’t you be out of action for a while? It must be a big op.’ Tom said.
‘No, Tom. It’s just a little snip, according to my doctor. I’ll be in the hospital for a few hours, sore for a couple
of days and then I’ll be fine.’
‘Oh. Just a little snip?’ Tom looked distinctly pale. Jasmine had an image of the knife and felt a little sick.
‘That’s wonderful for you, Jasmine,’ Winslade said, ‘and I can understand how you feel about Xristal.’
‘So let me get this straight. I think I must be a bit naive.’ Tom said. ‘These she-male prostitutes have sex with men who like having sex with women with penises or men with tits? I don’t know which they are.’
‘Take your pick, but that’s probably the case,’ Jasmine replied. ‘They can have normal sex with women too.’
Tom stroked his chin. ‘At least it makes a few things clearer. We have some hints of a motive for killing her.’
‘Like what?’
‘A client taking against her perhaps?’
‘Or a pimp?’
‘Or perhaps a falling out with her friend Honey - or is it business partner?’
‘It’s quite a list.’
‘It’s frustrating that the killer apparently removed all the information on Xristal. We hardly know anything about her/him.’ Tom said.
Jasmine remembered the envelope Tilly had given her. It had been stuffed in her bag with her phone when she had run to the car. She dug in the bag for it.
‘There may be something in this.’ She handed the envelope to Tom. He looked at it closely.
‘Where did you get it?’
‘Tilly gave it to me. The postman delivered it to her because he couldn’t get to Xristal’s letterbox.’
Tom carefully slit the envelope open and pulled out the sheet of folded paper. He looked at it.
‘It’s a bank statement for an account in the name of Mr C Newman. Jesus, there’s a fair bit in it, and some recent transactions. This is a great lead if Mr C is Xristal.’
‘No doubt. Xristal can’t have transitioned fully.’
‘We’d better get back and look into this,’ Tom was still scanning the page, ‘Thanks, Doctor. You’ve been a great help. Come on Jas. There are things to do.’ He headed for the exit.
Jasmine paused, looking again at the sad remains of Xristal.
‘How are you feeling, Jasmine?’ Dr Winslade asked.
‘I’m confused,’ Jasmine replied, ‘I thought Xristal and I were similar, so I was determined to find out why she had died. Now I know we weren’t similar at all and I’m not sure how I feel.’