by P R Ellis
‘No, I’m still waiting.’ Jasmine was taken aback that Marilyn had turned on her.
‘Oh, you’ve still got it, have you? But it’s not good for anything, is it? You’re sexless, a eunuch.’ Her cheeks were flushed, and drool was running down her chin. ‘I didn’t give you permission to approach me!’ she screamed. ‘Get back!’
Marilyn suddenly lashed out with her pointed-toe stiletto. The kick expressed all the regret, frustration and anger that her story had revealed. The sharp, leather-capped toe connected with Jasmine’s groin. An electric shock, a lightning bolt, a grenade, all at once, speared up through her bowels and exploded in her head. She fell backwards, cracking her head on the stone floor. Darkness started to cloud her eyes, but through the roaring in her ears she heard other noises – a thud as something quite heavy fell to the floor, a brief cry and groan. Then there was silence.
Her head felt full of lead, her eyes wouldn’t focus and it felt as if there was a red hot poker between her legs. There was liquid flowing down her legs. It couldn’t be blood, surely blood wouldn’t flow as fast. She didn’t have that much blood in her – did she?
Jasmine rolled onto her front, the pain making her gasp. She pushed herself to her knees, crawled. Her knee slipped on slick liquid. Her blood? Her legs collapsed and she fell forward. She tried again but her body seemed to have stretched, her limbs had become distant and floppy. Somehow she dragged herself a few inches feeling as if she was swimming through crude oil. Her identity was dissolving, parts of her splitting off and floating away. Her head - it was only her head she had left - spun. She was tired, exhausted. Where did she want to go? What was she doing? Wouldn’t it be nice to just sleep? Sleep...
11
TUESDAY EVENING
A knife slashing, cutting. Her windpipe blocked. No air to breathe. Tightly bound.
No, that was in the past. A recurring nightmare stored deep in her psyche. Now there was the recent memory of agony. She remembered pain in her groin. And blood, her blood, pouring from her.
There was no pain now, just a dull discomfort between her legs and a tiredness in her limbs. Then Jasmine remembered…the operation…Marilyn Taylor’s story…her savage kick... the pain and blood. All memories now, like that thud on the stone floor and the brief cry. What had that been?
There was light beyond her eyelids. She half-opened them, fearing a bright light. A pale wall in front of her, daylight from her left. She knew this place. She had been here or somewhere similar before.
‘Jasmine? Are you awake?’ Angela’s voice. Angela?
She opened her eyes, turned her head to the right. Angela was leaning over her.
‘Oh, you are awake. Are you comfortable?’
Jasmine nodded her head almost imperceptibly, still trying to summon the energy to speak. She started to push against the mattress with her hands and feet. Something was impeding her left arm.
‘No, don’t try to move, Jasmine. You’re hooked up to the machine.’
Jasmine looked to the left and saw her arm encumbered with tubes.
‘You lost a lot of blood, Jas,’ Angela went on.
‘Hospital?’ Jasmine could only manage the one word, her mouth was so dry and she felt so tired.
‘Yes.’
‘Again?’
‘Yes, Jas. You need to learn to look after yourself.’
‘Tom?’
‘Yes. Tom saved you – again. He found you bleeding to death.’
‘Marilyn?’
‘What?’
‘Marilyn Taylor?’
‘The woman in the basement?’
Jasmine nodded.
‘Um. I don’t know.’
Angela sounded uncertain. Did she really not know? What had happened after Marilyn delivered her kick.
‘Would you like a drink?’
Jasmine nodded again. Angela held a cup to her lips, and carefully tipped it. Some water trickled down her neck but most went into her mouth. Her tongue became unstuck from the roof of her mouth. She swallowed. That felt better, almost normal.
‘You came.’ The remembered strain of their last parting was like a heavy weight on her chest.
‘Tom rang me as soon as they got you in the ambulance. He thought it looked pretty serious.’
Jasmine had no recollection of Tom finding her or of an ambulance or of arriving at the hospital. There was nothing after the kick that Marilyn Taylor delivered. I must have been completely out, she thought. Perhaps it was pretty serious. She felt OK now though; no pain. Her mind seemed to be clearing. She was just so tired. Why? She hadn’t done anything energetic. Was it loss of blood?
‘They’ve given you a lot of blood, Jas, but you’re going to be fine. Go to sleep. It’ll be dark soon.’
Dark soon? Was it evening? Jasmine wondered how long she’d been out. But already her eyes were feeling heavy and it didn’t seem worth the bother to make any more conversation.
Had she slept? It didn’t seem like more than a few moments since she had closed her eyes. She opened them again. She saw the same wall as she had seen the last time she awoke. Now though there was bright sunshine streaming in from the window on the left.
‘Morning, Jasmine.’ For some reason she had expected Angela’s voice, but this was a man. A man with a Birmingham accent. Viv. She turned her head and saw his dark face grinning down at her.
‘You’re awake. That’s great.’
‘Angela? She was here,’ Jasmine muttered, but finding her voice becoming stronger.
‘She was. She was here all night. She’s just gone off to have a shower and freshen up.’
‘And you?’
‘I just got here. I got a bit frantic to tell you the truth. I got back yesterday afternoon to find you weren’t in and your car gone. You weren’t supposed to be out and about.’
‘I got a call.’
‘So I heard. When you didn’t turn up, I guessed something had cropped up so I phoned the police station. They didn’t want to tell me, but it was obvious that there’d been something going off. I finally persuaded them to give my number to that ex-colleague of yours, Shepherd. He rang me last night and told me you were in here.’
‘Thanks for coming.’
‘I came last night. Angela was here. Said you were going to be all right. You were asleep.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Jasmine struggled to imagine Angela and Viv sitting beside her bed while she slept, oblivious.
‘Shepherd looked in as well. We had a bit of a chat about you. Angela said she was going to stay. So I’ve had a night’s sleep and now had better get off to work. Glad I’ve seen you awake, though. You’re looking better than you did last night.’
Jasmine saw that the tubes had been removed from her except for the thin leads to sensors stuck to her chest. She felt almost normal this morning, except for a constriction around her groin. She felt carefully. There was a thick dressing between her legs and around her thighs. Obviously, she wasn’t completely right then.
‘Thanks, Viv. It’s lovely to see you. Thank you for being concerned.’
‘I was. We all were.’
‘Seeing Angela here surprised me.’
‘I told you she was a great girl.’
‘But when she went…’ When was it? Monday. It was only Wednesday today wasn’t it?
‘I said you’d get back together.’
‘But we can’t. She needs a man. I can’t give her what she wants anymore.’ Tears clouded Jasmine’s eyes.
‘Of course not. But you can be friends. Close friends. Women friends.’
‘I’ll get in the way.’
‘No, you won’t. That Luke twat was a bigoted fool, but Angela will find a guy who can accommodate her friendship with you. She’s an intelligent woman. She’ll work it out. Just give her time. But she’ll always be there for you. You’ve shared so much.’
‘You seem to know a lot, Viv.’
‘We had quite a chat last night, Jas.’
‘Oh.’
The doo
r opened and a doctor entered, followed by a nurse.
‘Good morning, Miss Frame,’ the doctor said. She was young, slim, with short brown hair and a broad smile. ‘We need to check you over.’
‘Oh, I’ll be going then,’ Viv said, getting to his feet. ‘I’ll drop by later. See how you’re doing.’ He bent down and planted a kiss on Jasmine’s forehead before leaving.
‘Your boyfriend?’ the doctor asked.
Boyfriend? Jasmine had only ever considered the idea in her fantasies. Was Viv really a boyfriend? They’d visited each other, been out on a date, he’d kissed her a couple of times. But - boyfriend?
‘A close friend,’ she said.
‘Ah,’ the doctor said approaching the side of the bed and peering at the monitor. She turned to face her. Jasmine noticed her name badge which read Dr Katie Armitage. ‘You seem to be back to normal, Miss Frame, but we are going to keep you in for a day or two. Perhaps you don’t realise what happened to you yesterday?’
Jasmine shook her head.
‘You ruptured the sutures in your scrotum and haemorrhaged severely. We’ve sewn you up, but we need to keep an eye on you to make sure you don’t tear them again. Obviously we had to replace the blood you lost. Oh, and we replaced the false testicle which was missing.’
Jasmine could only remember the pain and the gushing blood after Marilyn had kicked out at her. She hadn’t felt one of the balls drop out.
‘So we’re going to keep you quiet until you are really healing. Then, no more chasing after criminals. Not for a few weeks anyway.’
Dr Armitage seemed to know the full story, perhaps more than Jasmine herself knew. She nodded and resigned herself to days of boredom.
‘Nurse Grainger will check your dressing and I’ll look in on you later to see that you’re feeling OK.’
‘Thanks, doctor.’ Despite not relishing lying in bed for an extended period, Jasmine wanted to express her gratitude as she did feel truly thankful. These people had saved her when she was possibly bleeding to death. ‘Thank you for looking after me,’ she added with more feeling.
‘My pleasure.’ The doctor left and the nurse pulled down the sheets covering Jasmine. She lifted the hem of the hospital gown to examine the mound of dressing that protected her genitalia. Jasmine experienced her usual feeling of shame at being looked at. She hoped that would disappear when she “looked right” down there.
‘It looks fine. If you need to go to the loo, we’ll fix it for you. Just try not to move too much.’
She covered her up again and then left, leaving Jasmine alone with her thoughts for the first time since she had come round. What had happened when Marilyn kicked her? Had it damaged her chances of having the full gender reassignment? She would have to ask Dr Armitage when she returned. Lying with her head on the pillow, she wondered how long she would have to stay like this. Surely she’d soon be allowed to sit up, get up and move about, even if they might have to monitor her to prevent her damaging herself again.
The door opened and Angela came in, followed by the towering figure of Tom Shepherd.
‘Viv said you had woken up, Jas,’ Angela said, hurrying to her side and planting a kiss on her cheek. She sat in the chair that Viv had vacated. Tom loomed over her.
‘Find a chair, Tom. You’re straining my neck.’
‘I see you’ve recovered then,’ Tom said as he went to collect a chair from the other side of the room. He carried it over and sat down next to Angela.
‘How are you feeling this morning?’ Angela asked.
‘I feel fine. A bit tender down below.’
‘I’m not surprised. You wouldn’t believe how much blood there was when I found you.’ Tom said.
‘I was out of it by then,’ Jasmine said.
‘I know. I thought you’d gone. You hardly had a pulse but the paramedic was there in no time, and the ambulance. They got you back, I’m glad to say. But you are an idiot. What were you doing haring off to the Taylors’ when you were supposed to be recuperating?’
‘I didn’t stop to think,’ Jasmine admitted, ‘When I dropped off Honey Potts, DC Patel mentioned a Jaguar at the Bredon Road flats and it suddenly came to me where I’d seen one before.’
‘So you rushed off to check it out?’
‘Yes. I did send you a message.’
‘Just as well you did. You didn’t when you went off to find Marilyn Taylor.’
‘No. Sorry. I was too keen to get some answers.’
‘Well, I hope you got them.’
‘Why? Hasn’t Marilyn given a statement?’
‘She can’t. She’s dead.’
Tom’s answer hit Jasmine like a punch in the stomach. The moment she was kicked replayed in her mind - the thud of something hitting the stone floor, the cry that was cut off abruptly. ‘So, she hanged herself?’
‘Yes. When we got there you were unconscious in a pool of blood and Marilyn Taylor was dangling by her neck with a stool on its side a couple of feet away.’
‘I found her with the chains wound round her neck and she was standing on the stool. I thought she was about to do it then, but she was keen to talk. I got close,’ Jasmine recited, ‘She kicked out at me and caught me, uh, where I’d had the surgery. She must have lost her balance and knocked the stool over.’
‘That sounds like it. She broke her neck.’
‘It was my fault. I’d tried to get close enough to grab her to stop her jumping off that stool, but when she kicked me I collapsed on the floor. She died because I couldn’t help her.’
‘Oh, Jasmine. It’s not your fault,’ Angela said.
To Jasmine it felt very much as if it was. A police officer’s job is to protect people – from themselves as well as others. If she hadn’t gone dashing off on her own, if she’d let Tom or Patel or Hopkins - or even Sloane himself - follow up the lead, perhaps Marilyn Taylor would still be alive and able to tell her story in court.
‘She probably would have done it anyway,’ Tom said, ‘She had enough chain wound around her neck.’
‘She said she was going to.’
‘Well, there you are.’
‘But I wasn’t sure she really meant it.’
‘From what Taylor told us she seemed pretty twisted. Don’t beat yourself up about her.’
‘You closed the case,’ Angela said.
‘With three deaths not just the one,’ Jasmine sighed.
‘But Marilyn Taylor talked to you?’ Tom asked.
‘Oh, yes,’ Jasmine nodded, ‘she told me the whole story about herself, her relationship with Xristal and why Tilly died.’ Another death she was responsible for.
‘Tilly is my fault too,’ Jasmine added.
‘Why?’ Tom and Angela asked together.
‘Because I told the Taylors that she was working as a prostitute at the flat and Marilyn went to tell her she was being evicted.’
‘That’s just an excuse,’ Tom said, ‘Taylor has told us that they knew what Tilly was up to before we – that’s you and me - mentioned it. Marilyn Taylor was just trying to pass her guilt on to you.’
‘There you see, Jas. It’s not your fault and that woman was to blame for all the deaths, including her own,’ Angela took Jasmine’s hand in hers and squeezed it.
‘Thanks, Ange,’ Jasmine said sadly, ‘I know you’re right, but there’s still the feeling that three people are dead who shouldn’t be.’
‘You’re a detective, Jas, not someone who can magically manage people’s lives.’
‘Hmm, some detective. Thrashing around getting nowhere and then getting the answers when it’s too late.’
‘Well, at least we have solved this case,’ Tom said. ‘Look, I’m sorry Jas, but we’ll have to get a detailed statement from you as soon as you feel you’re up to it so we can close the file on this one. You know what Sloane is like for wrapping things up.’
‘And what am I like, Shepherd?’
Tom leapt to his feet as Jasmine looked up to see the grey-suited bulk of Chief Insp
ector Sloane filling the doorway. ‘Glad to see you back with us, Frame,’ he said in his deep growl of a voice.
What the hell’s he here for? Jasmine wondered. Surely not to enquire after her health. She couldn’t think what to say to him.
‘Have my seat, sir,’ Tom said gesturing to the chair he had vacated.
‘No, I won’t sit. Just called to see how Frame was and make sure you got back to work, Shepherd.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Although Tom was a few inches taller than his boss he suddenly seemed like a schoolboy bunking off from lessons.
‘Now then, Frame. I believe you have quite a story to tell us. Not just about this Taylor woman, but also about how that Potts character came to hand herself in while Shepherd and I were scurrying around the country looking for the dead girl’s clients.’
Jasmine noticed Tom looking at her accusingly. ‘That’s right, Jas. You didn’t tell us you had located Honey Potts.’
‘I’ll explain it all,’ Jasmine said. How angry was Sloane? He was not likely to approve of the manner in which she had pursued her side of the investigation while keeping the rest of the team in the dark.
‘I should hope so,’ Sloane said, ‘I’ll send someone to take your statement. Not immediately, but as soon as you’ve recovered a little.’
‘Thank you,’ Jasmine found herself saying.
‘Come on then, Shepherd. You have a report to write.’ Sloane turned away.
‘Yes, sir.’ Tom started to follow obediently, but paused and turned back to Jasmine. ‘I’ll look in later. See how you’re doing. By the way, when we searched that basement flat we found a laptop and handbag.’
‘You mean Xristal’s?’
‘Yes. Her phone was in the bag along with the tickets for her return flight to Bangkok’
‘So she did have it all arranged?’ Jasmine said.
‘Seems like it.’ Tom put a hand in his jacket pocket. ‘Oh, and we found this when we searched the flat. We think it may be yours.’ He lobbed something into Jasmine’s lap. She grabbed hold of it and picked it up to examine it. It was a hard, white plastic ball. Tom hurried after his departing boss.