by P R Ellis
‘Yes, I’ve got a few observations for you, and now we’ve got this,’ she waved the key, ‘we can get that contraption off his penis. I was thinking I was going to have to use the bone saw. Nice to see you again Jasmine.’
They left the doctor and her assistant wheeling the trolley back into the path lab.
Tom drove speedily to Thirsbury and pulled up several metres short of the burnt-out frontage of Molly’s. Harriet stepped out of the car and stood staring at the shattered windows, charred window and door frames and blackened brick. Jasmine stood beside her and examined her face for the emotions that surfaced. The widow’s lips appeared to tremble slightly but she pursed them to prevent a sob escaping.
‘Can I go in?’ she asked in a shaky voice.
Tom strode to the tape that cordoned off the crime scene. ‘I’ll check to see where SOCO have got to.’ He spoke to the police officer that was standing there while Harriet continued to peer into the glassless windows. Jasmine was equally interested in the state of the building. The appearance of the front of the building suggested a very hot and fierce fire. She looked forward to seeing the rest of the property.
Tom returned and beckoned to them. ‘SOCO are glad you’re here. They’ve finished the forensic sweep upstairs. They’d like you to come in and check to see if any of your and, er, your husband’s property is missing.’
‘Missing?’ Harriet asked.
‘Yes,’ Tom nodded, ‘We are not sure whether the murder of Evelyn and the arson are directly connected and whether there was any theft. Perhaps the fire was set to cover up a burglary and your husband got in the way.’
Harriet didn’t reply but pushed past Tom and headed into her home. Tom hurried after her.
‘You must put the overalls on first Mrs Bunting.’
The woman stopped and looked at Tom with disdain. ‘Overalls?’
Tom bent down and pulled a packet from the box by the entrance to the house. He opened it out and revealed the garment to Mrs Bunting.
‘I have to wear that?’ she said showing some disbelief.
‘I’m afraid so. It’s the only way to go inside while the forensics are being done.’
Harriet sniffed and took the proffered overalls. Jasmine stepped forward and offered to help her put them on, but she brushed her away.
‘I think I can dress myself, thank you.’ She stepped into the legs and pulled the top over her shoulders.
‘You too Jas?’ Tom said offering her another packet.
Soon, all three of them were encased in the protective covering. Tom led them to the open and shattered door.
‘Please don’t touch anything and only walk on the footpads,’ He said pointing to the floor. ‘There is wet wreckage everywhere.’
Jasmine followed them into the shop but did not climb the stairs. From the sounds overhead, the first floor seemed quite full of people. Having taken in the heaps of wet and charred clothing she moved in to the middle room. There was very little light, just some autumn daylight filtering in from the window in the room at the rear. There was a similar mess as the front room, but the fire damage appeared a little less severe. The mounds of white material on the floor, that Tom had mentioned, stood out, almost glowing amongst the blackened textiles. She bent to look at them and gently poked one with a latex-covered finger. It was soft but elastic and confirmed her guess. It was silicone rubber used in the prostheses that Bunting sold – breasts, buttocks and thigh padding, and one larger lump must be the remains of a full-body suit. Jasmine recalled the pictures from the website. Men bought these items to give themselves a more feminine body shape, but she struggled to imagine what it must be like to wear them.
Jasmine moved on to the back room, where the body had been discovered. Now there was just an empty space. She looked around hoping that clues might leap at her, but they didn’t. She heard steps coming down the stairs and returned to meet Tom and Mrs Bunting.
‘Anything missing?’ Jasmine asked. Tom shook his head.
Harriet looked indignant. ‘Apparently I can’t remove any of my own belongings. What am I supposed to do for clean clothes? And where am I to stay tonight.’
‘We can help you to arrange accommodation, Mrs Bunting,’ Tom said, ‘And reimburse you for any expenses caused by our investigation.’
‘It’s not money I want, but my knickers and bras and all the rest. I’m not in the mood to go clothes shopping; and there’s my toiletries…’
‘We understand,’ Jasmine said and soothingly as she could, ‘You’ve been away. Don’t you have a suitcase.’
‘I don’t know where that went,’ Harriet said. She glared at Tom. He tried to calm her.
‘It’s at the police station. You had it with you when we took you there.’
Harriet, sniffed, ‘Well, take me back there. I obviously can’t stay here.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Tom said, ‘And we can take you anywhere you want to go to stay tonight.’
‘I’ll take a taxi thank you. I don’t want to be taken in a police car again if I can help it.’ She marched towards the front of the shop and the exit. Tom shrugged.
‘Are you coming, Jas?’
‘I haven’t got any transport either, Tom. I’m with you.’
The silence for the return journey to Kintbridge hung even heavier in the car than on the way to Thirsbury. When they reached the outskirts of the town, Tom asked a question.
‘Now you’ve seen inside your home, Mrs Bunting do you have any more thoughts on who might have set the fire and killed Mr Bunting?’
‘No, I don’t. I think it’s your job to find out who did those things.’
‘What time did you leave yesterday?’
‘It was four o’clock.’
‘And how did you travel to your Cotswold hotel.’
‘By car.’
‘Oh,’ Tom showed interest, ‘Where is your car now?’
‘It wasn’t my car. I don’t drive. I was driven there.’
‘A taxi?’
There was a pause before Mrs Bunting answered. ‘Not a taxi, no.’
‘A friend?’ Jasmine interrupted.
‘Yes, that’s right, a friend.’
‘So, you weren’t alone at this hotel,’ Tom said.
‘Um, No.’ Harriet’s voice had lost its boldness.
‘Who was your friend?’ Jasmine asked.
‘Tyler. Tyler Smith,’ she replied.
‘Tyler?’ Jasmine asked. ‘Is that a male name?’
‘Yes, of course it is. He’s a friend; of us both.’
‘But he accompanied you to this hotel while your husband remained at home,’ Tom went on.
‘Evelyn had work to do. I wanted some relaxation. Tyler offered to come too. There’s no law against that is there.’
‘No…’ Tom said, ‘But we’ll have to meet Mr Smith to confirm your movements last night.’
Harriet leaned forward to speak to Tom. ‘Am I a suspect in my husband’s murder, Inspector?’
‘Just routine questions, Mrs Bunting. We have to establish where everyone was when your husband was killed. Here we are, back at the station.’
Tom and Jasmine escorted Mrs Bunting into the building where she recovered her small suitcase. Having provided her mobile phone number, she marched out.
Tom and Jasmine watched her leave from the foyer.
‘Do you think she did it?’ Tom asked.
‘I think she is determined enough to get whatever she wants and that could include murder and arson,’ Jasmine began, ‘but she almost showed emotion when she saw the state of her house and whenever her husband was mentioned. I don’t think it was her, but I think we need to find out how she and her husband and this Tyler Smith are linked.’
‘Hmm. I think I agree, Jas. I don’t get this sissy thing though, and what’s with that cage around his penis?’
Jasmine frowned. She was quite sure she didn’t understand it either. ‘It’s a complex relationship. She’s dominant, he’s submissive, but he’s also go
t a gender identity issue stirred into the mix.’
‘Does she only dominate him do you think, or has she got others? This Smith bloke for example?’ Tom asked.
‘Is she a professional dominatrix, do you mean? Perhaps, but it could be just in her relationship with Evelyn.’
Tom shook his head, yawned and raised a hand to his mouth.
‘You’re shattered,’ Jasmine observed. ‘Have you had any rest today?’
Tom shook his head. ‘No. I sent Sasha home this morning and was going myself after I called on you but then Harriet Bunting turned up, so I didn’t make it.’
‘I think you’d better get some sleep now before you fall off your perch.’
Tom sighed and his shoulders slumped. ‘Yeah, you’re right. I’ll just go up to the office and see what’s happening.’ He turned towards the secure door.
‘What about me, Tom?’ Jasmine called after him. ‘I haven’t got my car, remember. We’ve missed lunch and I need to get home to do my exercises.’
Tom paused and turned. ‘Exercises?’
‘I thought I mentioned it this morning.’ She pointed at her crotch.
Tom’s pale face turned red. ‘Oh, yes, you did. Look, I’ll take you home. Wait here, I won’t be long.’ He stabbed the key pad by the door and pushed the door open. Jasmine turned to scan the public area. The familiar figure of Sgt Gorman leaned against the desk examining her.
‘Hello GG,’ she said.
‘Back again, Mizz Frame. It’s been a while since we saw you in here.’
Jasmine noted that he still had to emphasise the Ms, but she tried to answer civilly. ‘I’ve been a bit busy since I was last here.’ She tried to remember when she previously entered the police station. It was over a year ago.
‘Have you indeed. You look a bit different.’
I should hope so, Jasmine thought. Years on the hormones, completion of her GRS; a year ago she had been nowhere near the woman she wanted to be. Now she was there, or nearly.
‘Probably grown my hair a bit longer,’ she offered.
GG nodded, ‘I suppose that’s it. Assisting DI Shepherd again, are you?’
‘Apparently,’ Jasmine said and added, ‘DCI Sloane suggested it.’
Sgt Gorman sniffed as if that was enough to dismiss the idea of Sloane requiring the help of someone like Jasmine. ‘Don’t think the guv’nor will be around much longer.’ He turned away and went to the far side of the office, his back to Jasmine.
He’s the second person to suggest that Sloane is about to retire, Jasmine thought. Perhaps it’s true. She turned her attention to the various posters on the wall of the waiting area. Some advertised services for victims, others warned about knife crime and hate-crimes. She was beginning to feel like sitting rather than standing when Tom re-emerged through the door.
‘Let’s go, Jas,’ he said wearily.
‘All under control?’
‘Yes, Sasha is back on duty. She’ll collate the reports of SOCO and the house to house. Perhaps we’ll have more from Dr Winslade by tomorrow. There’s not a lot to do until we get some names of people to question.’
‘You can get some sleep then.’
‘Yes, Sasha will ring me if something comes up. Let’s get you home so you can do these exercises of yours.’ He seemed to have got over the embarrassment of contemplating her stuffing a dilator into her vagina, or perhaps his cheery reference to it was to mask his discomfort with the thought.
Jasmine accompanied him out of the station. ‘Actually, it’s something to eat I need first. What about you? I don’t suppose you’ve had anything since I gave you that toast.’
Tom shook his head. ‘No, but Sophie’s still home, with Abi. She’ll have something ready. You’re right though. I’m starving.’
They got into the car and Tom pulled out into the afternoon traffic.
Jasmine waved to the departing Mondeo and turned towards her front door. Viv’s Audi was parked on the drive and she felt a small leap of joy tempered by apprehension. Viv would be concerned about her being out. As she reached out with the key the front door opened. Viv stood there, a frown on his face.
‘I saw you get out of the car, Jas. Was that Tom Shepherd?’
Jasmine nodded and stepped inside. Viv helped her take her coat off and hung it on the hook.
‘Does that mean you’re working?’ Viv went on.
‘Yes. A murder in Thirsbury.’ Now she was in her own home Jasmine felt tired. No, exhausted. A day out, okay some of it sat in a car, but going from place to place, picking up the facts of the case from Tom and watching and listening to Harriet Bunting, had drained her of energy. Missing lunch hadn’t helped either.
‘You look like you need to sit down, Jas. Do you feel alright?’
That confirmed it. If she looked tired then she must be.
‘I’m fine, just not used to it.’
‘Used to what?’
‘Being on my feet, working, living.’ She went into the lounge and slumped onto the sofa. She glanced at her watch. It wasn’t five yet. ‘You’re early.’
Viv frowned again. ‘Yeah. I finished what had to be done today and I thought I’d get home to see my girlfriend, only to find you weren’t in.’
‘Sorry.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said in a tone that suggested it did. ‘Tell me all about your day.’
Jasmine forced herself back onto her feet. ‘I will but I need to get my dilations done first.’
‘Of course. I’ll get supper on – ‘
‘Great, I’m starving.’
‘I’ll pour a glass of wine and then you can tell me all about your new assignment.’
Jasmine put her fork down in her dish and smiled at Viv.
‘That was wonderful, thanks.’ She always enjoyed his spicy chicken risotto, especially when she had fasted almost all day.
‘My pleasure as always. How do you feel now after a day’s work?’ Viv’s expression showed that he meant what he said and wasn’t kidding her after her weeks of inactivity.
‘It was tiring, but I needed Tom to push me into taking the leap.’
‘You think this case will occupy you for a while?’
‘Unless, Harriet Bunting suddenly confesses I think it’s going to take some work. There are no other obvious suspects and I don’t think it was her.’
‘But this relationship she and her husband had…’ Viv shook his head, ‘I know there are people who are into BDSM but I don’t get it.’
Jasmine shrugged. ‘I don’t either but I think I’m going to have to understand it to get a grasp of the case. There’s the matter of him being a sissy too.’
‘That’s another thing. If he wants to dress as a woman why is it a punishment?’
Jasmine laughed. ‘I’m as confused as you, but I think it’s a question of gender identity and sexuality not being the same thing and both being complicated.
‘Well, good luck to you I say.’ Viv stood up and started clearing the table.
Jasmine leapt up and made a grab for the dishes. ‘Let me clear up. You did the cooking.’
Viv tugged the bowls back. ‘No, If you’re going to be a working girl again, you need to rest. Go and put your feet up. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.’
8
THURSDAY 17th OCTOBER
MORNING
A noise penetrated her sleep. An alarm? No, she hadn’t set one; hadn’t needed to for weeks. What then?
‘Jas! It’s your phone.’ Viv’s voice jogged her fully awake. She opened her eyes, reached an arm across the bedside table and lifted her mobile. She was aware of Viv standing by the bed. In the dim light, she saw he was half-dressed.
‘What time is it?’ she mumbled as she pressed the answer button.
‘Seven,’ Viv growled.
‘Hello, Jas. Are you awake?’ It was Tom’s voice sounding particularly cheery.
‘I am now,’ she replied.
‘Good. We need you here, in the office.’
‘Why?
’
‘We’ve made some progress overnight. Evelyn Bunting’s phone and mobile logs have come through and forensics have managed to get some files off his/her, damn I’m still not sure which it is, laptop.’
‘You’ve got a suspect.’
‘No. There may be a clue amongst what we’ve got but there’s work to do, and DCI Sloane has insisted you’re on the case. He thinks all this sissy and BDSM stuff needs your input.’
‘I’m not sure it’s quite my thing…’
‘You know Sloane, Jas. I need you. Now when can you be here?’
Jasmine sighed. She used to be able to leap out of bed, grab some clothes, any clothes, and be at her desk in minutes. ‘I can’t rush things yet, Tom.’
‘Yes, I know that, Jas.’
‘And I’m not driving yet.’
Viv bent down beside her, ‘I’ll bring her in, Tom.’
‘Oh, hi, Viv. That’d be great. When can I expect you then Jas?’
How long did she need to get her dilations done, get showered, dressed, have breakfast, and not tire herself by rushing?
‘I’ll be with you by half eight.’
‘Great. We’ll have a plan organised by then. Bye, Jas.’ The line clicked off.
Jasmine rested back on the pillow and groaned. Viv leant over her and placed a kiss on her lips.
‘Are you sure you want to do this, Jas? You don’t have to.’
She sat up. ‘Yes, I do. It’s my job.’
Viv shrugged. ‘Okay then. The bathroom’s yours. I’ll get breakfast for both of us. No need to rush yourself – Tom, and Sloane, will wait for you.’
‘Thanks.’
Jasmine stepped into the V&SC unit’s office. It was just as she remembered, despite it being over a year since she had lasted visited. The feelings she had now, she wanted to explore. Once she had felt pride at being part of the team, investigating murders and serious crimes. Then it had been frustration and anger at being side-lined in cases when she had started her transition. When she had been called back as an “advisor” rather than as an official police officer she had been uncomfortable as if she was returning to somewhere she shouldn’t. Now there was little of that discomfort; she felt more confident. No one could question her femininity since she had had the surgery. Physically, if not genetically, she was a woman.