Molly's Boudoir: the 4th Jasmine Frame novel (Jasmine Frame Detective)

by P R Ellis

  ‘You are an attractive woman,’ Hamid said then hesitated, ‘’I’m sorry, perhaps I should not comment on your appearance. You may consider it harassment.’

  Jasmine laughed. ‘No, I’ll take any compliments I can get. But I know I have some way to go. A speech therapist is helping me adjust my voice. Some transwomen have surgery on their larynx to raise their tone of voice. I still give myself away to some people. Mrs Bunting recognised what I was almost immediately, yesterday.’

  ‘It must be annoying for you being labelled as transsexual.’

  ‘Yes, especially as I don’t consider myself that anymore.’

  ‘No?’ Hamid appeared confused.

  ‘I was transsexual before and during my transition. Now I am fully female; I’m just a woman and my certificate says so.’

  ‘Oh!’

  Jasmine decided to move the conversation away from herself. ‘What about you Hamid?’

  The young man looked suspicious, ‘Me? I am not trans.’

  Jasmine chuckled. ‘Of course not. I meant as a member of a minority. Have you met any prejudice?’

  Hamid shrugged. ‘A little. I don’t let it bother me.’

  ‘What about Sasha?’

  The officer was confused. ‘DC Patel?’

  ‘Yes. Do you get on – you being Muslim and her Hindu?’

  ‘She has been very helpful to me since I joined the unit. We don’t let our religions interfere with our work.’

  Jasmine realised that she was in danger of speaking out of turn but she couldn’t stop herself. ‘How about Terry? He wasn’t too “helpful” to me when I was transitioning.’

  Hamid drew in a breath. ‘DC Hopkins is a proud Englishman.’

  Jasmine was impressed by Hamid’s reticence then became aware of a looming presence. She turned her head to see Tom standing beside her.

  ‘I’m glad you two have got to know each other,’ he said.

  ‘Hi, Tom. We were having an interesting conversation. Are you ready to call on Harriet Bunting?’

  ‘Yes, but we’re paying a visit to the scene of the crime first. Charlotte has called to say they’ve found something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A cellar.’

  Jasmine was surprised. ‘A cellar. Didn’t they know it was there?’

  ‘No. The access door is in that middle room. It was hidden behind debris from the fire and they’ve only just started doing a thorough sweep in there.’

  Jasmine recalled standing in the poorly lit room with the corners in shadows. She could see the heaps of burnt and sodden stock and the mysterious remains of the silicone body parts. It was easy to imagine a door to a lower floor being mistaken for a cupboard.

  ‘Charlotte says there are things we might like to see down there which may or may not have a bearing on the investigation.’

  Jasmine was excited. ‘Sounds intriguing. Let’s go.’

  ‘You come too, Hamid,’ Tom said, ‘We have to question the neighbours again.’

  Tom navigated them through the Kintbridge traffic and out on to the A road to Thirsbury. Jasmine saw his eyes in the mirror looking at her.

  ‘Did you get anywhere with those files, Jas?’ he asked.

  Jasmine was pleased to respond. ‘Hmm, sort of. I was able to piece together some of Evelyn’s business accounts.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘The business was in a poor way. Cash flow problems.’

  ‘Bad enough to burn the place down for the insurance?’ Tom asked

  ‘Possibly. She did have at least one policy. I found the name of the brokers and have asked them for details.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Oh, and it looks as though she recently paid out a large sum to the Gary Nicholls who appeared on the list of contacts. It is balanced by an almost equally large sum paid into the account, but I can’t tell where that came from.’

  ‘Sales?’ Tom suggested.

  ‘It seems too large for that, certainly compared with the level of business she was getting normally.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Tom mused. ‘You were looking into Nicholls, Hamid. Get anything?’

  ‘Some,’ the young officer said gladly, ‘he lives just outside Kintbridge and seems to own a few small businesses. In fact, he was listed as a director of Molly’s.’

  ‘Really,’ Tom said, ‘so what was his relationship with Evelyn and Harriet Bunting?’

  ‘A partner?’ Jasmine said, ‘Perhaps Evelyn bought him out.’

  ‘I wonder why,’ Tom said as they pulled up outside the burnt-out shop.

  9

  THURSDAY 17th OCTOBER

  LATE MORNING

  Jasmine got out of the car and looked around. There were still a few police cars and vans parked in the high street close to the Bunting’s property. With Tom and Hamid, Jasmine ducked under the tape marking off the restricted zone, nodded to the bored police officer and headed towards the entrance. They paused to pull on the disposable overalls. Jasmine was getting familiar again with the task of doing up the zip of the garment over her skirt. Once all three were encased they stepped inside and moved straight into the middle room. There were more lights in there now and a door under the stairs was open. Jasmine recalled that the remains of a mannequin and the melted remains of a body suit had stood there previously. Tom stepped towards the entrance to the cellar and called out.

  ‘Charlotte! Are you down there?’

  A reply came from below. ‘Hi, Tom. Come on down.’

  ‘There’s Jasmine and Hamid too.’

  ‘That’s okay. There’s room.’

  Tom ducked his head as he passed through the doorway and started down the steps. Jasmine followed. The open stone steps descended into a space that wasn’t quite as large as the two rooms the shop occupied on the ground floor and had a low ceiling. Jasmine stepped onto a stone floor.

  There were electric lights on stands on both sides of the stairs illuminating the two halves of the cellar. Before she took in what she could see it was the feel of the place that Jasmine experienced. The lights had not banished the shadows and it felt cold, colder than the floor above. There was a smell too that mystified her; not damp or mould, but a more human mixture of sweat and urine.

  To her left, Tom was standing with his neck bent, wary of the ceiling just above his head. The lights picked out a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a dressing table, all in dark wood, and a high backed easy chair. It seemed to Jasmine to be a bedroom without the bed. She turned and looked to the right and saw a different scene. In the far corner was a cage, about a metre in height, slightly more in length but less in width. Inside the cage was a steel dog bowl and old-fashioned china chamber-pot. In the middle of the floor of the room was an object resembling a low vaulting horse covered in shiny brown leather. There were small rings at the base of each of the four legs. Against a wall was a wooden rack containing a collection of implements. Jasmine did not need to examine each to decide that they were whips, paddles and crops.

  ‘Excuse me, Jasmine,’ a voice said behind her.

  ‘Oh, sorry, Hamid.’ Jasmine moved to Tom’s side in the homely surroundings of the dressing room. Charlotte Lockyear was facing them.

  ‘What have you got?’ Tom asked.

  ‘I think this is where Evelyn Bunting kept her clothes and where she dressed and made up,’ the crime scene examiner said. ‘We were wondering why we didn’t find her belongings upstairs in the bedroom. Only Mrs Bunting had stuff in the cupboards and drawers up there.’

  ‘Okay,’ Tom said turning around, ‘and the other side?’

  ‘I think you can guess,’ Charlotte said. ‘The Buntings didn’t keep a dog so I think we know who spent time in the cage.’

  ‘It’s a dungeon,’ Jasmine said, ‘where Harriet kept Evelyn and punished her.’

  ‘What do you mean by “punished”?’ Hamid said. His eyes were wide as they surveyed the cellar.

  ‘Those marks that Dr Winslade found on Evelyn’s buttocks and thighs,’ Jasmine explained, ‘were the
result of whippings and spankings using the implements in the rack over there. I imagine that Evelyn was fastened by her wrists and ankles over the leather stool there in the middle.’

  ‘Why was she punished?’ Hamid asked.

  ‘For her and Harriet’s satisfaction,’ Jasmine said. ‘It’s all part of their sub-dom relationship.’

  Hamid shook his head. ‘How could a man allow a woman to do that to him?’

  ‘It turns some men on,’ Jasmine offered as an explanation.

  Tom interrupted. ‘Is there anything relevant to the murder and fire?’

  ‘It doesn’t look like it,’ Charlotte answered. ‘It’s unaffected by the fire – the walls and floor are stone and the ceiling is very well insulated, for heat and sound. The fire wasn’t able to penetrate from the floor above.’

  ‘What are you looking for?’ Jasmine asked.

  ‘Any other DNA material,’ the CSE replied, ‘Is there evidence that people other than Harriet and Evelyn Bunting used this space.’

  Jasmine nodded. ‘That would give us a fuller picture of how their relationship worked. When will you know?’

  ‘A couple of days to find out how many different samples we have. Rather longer to identify them, if that is possible in all the cases. We have Evelyn’s and Harriet’s DNA. It’s the other persons who might turn up that may be the problem.’

  The three detectives nodded in unison. Tom glanced at his watch.

  ‘Okay, we’ll leave you to it Charlotte. We’re late for our appointment with Mrs Bunting. Hamid. I’d like you to visit the neighbours again, including the houses behind. We know now that at least one person was at the property after Evelyn died. Let’s see if anyone saw anything. Also see if anyone can corroborate the time that Harriet Bunting says she left. Oh, and see what people know about Gary Nicholls.’

  Hamid was scribbling in his notebook. ‘Got it, Sir.’ He turned and hurried up the stairs. Jasmine followed, a little more slowly. Tom came along behind, cursing when he banged his head on the ceiling.

  They exited the shop and dragged the overalls off, dumping them in a plastic box provided for them. Hamid went off alone.

  ‘Mrs Bunting is staying in The Anglers. Seems she likes the best,’ Tom said.

  ‘Thirsbury’s not short of good hotels,’ Jasmine replied.

  ‘Do you know it?’

  ‘Angela and I had dinner there once, I think.’

  ‘It’s just down in the centre of town, isn’t it? Shall we walk? Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m not an invalid, Tom. I need to exercise.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Well, come on then.’

  They set off down the gentle hill, soon finding themselves amongst the townspeople going about their business. They reached the old coaching inn and Jasmine followed Tom inside. He approached the reception desk and showed his ID.

  ‘Mrs Harriet Bunting is expecting us,’ he said.

  The male receptionist nodded and pointed into the lounge. Jasmine looked and saw Mrs Bunting relaxing on a leather sofa.

  She looked up as Tom and Jasmine walked towards her.

  ‘Ah, Inspector. You’re late.’

  Tom and Jasmine stood in front of her. ‘Yes, Mrs Bunting, we’ve just been visiting the cellar in your property.’ The gentle hubbub of the other guests died away a little as some guests stopped their conversations and listened in.

  Jasmine noted that there wasn’t a hint of a flush on the woman’s cheeks. Having the scene of her sexual adventures with her husband revealed did not seem to embarrass her. However, she did rise to her feet.

  ‘I suppose you want to ask more questions,’ she said, ‘it may be better if we went somewhere more private. We don’t want to shock the guests do we.’

  ‘That might be the case,’ Tom agreed.

  ‘Come to my room.’ She led them from the lounge, back into the foyer and up the grand central staircase. On the first floor, they walked a short way down a corridor lined with pictures of fish until Mrs Bunting stopped and opened a door. They stepped inside a large bedroom with a king size bed and the fresh smell of potpourri. A couple of easy chairs stood by a window looking over the High Street. Mrs Bunting went to sit down. Tom picked up an upright chair that was beside the dressing table.

  ‘You take the other chair, Jas,’ he said. He placed his chair between the two easy chairs and when it was clear that Jasmine and Mrs Bunting were comfortable he sat down.

  ‘Now why do you want to see me,’ Harriet said in a voice that made it clear that she wasn’t prepared for small talk.

  ‘We wondered if you had thought of anything else we should know since we last met,’ Tom said.

  ‘My husband has been killed, my home destroyed, my clothes ruined, and my private life revealed for your grubby little minds to whisper about. What else can I say?’ The woman’s nostrils flared.

  Jasmine was impressed by Tom’s calm response. ‘We are doing all we can to find who killed Evelyn and set fire to your property, Mrs Bunting, but we do hope that you can assist us in any way that you can.’

  Harriet was hardly mollified but she answered. ‘Well, ask your questions. I haven’t got much time. I’m moving out shortly.’

  ‘Oh, where have you found to stay?’ Jasmine asked in her sweetest voice.

  ‘A friend has invited me to their home.’

  ‘We do need to know how to contact you,’ Tom said.

  ‘Of course, Inspector. I shall give you the address.’

  ‘Who is the friend you are staying with?’ Jasmine asked wondering if it would be a name that had occurred previously.

  ‘Oh, I am not staying with them,’ Harriet said, ‘They are loaning me their house for the time being.’

  ‘Oh,’ Jasmine said, lost for words. Harriet obviously had generous and well-off friends.

  ‘It’s not your friend, Tyler Smith’s home, is it?’ Tom asked.

  ‘No, it isn’t.’

  ‘We haven’t tracked him down yet to ask him some questions,’ Tom went on.

  ‘What questions?’

  ‘Well, mainly to check the times that you gave us for when you left home on the day of the fire.’

  ‘You can ask him that in a minute. He’s coming to pick me up any time now.’

  ‘He’s acting as your chauffeur again, is he?’ Jasmine said.

  Harriet glared at her. ‘He is a friend who is willing to assist me at this troubling time.’ She focussed on Tom. ‘Now do you have any more of your questions, Inspector.’

  ‘Well yes, there are a few,’ Tom said, ‘Can you tell us anything about Gary Nicholls.’

  ‘I know him,’ Mrs Bunting replied.

  Tom persisted. ‘How well do you know him?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Is he a friend, or a business acquaintance?’

  ‘He was a friend and he took a share in Molly’s when we started out, several years ago now.’

  Jasmine asked. ‘Is he a shareholder now?’

  Harriet looked at her for a moment before answering. ‘No. Evelyn bought his share.’

  ‘That must have stretched your finances,’ Jasmine commented, ‘Was the business able to sustain the expense?’

  ‘Of course it did.’ Harriet replied, ‘What are you suggesting? That Molly’s was going bankrupt.’

  ‘How was the business doing?’ Tom asked.

  ‘I’ve told you before that Evelyn looked after Molly’s,’ Mrs Bunting did at last appear to Jasmine to be a little flustered, but Tom pressed on.

  ‘Was your fire insurance up to date?’

  ‘What has that got to do with Evelyn’s murder?’ the wife countered.

  Tom spoke quietly, ‘There is a suggestion that the fire was started deliberately in order to claim the insurance money.’

  ‘Ridiculous!’ Harriet replied.

  There was a polite tap on the door and after a very short pause it opened. Jasmine turned to see a tall young man with dark skin – very dark – enter. He was wearing a designer suit in
a medium blue.

  ‘Ah, Harriet,’ he said in a smooth, southern English accent. ‘Reception told me you were in.’

  Harriet rose speedily to her feet and crossed the room to present her cheek to the visitor. He stooped to give her a chaste peck.

  ‘Tyler. How good of you to come,’ she said.

  Tom also got up from his chair and advanced towards the couple.

  ‘Tyler Smith I believe.’

  ‘That’s correct. You are…?’

  ‘Detective Inspector Shepherd, and this is Jasmine Frame,’ Tom gestured towards Jasmine, ‘We’re asking some questions relating to the death of Mr Bunting and the fire at Molly’s. I gather you were with Mrs Bunting the night that happened.’

  The speed of Tom’s greeting and question appeared to confuse the young man.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. It’s, er, terrible what’s happened.’

  ‘You picked up Mrs Bunting from the premises in your car?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘At what time?’

  Tyler looked to Harriet, who shrugged.

  ’Um, about four, I think, I’m not sure.’

  ‘You drove into the Cotswolds, I understand,’ Tom went on.

  ‘Yes,’ Tyler replied.

  ‘Where did you stay overnight?’

  ‘The Royal Hotel, Faringdon.’

  ‘There,’ Harriet said, ‘Now you know where we were while my poor husband was being beaten to death and our home and livelihood destroyed. Does that answer your questions, Inspector?’ She stared at him as if daring him to disagree.

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ Tom replied.

  ‘Just let us know where you are staying from now on,’ Jasmine said.

  ‘Of course,’ Mrs Bunting replied and moved to the dressing table where she picked up a pen. She scribbled on the pad of hotel paper that lay there. When she finished, she tore off the top sheet and handed it to Tom.