by P R Ellis
Geraldine walked forward, stopping in front of the Registrar. Petula and Donna moved to the right to stand in front of the first row of seats. Both looked grave but while Petula kept her eyes on Geraldine, Donna turned her head almost furtively catching sight of Jasmine as well as Emma. She looked away quickly.
The march came to a conclusion followed by a brief period of silence, then Handel’s joyful Arrival of the Queen of Sheba began. This time some of the guests did look round but Jasmine resisted the temptation. A few moments passed before the lead couple drew level with her and she saw that Melody was arm in arm with an elderly gentleman in a dark morning suit. He was presumably her father. Melody wore a long sleeveless gown of silk taffeta that cupped but revealed the ample curve of her breasts. She carried an identical bouquet to Geraldine and her face was also covered by a veil. The corners of her train were held by her two bridesmaids, Samantha and Tammy who both wore the same dresses as Petula and Donna and carried the same posies.
Melody drew level with Geraldine and stopped with her father by her side. Samantha and Tammy arranged the train flat on the floor then moved to the front row of seats on the left. The music faded out and the Registrar greeted the brides and guests with a broad smile. The ceremony began.
Jasmine was relieved to hear the familiar words of the civil marriage service rather than the adapted and frankly weird vows that she had had to recite the previous day. Very soon she stopped listening as she looked at the backs of the Belles in front of her – the two brides, the four bridesmaids plus Flamboyancé. Samantha was swaying slightly and Jasmine guessed that she was suffering from the excesses of the night before. At one point she leaned for support on Tammy but at least she didn’t seem on the verge of collapse or about to disrupt the proceedings with projectile vomiting.
One of you killed Vokins, Jasmine thought, but which one? She wondered what the aged leader of the Wedding Belles would have made of this ritual. This was real and meaningful, she felt, the legal joining together of two people who were in love, one who had exchanged genders and the other who moved between them. They spoke their vows with honesty and joy, dedicating each to the other in the hearing of family and friends. What had the others seen in Vokins’ sham of a service, she wondered? She accepted that dressing up was a joy, but how could the oft-repeated dedication to the Belles be anything other than a pale imitation of a wedding. Perhaps that was why Vokins had been against this celebration forming part of his weekend. Jasmine tended to agree with him. To her the rest of the weekend seemed tawdry and pointless, but apparently the avid members of the Belles felt otherwise.
Which of them was now feeling worried about the possibility of being found out? Would their nerve hold? Jasmine rather hoped that at some point one of them would make a run for the exit and reveal themselves. That would let her off the hook but it seemed an unlikely scenario since the killer had held out for this long since the murder without giving themselves away. Jasmine thought through what she knew about each of the figures whose backs she was staring at. How did their love of dressing up in wedding gowns tie in with their antipathy to Vernon/Valerie Vokins and their varied backgrounds and personalities? Gay drag queen Freddie/Flamboyancé and her quiet partner; drunkard, divorcee Samantha/Patrick; Afro-Caribbean, single, laidback Tammy/Clive; nervous, wary, failed killer, Donna/Matthew; jobsworth, long-suffering carer, Petula/Richard; urbane, serial lover, romantic Gerald/Geraldine; and plump, jolly Melody the only one actually living a feminine life. They each had motive and opportunity and Jasmine felt no closer to an answer despite having tentatively crossed off some from her list of suspects.
Vows were repeated, rings exchanged, the couple were pronounced married and they kissed. The Registrar led the two brides, the bridesmaids and Melody’s father and brother to the side where the marriage certificate had to be signed. The guests sat down with some relief and Sally commanded her laptop to bring forth pleasant music – Lloyd-Webber’s “Pie Jesu”. The signing was soon completed but the wedding party remained chatting quietly to the Registrar and each other until the piece reached a conclusion. There was the briefest of pauses and the fanfare of Wagner’s “Wedding March” began.
Geraldine took Melody’s hand and together they moved back to the middle of the room and started the procession up the aisle. The walked slowly, close together, gripping their bouquets in their spare hands and with their voluminous dresses crushed together. They smiled at the guests on their left and right as they passed by. Samantha and Tammy followed behind holding Melody’s train and then came Melody’s father with Petula and Andrew with Donna. As they moved up the aisle the guests filtered out of their rows to join the procession.
Jasmine took her turn, leading Wendy and Katie from their row. There was a fluttering in her stomach. The formal part of the wedding was over; now she would have the chance to talk with the Belles, to make her deductions. The time was coming when she had to reveal her conclusions.
23
Jasmine shivered in the dull, grey November light. It wasn’t bright sunshine like yesterday but at least it was dry so the photographer was taking a few, hurried shots of Melody and Geraldine, the bridesmaids and the guests in the hotel garden. Melody’s brother, Andrew, was clicking off photos on his own camera when not required to be in the picture himself and other guests were using their phones. The flashes brightened the scene considerably despite it being shortly after midday. Jasmine watched Robbie taking photos on an iPhone, exclusively of Flamboyancé; the married couple only featured by chance.
Jasmine noticed Sally Edwards emerge from the back door of the Pang Wing. For once she did not have Petula pushing her as the bridesmaid was in demand in the photos. Jasmine sauntered over to her, keen for the opportunity to speak to her alone.
‘They all seem happy,’ Jasmine said.
Sally looked up at her. ‘Oh, hello, uh, Sindy, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right.’
Sally’s expression remained serious. ‘Why shouldn’t they be happy. A couple making their vows to each other, committing their lives to one another.’
‘Like you and Petula. You seem a very close couple.’
‘Richard looks after me,’ Sally replied.
‘And you’ve done a lot this weekend to support him – looking after all the music, I mean.’
‘I do my bit.’
‘I suppose Petula has had to do a lot more without Valerie.’
Sally glared up at Jasmine. ‘Richard is more than capable of taking over from Vernon.’
‘Of course,’ Jasmine said, surprised at Sally’s vehemence. ‘I gather that Valerie didn’t know how to delegate.’
‘Hmph. Didn’t want to, more like.’
‘And I heard that she wasn’t in favour of this wonderful occasion taking place on her weekend.’
Sally’s expression turned sour. ‘He’d have done his best to spoil it.’
‘Really?’ Jasmine exaggerated her surprise. ‘How can you be sure of that?’
‘Oh, I knew Vernon for long enough to know the tricks he got up to. Setting one member against another, belittling Richard’s efforts, accusing Matthew of stealing from the funds.’
‘So, was his death a surprise?’
‘I’m not surprised he was murdered. I thought the story of his suicide was incredible.’
‘You didn’t think he’d kill himself.’
Sally laughed. ‘Vernon? No. He thought he was immortal and he wouldn’t want to give up controlling everyone.’
‘So who do you think murdered him?’
Sally studied her face, ‘I don’t care. Every one of them wanted to, I bet. I would just like to congratulate whoever it was.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why are you so keen to know anyway, Sindy? You are a strange one. Younger than everyone else, even Freddie,’ she looked Jasmine up and down, ‘and so much more attractive dressed as a woman than that lot.’
Jasmine found herself explaining herself again. ‘It’s because I found myself mixed up in this murder when
all I’d wanted was a weekend in the company of other wedding fans.’
‘Company? I’m not sure you get much company from this bunch of show offs. Even Richard becomes a prima donna when he pulls on a dress.’
Jasmine heard raised voices.
‘. . . everybody. Last photo before we go in out of the cold.’
‘Can you push me please?’ Sally asked.
Jasmine moved behind the wheelchair and started pushing. She was surprised by the conversation. She had had Sally down as the obedient wife, dependent on her caring husband. In fact, she apparently had a pretty sour opinion of the whole gathering and of Vokins in particular, but she hadn’t given Jasmine any clues to the identity of the murderer.
They joined the rush to join the cluster of guests facing the photographer. Petula broke from the group and took the handles of the chair from Jasmine.
‘Thank you, Sindy.’ He leaned over Sally’s head. ‘I’m sorry Sally darling, I got caught up in the photographs.’
Sally waved her hand dismissively. ‘That’s alright, Richard, Sindy and I were having a chat.’ Petula pushed Sally to the front of the group with the other bridesmaids.
Jasmine hovered at the back making sure she wasn’t in the camera’s view. She didn’t think that once this was over the happy couple would want her in their wedding album.
The photos were taken and then there was a stampede back into the building. Like the day before, the dividing wall had been folded back revealing the buffet and tables. There was one oval table in the centre and a few smaller circular tables around it. Jasmine counted the number of chairs around the large table and confirmed that there were places for the brides, the bridesmaids, Emma, Sally and Melody’s father and brother, ten in all. The two brides however remained outside while everyone else picked up glasses of sparkling wine from the buffet table and stood in a haphazard fashion wondering what to do next. Jasmine noticed DC Patel slip through the door and take a seat discretely in the corner of the room. Then Petula gave some orders and the four bridesmaids formed a guard of honour. The two brides came in, arm in arm, passed between the four mauve guardians and were greeted by claps and cheers by the small but cheerful crowd. Jasmine joined in enthusiastically.
Melody and Geraldine took their seats and the other high table guests joined them. There was a scramble amongst the other guests to find a place at a smaller table, each of which seated just four. Jasmine found herself with Robbie and Flamboyancé and a man of about fifty who introduced himself as Melody’s surgeon, Alexander Ainsley.
Jasmine looked around to see what they were expected to do about eating. Two young men stood behind the buffet table and two waitresses were already serving the main table. There was a tap of spoon on wine glass. Petula had risen from her seat.
‘Apparently as Best Girl and Chief Bridesmaid it is my duty to urge you to help yourselves to the buffet. Enjoy.’ She sat down as about half the other guests rose and began a determined movement towards the food like the dash to be first in the January Sales queue. Flamboyancé and Robbie rose but Mr Ainsley remained in his seat.
‘I think I’ll wait till the queue has lessened somewhat,’ he said.
‘Me too,’ Jasmine said, surveying the impatient diners. ‘Excuse me, but it seems unusual for the bride’s surgeon to be invited to her wedding.’
Ainsley chuckled, ‘It certainly is. A first for me. I’ve carried out hundreds of gender reassignments but few of my patients have gone on to get married, certainly to my knowledge. This is the first time I have been invited as a guest.’
‘I suppose it’s only been eight years since the GRA allowed transmen and women to marry in their assigned gender.’
Ainsley nodded. ‘That is true. Mind you that is not the only reason why Melody is the first. We became better acquainted than is usual with my patients.’
‘Oh? Why was that?’
‘I’m afraid the operation was delayed and cancelled a number of times, sometimes because Melody’s excess weight jeopardised her health under the anaesthetic – she’s a lot fitter now – and sometimes because of, let’s call it, management issues.’
Jasmine looked at plump figure of Melody tucking into a plateful of food, imagining her in a less fit state.
‘But I have to say,’ Ainsley went on, ‘that Melody is one of my best and I am delighted that she and Gerald, or rather Geraldine, are a fully functioning couple.’
Jasmine was amused by the medical indiscretions of the surgeon. Surely only a gender reassignment surgeon could take such an interest in the sex-life of their patients and chalk it up as a one of their successes when they had sexual intercourse with a man.
‘The queue has thinned. Shall we eat?’ she said. Ainsley agreed, so together they went to the buffet and loaded their plates, then re-joined Flamboyancé and Robbie. While they were eating, Petula tapped her glass again and stood up.
‘It’s been suggested that we get the speeches over between courses.’ Groans greeted Petula’s announcement. ‘At least it will ensure that we get them over quickly.’ There were cheers. Petula introduced Melody’s father who stood and mumbled a few short sentences ending with a toast to Melody and Geraldine. Everyone stood and echoed the toast. Then Petula urged Geraldine onto her feet. She thanked everyone and toasted the bridesmaids which got everyone to their feet again with calls for glasses to be re-filled. After a short pause to do just that, Petula made her “Best Girl” speech. Jasmine had to admit that Sally was right in that Petula more than rose to the occasion. Her speech was filled with gentle quips about Melody and Geraldine who she had known for many years. She ended with a toast to the guests which was answered enthusiastically.
Then it was pudding time. Once again a queue formed at the buffet but dispersed somewhat quicker than before. Jasmine, Ainsley, Flamboyancé and Robbie each spooned trifles and meringue into their mouths.
‘What about you, Sindy?’ Ainsley said.
‘Me?’ Jasmine replied, surprised by his question.
‘Pardon me for being impertinent but I do have an eye for these things,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I can see that you are wearing a wig, and have the slightly broader shoulders that are a feature of masculinity. Your voice too is in the lower register of a male, but your skin and muscle tone and figure, though it may be enhanced, and general demeanour signal to me that you too are a transwoman. Who was your surgeon?’
Jasmine felt a blush rising from her neck but found words spilling out of her unbidden. ‘I haven’t had my operation, yet. I’m still waiting, but I did have a biorchidectomy back in September.’
‘Ah, I see. I apologise for intruding,’ Ainsley bowed his head, ‘I’m afraid my interest in my field of work sometimes leads to embarrassment.’
Jasmine didn’t want to make a fuss, despite indeed feeling embarrassed, ‘It’s OK.’
‘Well, may I say that your operation was obviously a great success and I hope you complete your reassignment soon.’
‘There I told you.’ Jasmine turned to see that Flamboyancé had been listening to their exchange with great interest and now expressed her satisfaction loudly to Robbie.
‘I said she wasn’t like the others. Sindy’s a bloody TS like Melody.’
Ainsley looked mortified. ‘I’m sorry, Sindy. I didn’t intend to reveal your nature to your friends.’
‘She’s not my friend,’ Flamboyancé said loudly, ‘We only met on Friday evening. And her name’s not Sindy.’
Ainsley blustered. ‘Well I realise you take femme names. . .’
‘It’s not that,’ Flamboyancé interrupted, ‘She’s not even a Belle. She’s an imposter, spying on us. Trying to find out who killed Valerie Vokins.’
Jasmine looked on with mounting horror. Flamboyancé’s rant had grown in volume and now the people on the adjacent tables and the top table were looking at them. It didn’t seem to bother the drag queen, however. In fact, she seemed to take the attention of the audience
as a signal to go on.
‘Well, here we are, Sindy or whatever you call yourself. All of us suspects gathered together. Just like an Agatha Christie isn’t it. Why don’t you do your Poirot impersonation? Or should it be Miss Marple? Tell us which of us is Valerie’s killer.’
Jasmine felt light-headed but could see the eyes of every member of the party on her, all except those of Sasha Patel who was frantically tapping at her mobile phone.
24
‘Is this true?’ Petula bellowed from the top table while rising to her feet.
Pretending was no longer an option. Neither was running. Jasmine had wondered how this investigation would end. She had thought that she might just describe her observations and conclusions to Tom Shepherd or perhaps DCI Sloane and then slip away; or alternatively she might have gone home and written up a report; but Sloane and Tom wanted the killer revealed and behind bars before the end of the weekend. She realised it had always been going to come to this – all the Wedding Belles assembled and waiting for her judgement.
She took a deep breath, removed the napkin from her lap, folded it and laid it on the table next to her dessert dish. She pushed her chair back and rose to her feet.
‘Yes, it is,’ she said softly. Some phlegm, or a speck of meringue, caught in her throat. She coughed and cleared it and then spoke more confidently. ‘I am Jasmine Frame, a private detective from here in Kintbridge. I was asked by the police to join you as a condition for allowing the weekend to continue following the discovery that Vernon or Valerie Vokins had been murdered.’ She pulled the fascinator and brown wig off her head and ran her fingers through her blonde hair. It was a relief to feel the air on her head. She dropped the wig onto her chair. It sat there like some mangy cat.