by P R Ellis
A muttering, like the chatter of a flock of sparrows, filled the room. Petula tapped her wine glass frantically. The noise reduced till there was silence.
‘Do you mean that it was known from the start that Valerie had been murdered?’ Petula asked glaring like a judge at Jasmine.
Now was the time for the whole truth, Jasmine decided. ‘Yes. There had been a clumsy attempt to make it look like a suicide, but it was obvious to the pathologist and the investigating officers that Vokins had been deliberately killed.’
‘That story this morning . . .’ Petula began.
‘Was another ploy to try and get the killer to reveal themselves to me and the police.’
‘Why you?’ Petula asked.
‘I’m transgendered,’ Jasmine said, growing in confidence, ‘a pre-op transsexual if you prefer, some way through my transition. I was a police officer and I have worked with the police before. It was thought that someone who knew about the trans scene would have a chance of being accepted. I can’t say that I had experience of wearing wedding dresses and joining in marriage ceremonies however.’
There were one or two inaudible comments which Jasmine couldn’t decide were for or against the success of her roleplay.
Petula drew herself up to her full height to make herself look imperious. Jasmine thought she did resemble a somewhat taller than life Queen Victoria.
‘Well, since you have disrupted this happy occasion, spoiled the nuptials of the married couple, perhaps you should do as Freddie said and tell us who the killer is.’
Jasmine saw Tom Shepherd enter the room and stand by the door. He held his hands open in gesture of “what do we do now?” Jasmine held up her hand in the signal for “Stop”. It was her on the spot. This was her last chance to identify the murderer. But who was it?
‘I’m sorry Melody, Geraldine, for this, um, interruption,’ she said, trying to send good vibes to the wedding couple. ‘I really do understand what today means to you even though I found yesterday quite incomprehensible.’ She took a breath. ‘You’re right Petula, it would be good if we can end this now so that the innocent amongst you can get on with the celebrations. I am sure however, all of you want to know the story of Vokins’ murder so that you can understand the reasons behind what has happened this weekend and can trust my conclusions.’
There were mumbled “ayes” and Petula sat down in her seat. Jasmine took a few steps towards the top table and began to slowly walk around it.
‘As I said, the murder of Vernon Vokins was made to look like a suicide but was obviously carried out by a person inexperienced in the art of killing. Indeed, the murder was perhaps carried out with little or no forethought. An opportunistic killing. Nevertheless, the killer left no obvious clues to their identity. Perhaps in the days to come forensic evidence collected at the scene of the crime will point to the person who carried out this killing. Amazingly small samples of saliva or sweat carry cells which contain the DNA that can identify the persons who were at the scene. But in a few days all the attendees would have dispersed to their homes and the killer may have taken the opportunity to escape overseas.’
Jasmine took a breath and looked around at all the eyes focussed on her. ‘The circumstances of the murder suggested that the murderer was known to the victim and hence was probably one of his close associates, that is a member of the Wedding Belles. That is why it was decided to keep all the suspects together by allowing the weekend to continue and why I was brought in to observe and perhaps push the killer into revealing themselves.’
‘Who is it then?’ Samantha called out.
‘Oh, give her a chance,’ Flamboyancé replied, ‘This is just like one of those old murder mysteries. Let her tell the story.’
Jasmine welcomed the interruption because she had no idea what to say next. Freddie had made a suggestion though. Tell the story. Put into words what she knew. Perhaps the answer would come to her.
‘I arrived late on Friday evening. I met up with Belinda, who incidentally I already knew, and I met a number of you. Of course at that time I knew little about you or Vokins but I understand now why you were surprised at my arrival. I agree that had Valerie been alive there was no chance that I or anyone would have been allowed to join you at such a late stage. She was indeed a meticulous organiser who would not have tolerated such a disruption of her plans for the weekend and certainly not from someone, like me, of whom she had no knowledge. Because that is what we have learned, that is, the police officers and me. Vernon Vokins knew everything about each of the Wedding Belles, their likes and dislikes, their foibles and misdemeanours. You all knew that and you knew why. It was to control you.’
A bout of mumbling broke out, particularly amongst the occupants of the top table. Jasmine noticed that the other guests were listening avidly, thoroughly immersed in this performance. She took a deep breath and continued.
‘What I have wondered all weekend is why all of you Belles kept coming back time after time despite Vokins’ manipulations and abuse. What is it about dressing up in wedding gowns? I still don’t know but I can empathise. From the time that I first tried on my sister’s skirts and tights, being a girl has been an urge for me. It was a need that grew and grew until I knew that I couldn’t stay as the man I had grown up as. I had to be Jasmine. So I understand this drive which ignores all the downsides, all the hassle, all Vokins’ put-downs. But what was it that drove Vokins? Obviously, he too felt the need to become a bride but there was more to it for him. Organising the Wedding Belles’ events and organising you gave him the power that he craved. A craving that finally lead to his death.’
Jasmine paused and there was silence. Were the Belles thinking about what she had said? Did they recognise the single-minded selfish need in themselves that she described and did they see it in Vokins?
‘Despite your queries, you accepted me,’ Jasmine went on, ‘and I was, I am, grateful for that. You helped me to fit in and to get through the idiosyncratic, meaningless rituals that make up your weekend, well, yesterday’s events anyway. You talked to me, answered my questions and only one or two of you questioned my interference in your private thoughts, particularly your reactions to Vokins’ death. Only Freddie, Flamboyancé, saw through my deception, and she kept her word to keep it to herself. At least until now.’ She glanced at Flamboyancé and saw her grinning proudly at the result of her outburst.
‘What did I learn?’ Jasmine asked.
What indeed? She was still groping, stringing her tale out, hoping for enlightenment. Slowly she had circled the big, oval table looking at each character, watching for that twitch that might indicate guilt. Some stared directly at her, following her as she moved. Others avoided her eyes, looking down or at their neighbour or across the room. No dependable clues there.
‘There are of course a number of requirements for a person to be a suspect – opportunity and motive are the most important. It was soon apparent that all of you, all the Belles, had opportunity. Either you had already checked in by the time of Vokins’ death or you could have been in the locality and delayed your arrival to provide an alibi.’ Jasmine paused while on the opposite side of the table facing Petula. ‘You Petula, were the best example of that. You checked in with Sally at five p.m. when Vokins was already dead but as we discovered yesterday you had already visited the Pang Wing, via the back door, which should have been locked, to deliver that cake you were so proud of. You were however, observed in the car park so perhaps it was not so clever on your part.’
Petula rose from her seat, ‘I had nothing to do with Valerie’s death.’
Jasmine shrugged, ‘We shall see, but it just shows that like the others you had opportunity.’ Petula sank back down, face red with anger.
Tammy turned to face Jasmine looking pained. ‘I arrived after Valerie died. I was held up on the way. I couldn’t have done it.’
‘Is there proof of your delay?’ Jasmine asked.
Tammy opened her mouth to reply then shut it again and looked worried.
‘I repeat. You all could have been on the premises at the time of the killing,’ Jasmine said, ‘and of course you were all accommodated in the Pang Wing, just a few metres from Vokins’ suite. Yes, you all had opportunity.’
There were several loud and not so loud cries of “no” and much shaking of heads.
‘The next requirement is motive,’ Jasmine continued.
25
Jasmine continued on her orbit of the main table, slowly, placing one high-heeled shoe carefully in front of the other.
‘Why would any member of the Wedding Belles want to kill the organiser of their event, someone they have each known for a considerable number of years?’
She stopped behind Tammy and rested her hands on the back of the chair.
‘Well, let’s consider Tammy here.’
Tammy twisted around to face her. ‘Hey, man, why me. I didn’t kill Vokins.’
‘I’m not accusing you, Tammy. Not yet. We’ve seen that you had opportunity like everyone else, if your story of being delayed is untrue. Now we’re just exploring motive. You didn’t like Vokins very much did you?’
‘No, well, not a lot.’
‘I’m not surprised from what I’ve heard. Vokins didn’t want you in his club because of your colour. He was a bigoted racist and he recorded his feelings about a non-white person dressing in white bridal gowns. He couldn’t stop you being a member, anti-discrimination laws ensure that, and he needed as many members as possible to make these events viable but I’m sure he made his feelings known to you.’
Tammy nodded. ‘I received vile letters full of racist crap. I knew they were from him.’
‘Yet you carried on attending the wedding events.’
‘I’ve experienced racism all my life, everyone who is a different colour has. You have to stand up to the bigots. I loved dressing up and the rest of the group welcomed me. They made up for Vokins’ hate.’ Tammy was defiant.
‘But you hated Vokins. Getting rid of him from the Belles would make things more comfortable for you.’
Tammy half rose from his chair.
‘Yes, of course it would, but . . .’
‘You didn’t kill him. That’s what you were going to say isn’t it Tammy. There was the matter of the key card. We’ll come back to that. Let’s stick with motive for now and move on.’
Tammy sank back onto her seat with a confused look. She shook her head and muttered ‘I didn’t do it. Really, I didn’t.’
‘Vokins was a racist,’ Jasmine said stepping away from the high table towards the table she had left, ‘but he didn’t restrict his hatred to ethnic groups. He was a homophobe too, wasn’t he Flamboyancé.’ She stopped by the side of the pvc-clad drag queen.
Freddie laughed, ‘I’ll say, darling. One little kiss between me and Robbie was all that it took to make him turn puce.’
‘Having a gay man in the Belles, really caused Vokins pain,’ Jasmine said to the party, ‘especially when he brought his partner to all the events, but at least that meant two contributions to the funds. So he put it up with it but I believe he found ways to relieve his pent-up hatred. Is that right Freddie?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Freddie stood and faced the majority of guests. ‘He sent me and Robbie emails and letters detailing the punishments that would be meted out to us and other “shirt-lifters”. Vile diseases, hellish tortures and so on. It was quite poetic, although not a patch on Danté.’
‘You didn’t pass any of this on to the Police or make a complaint,’ Jasmine said.
Freddie laughed again. ‘No. It was laughable that was why. It was more fun to wind him up by dressing in ways he wouldn’t approve of and letting him know that Robbie and I were enjoying fucking each other right under his great fat nose.’
‘The game hadn’t begun to pall?’ Jasmine said. Flamboyancé stared at her, incredulous, ‘You’d had enough of Vokins’ hate and decided to stop it once and for all.’
‘No! Why should I give up this?’ Freddie spread her arms to take in the whole gathering, ‘the crazy ceremonies, the extravagant clothes, the chance to show off as much as I liked.’
‘Nevertheless. You had motive to dispose of Vokins.’
Freddie glared at her. ‘Motive! Of course I had, just like Tammy but that doesn’t mean that I did anything about it.’
Jasmine turned her back on Freddie and walked back to the main group.
‘Racist, homophobe. We can add transphobe to Vokins’ qualities.’ Jasmine looked across the table at Melody who, realising the focus was on her, recoiled with a gasp. ‘Strange, isn’t it, that a man who loves dressing up in virginal white wedding gowns should hate someone who feels that their body is wrong and must be altered to match their gender identity.’
Melody bit her lip and gave an imperceptible nod. Jasmine looked away and glanced around the room. ‘Actually, I don’t think it is uncommon. I believe that there are quite a few cross-dressers who fear and dislike transsexuals – those who have actually stepped from one gender to another. Perhaps it is because they do not trust their own feelings or are envious of those that have made the move. I don’t know what it was in Vokins’ case but I believe that his attitude to you, Melody, changed when you began to transition.’ Melody nodded again, slowly but more definitely. ‘I wonder what his reactions were when he saw you dressed as a normal woman and not as a fantasy bride?’
Melody cleared her throat and replied, ‘He was horrible. Said I was betraying womanhood, that I was unladylike.’
‘Why was that?’
Melody spoke through sobs ‘I was wearing jeans and a loose top and my hair hadn’t been done.’ Geraldine put his arm around her and comforted her.
‘Vokins placed women on a pedestal,’ Jasmine explained, ‘He didn’t have relationships with real women but thought that they should dress and behave like the goddesses he considered them to be. I imagine he had images of 50s Hollywood in his mind, Audrey Hepburn, Grace Kelly, and royalty like the princesses Margaret and Elizabeth.’ Jasmine paused for everyone to visualise the characters. ‘So he was rude to you because of your transition and your appearance. Then you and Gerald became a couple and that would have intensified his hatred.’
Melody cried out, ‘Yes, he said I couldn’t possibly satisfy a man because I wasn’t a real woman.’
‘And he opposed having your wedding as part of this weekend.’
Gerald spoke up, ‘Until he realised that we would be paying for half of the costs of the weekend.’
Jasmine questioned him. ‘But what would this occasion have been like with him present? Had he intended to spoil it for you and your guests?’
Geraldine shook her head, ‘I don’t know. He continued to grumble and abuse Melody.’
‘Perhaps you felt it would be better if he was out of the way for good.’ Jasmine said. ‘Both of you, Melody and Geraldine, had a motive for killing Vokins.’
Melody shook her head violently and Geraldine gripped her shoulders. ‘No, no, it wasn’t me,’ she cried.
‘How dare you, suggest such a thing,’ Geraldine roared in a most un-ladylike voice.
‘I haven’t suggested anything,’ Jasmine replied, ‘I have just pointed out that Melody, like Tammy and Freddie had a motive for seeing Vokins got rid of. And what about you Geraldine? Vokins wanted to disrupt your wedding to the woman you loved, but how had he reacted to your relationship?’
Geraldine spluttered. ‘What do you think?’
‘Well, we’ve heard what he thought about gays and that he didn’t consider Melody to be real woman. I can’t believe that he was comfortable in the knowledge that you and Melody were, um, consorting.’
Geraldine snorted. ‘Comfortable! I’ll say not. For years we had got on, not close, I knew about his phobias as you call them. But I was a model Belle as far as he was concerned. A heterosexual cross-dresser who shared his loved of wedding gowns and ideals of femininity. But we change, or at least, I changed. My marriage ended, and I fell for Melody. Now I was someone he w
as suspicious of. I was, what did you say – consorting? A good euphemism for what we were getting up to – and showing that we loved each other. I became another subject for Vernon’s vile vituperation. I admit I came to hate him.’
‘And yet you and Melody, continued with your membership of the Wedding Belles?’
‘And why not?’ Geraldine cried, ‘It was how we had met, the rest of the group were like family to us. We knew each other’s desires and wishes. Why should I let one bitter, twisted bitch ruin it?’
‘Especially if you could remove him from the scene,’ Jasmine added.
‘No.’ Gerald said, ‘You can accuse all you like and say I had motive, but I didn’t kill Vernon.’
Jasmine let the reverberations of Geraldine’s denial die away.
Petula rose to her feet, ‘What are you up to, Sindy or whatever you said your name is? Who do you think did kill Valerie?’
Jasmine still had no idea. All she could think of was to continue picking off the Belles one by one in the hope that one would give herself away.
‘It’s Jasmine,’ she said, ‘but I don’t expect you to remember that, Petula. To answer your question, I am examining the circumstantial evidence, discovering who had motive to kill Vokins. As we have seen so far, Vokins went out of his way to provoke members of the Wedding Belles. What about you?’
‘Me!’ Petula straightened herself up, thrusting out her artificial breasts.
‘I gather you have known Vernon Vokins the longest of the members.’
‘That is correct.’
‘During which time you have patiently acted as his deputy, performing the tasks allocated to you, responding to his every whim, running every little errand.’
Petula seemed to shrink, like a balloon releasing gas. She sank into her chair.
‘I don’t suppose Vokins thanked you, or showed appreciation. That doesn’t seem to be in his nature. Indeed, I expect he criticised every little error you made, dismissed every suggestion, ignored every special effort that you made to make the events run smoothly and to everyone’s satisfaction. Sally suggested as much to me not long ago.’