All The Pretty Girls Ch. 01

"Shit... no one has called me Miss Beaumont since the eighth grade," the girl looked at him over the rim of her coffee cup.

Even with her mussed flaming-red hair and messy makeup there was something beguiling about her. She wasn't pretty in the true sense of the word, she was big-boned, her nose was a little too big for her face and crooked, her blue eyes a little wide and her pale skin was sprinkled with freckles but she seemed self-assured. With her resonant voice she reminded him a little of the actress Natasha Lyonne.

"Wendy this is serious. I need to ask you a few questions about April," Steve knew that using David Summers's dead name would only put Wendy offside, even if it was the deceased's legal name.

"Where is she?" Wendy suddenly became serious.

"Do you know where she went yesterday and why?" Steve countered with a question of his own.

"She had a gig at Ride em' Cowgirl. That's a bar and nightclub. It's a gay bar... well not really I suppose... it's a bar where they have drag shows and adult entertainment. You understand?" Steve did not let on that he knew all too well.

"She goes by the name April Summers and uses the drag-name April Showers. April's a drag queen. Well... it's complicated. She started off as a gay man doing drag and then she realised that she was more comfortable presenting as female than male. She's only just started to transition but she identifies as a transgender woman," Wendy explained.

"And she was due to perform at this bar yesterday evening?" Steve had Wendy confirm.

"Do you know what she doing for the rest of the day?" Steve asked.

He immediately saw a shadow pass over Wendy's face and she took on a defensive posture, pulling her knees up to her chin. She tossed the cigarette butt out the window and glared at Steve.

"Where is she and what has she done? I'm not answering any more questions until you tell me," she snapped.

Steve gestured to the other end of the sofa and Wendy nodded and Steve perched himself on the edge and tapped his tablet.

"Is this April?" Steve showed her his tablet.

He'd cropped the picture so that April's neck wasn't showing. She looked almost peaceful but it was obvious that she was dead.

Wendy emitted a shuddering gasp and began to shake and cry. Instinctively Steve put his arm around her and comforted her. She allowed him to do so for minute or two and then she pushed him away.

"What happened?" her voice was deadpan; emotionless.

"We think she was murdered. We will have to wait for the autopsy and forensics," Steve remained sitting close to Wendy.

Wendy nodded as if she understood. As if somehow it was inevitable.

"That's why it's so important that I find out about her movements yesterday," Steve extrapolated.

"She needed money. She needed money more than most people," Wendy began.

Steve didn't interrupt. He'd let Wendy tell it however she wanted to.

"Do you know how much it costs to be a drag queen? Do you know how much it costs to transition?" they were rhetorical questions so Steve didn't answer.

"April was paying for the drugs and hormones that she needed to transition and also saving for some surgery. She dropped out of college where she was studying performing arts and was taking any part-time work she could get. She wanted to be a professional drag queen"

"There's the Catch-22... the dichotomy. She needed money to improve her drag but the only way she could make money was through drag. Ten years ago she would be spending half as much on clothing and costumes as drag queens do today. The audiences want polished, professional and unique performances. Drag has gone mainstream which is good, but it comes at a cost."

Steve knew all about this. Felicity had educated him and she did her best to scout for young queens with talent and potential to give them a start.

"April wasn't making much and what she was making she was putting back into her drag and buying bootleg drugs to help her transition," Wendy explained.

"Come and look," Wendy got up off the sofa and led Steve to one of the bedroom doors.

The bedroom was crammed with racks of clothing: costumes, leotards, dresses, skirts, blouses, all glittering with sequins and rhinestones. About twenty pairs of ridiculously high heeled shoes and boots were lined up along one wall, a row of wig-stands on a shelf above them held multitude of wigs of all styles and colours. More clothing was overflowing out of the wardrobe. Makeup and brushes were scattered across a scarred old nightstand that had a lighted mirror mounted above it. A cosmetics case the size of a builder's tool chest sat on the floor beside it.

It reminded Steve of Felicity's drag room at home where she kept all of her drag accoutrements. The difference being that Felicity's clothes, shoes and wigs probably cost triple the amount of anything here and Felicity's clothes were kept in custom made walk in wardrobes and all of her accessories were kept in purpose built drawers and cupboards. She eschewed disarray at home.

"What she couldn't buy she made," Wendy pointed to a battered Singer sewing machine and a dress-makers mannequin in the corner of the room.

There was barely enough room for a bed, which was single, unmade, pushed against the wall.

Wendy led Steve back to the kitchen where she refilled their coffee cups. She was doing a good job of keeping it together.

Steve bided his time and sipped his coffee, letting Wendy get to the point of her story and hopefully explain to him where April had been yesterday.

"April is... was... still is... legally a man named David Summers. She was doing everything in her power to fix that. She was awaiting a date to get a court order issued certifying her change of gender so she could get her identification documents changed to her new name and gender. It's complicated and costly," Wendy continued her tale.

"Transgender women of little means are vulnerable. Even with today's equality laws there are many businesses that won't hire them and the jobs available are usually low paying. April was waiting for her big breakthrough in drag. She wouldn't have missed her gig at Ride 'em Cowgirl for anything; she was hoping it would be her big break," Wendy lit another cigarette and moved to the sofa next to the window and Steve followed, sitting beside her.

"April needed money for drag, to pay for her transition, to pay her living expenses and what she was earning performing at the smaller clubs in the evening, part-time waitressing and selling makeup during the day wasn't enough."

"You know where I'm going with this don't you," Wendy pointed her cigarette at Steve.

Felicity had told Steve that some of the girls made money on the side. There were plenty of men out there who fetishized crossdressed women and transsexuals.

"She has an OnlyFans. She sells provocative images and videos of herself online and advertises her services to those willing to pay," Wendy blushed and looked down at the carpet.

"She was working as a prostitute to supplement her income?" Steve stated the obvious.

"You saw all the stuff in her room. She pays her rent and her bills on time. Shit she even lent me money," Wendy looked up at Steve.

"What about drugs?" Steve asked.

"What about them? Other than the hormones and other medication she was taking to help her transition she only smoked a little weed. She said it was organic, that she wasn't putting any other chemicals into her body. Everyone around here smokes a little weed," Wendy shrugged her shoulders.

Steve put to rest any thoughts he had that a drug deal had gone bad. The small amount of marijuana April had on her when she was killed was obviously for recreational use and the two hundred dollars in the envelope most likely came from her john. But why hadn't he taken the money after he had killed her?

"Any family?" Steve asked.

Wendy shook her head violently.

"April was an only child and her dad threw her out as soon as she presented as gay. Her mother is dead. She never talks about her dad and I have no idea where he is and neither does April," Wendy crushed out her cigarette and it followed its predecessor out the window.

Wendy kept changing tense when she spoke about her friend; sometimes referring to her in the present tense as if she was still alive and sometime referring to her in the past tense. It was common with survivors of tragedy.

"Can I have a team come in and process April's room? See if they can find any evidence? Also I'll need access to her OnlyFans account and any email accounts she may have; are you able to help?" Steve asked.

"Sure. Come and search her room; search the whole apartment I have nothing to hide, anything to help find who did this. I have the login to her laptop and can help there. She wasn't tech savvy and I helped her with a lot of that stuff. I work as a freelance IT specialist. I have my own business," Wendy sighed.

"And finally... we need someone to identify April. She has no immediate family so..." Steve hated to have to ask this.

"Sure. When? Where? Oh my god April!" Wendy's composure broke and she collapsed into Steve's arms sobbing uncontrollably.

He held her and let her cry it out. When she had recovered to the extent that he thought she would be ok he disengaged from her and put away his tablet after writing down some notes.

"The sooner we formally identify April the better. We can work the case better with a confirmed ID of the victim... of April," Steve corrected himself.

"Let me get changed," Wendy sighed and lifted herself off the sofa like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

As soon as she was in the bathroom Steve made a call. He got onto Brendan Scott's office and confirmed that that the body of David Summers had been relocated to the morgue and he made arrangements for it to be available for identification.

When they departed the apartment building Steve noted the small pile of cigarette butts in the garden under the window where Wendy liked to smoke.

He tried looking anywhere than at Wendy Beaumont's ass swathed in her tight denim skinny-jeans. Although she was wearing jeans, t-shirt and ankle-boots, nothing provocative, Wendy exuded sexuality. She had touched up her makeup but her red hair remained a disarrayed halo framing her face despite her attempt to brush it. She was wide hipped and broad shouldered, what some would call roomy, but not fat, her legs were long and sturdy. Steve could make out the VPL of the full-cut panties she was wearing under her jeans. Steve looked away from her and cleared his head as he opened the door of his car for her.

During the drive to the morgue Steve explained the procedure to Wendy as much to reassure her as to inform her.

"Usually the ME would be content with an ID from a photograph but as you aware this is a little complicated. First off April has most likely been murdered and second, although she presents as female she is still legally male and needs to be identified as David Summers I'm afraid," Steve explained.

"I'm not going to refer to April as David; that's her dead name. She wouldn't want that," Wendy snapped.

"I can word it for you so that you don't have to use April's dead name. I just need confirmation that the person we have is David Summers is all," Steve said softly.

"I'm sorry I snapped. You've been pretty considerate for a cop. I expected a lot of prejudice and resistance because April is transgender," Wendy sighed.

Steve resisted the urge to tell Wendy that his girlfriend is a transgender woman, especially as it is likely that Felicity knew April and had hired her for a performance at her club. He just nodded.

At the morgue the viewing room had been made ready and April's body prepared for identification. The procedure was devised to cause as little grief as possible for the person identifying the body. When the identifier is shown their loved one, they can view the deceased at their own pace. They are given all the time they need to work up the courage, with no toe-tapping detective leaning over their shoulder. Afterwards, the ME's assistant will offer to direct the identifier to grief counselling or other services should they feel they need it.

April's body was swathed in pristine white sheets pulled up over her neck to hide the bruising and abrasions caused by strangulation. Her makeup had been removed, her face washed and her brunette hair brushed out. Her right arm was exposed to display the tattoo of the fleur-de-lis on her wrist. Only the parts of the body that were necessary for identification were exposed. It was all about making the experience as non-traumatic as possible.

Detectives usually didn't accompany the aggrieved into the viewing room; it wasn't like on TV where a grim-lipped copper tapped his foot impatiently waiting for the body to be identified. But Wendy asked Steve to accompany her and had clung to his arm for support when she was confronted with the body of her friend.

She asked permission and was allowed to kiss April's cheek. All of the forensic evidence had been taken from the body.

Steve took Wendy outside to the smoking area and they both had a smoke to settle their nerves.

"What now?" Wendy asked.

"I'll get someone to drive you home. I request that you leave April's room as it is so my officers can look for any clues. I'll get one of the CSI's, Alice Leasingham, to contact you so she can access April's laptop," Steve crushed out his cigarette and picked up the butt.

"Anything I can do to help," Steve noted the tears flooding Wendy's eyes.

She had borne the death of her friend remarkably well but she was obviously stunned and suffering grief.

"Is there anyone you can call or stay with?" Steve asked.

"April and I were close friends not just roomies. We shared our intimate thoughts and feelings. I loved her. Not in any carnal way but I loved her like a sister. I want you to find who did this to her and punish them. I want her life to mean something," Wendy broke down again and when Steve moved in to comfort her she pushed him away.

"I'll get an Uber. Send your girl around whenever you want to go through the laptop," Wendy called as she walked away towards the street.

Steve went back inside the morgue to confirm what time the autopsy would be conducted then he called Bob Tanner and requested Alice Leasingham's assistance. He put Wendy Beaumont's details into an email and sent them to Alice then he navigated the midtown traffic to Ride em' Cowgirl.

Felicity, Jill Graham and Mitch Freeman were sitting at a table near the front of the club going over some spreadsheets. Four drag queens dressed in matching rhinestoned leotards and full makeup were rehearsing a number on the stage. Felicity was providing direction whilst Mitch and Jill briefed her on the club's financial status. Steve was still amazed at Felicity's ability to multitask.

Steve caught Felicity's eye and she gave him a wave indicating for him to take a seat and she would be with him shortly. Steve might be her lover and her life partner but business always came first. Felicity was about to embark on a two month tour of the US and selected overseas cities with an ensemble cast of drag queens. She was leaving on Monday for LA for rehearsals and she wanted to make sure everything was in order at Ride em' Cowgirl before she left.

Steve watched the queens rehearsing and he noticed that Mitch Freeman often looked up at the stage too. The uber-feminised and overly sexualised women on the stage were quite beguiling.

Felicity left Mitch and Jill and came over to join him. She gave him a kiss which in other circumstances might have led to something much more intimate but they both had work to do. Steve got to it.

"The girl who missed her show last night, April Showers; is this her?" Steve held out his phone so that Felicity could look at the image.

"That's her. She doesn't look good," Felicity searched for her cigarettes.

Felicity cared for her fellow queens and was a trans rights activist but she was hardened to violence and death. Steve had to remind himself that the woman he loved had strangled one man to death and shot two others. The men were sexual predators who had raped her in college and had continued to prey on countless other women. Although she had never admitted it, Steve knew that she had committed murder and Felicity knew that Steve knew.

"She was murdered at the Abacha Motel yesterday most likely lured there by a john. What time was she supposed to be here for her show?" Steve asked.

"She should have been here by seven thirty to get into her drag and prepare for her performance. I had only seen her perform a couple of times before but she had potential so I gave her the gig. She was hired to perform a couple of numbers lip-syncing solo and do the meet-and-greets before and after," Felicity put a cigarette to her lips.

"You don't seem surprised that she was meeting a john?" Steve said.

Felicity paused with the lighter inches from her face and stared at Steve pointedly.

"You know that some of the girls supplement their income that way, especially when they are first starting out. I don't ask those sorts of questions so long as their reputation doesn't detract from my ability to employ them. I don't think that knowing some of the girls give hundred dollar blow jobs on the side puts off the audience; we're not dealing with choir-girls here Steve," Felicity lit her cigarette and blew smoke at the ceiling.

"That said, you find the fucker who did this and make him pay. Anything else I can do to help?" she asked.

"Can you forward me her resume and any references she gave you? It's possible that the guy who killed her wasn't a john and may have been someone else she knew," Steve closed his tablet and gathered his phone and keys ready to leave.

Felicity put out her hand and held his.

"Are you going to be late tonight?" her tone had changed.

She sounded demure and coquettish. She used a finger to stroke his palm.

"You know when I catch a murder case I have to give it my full attention and I don't have Silvia. I don't know when I'll be home honey," Steve put his other hand over hers.

"I need your full attention tonight honey. I'm going to be on road for quite a while. Do your best," she leaned in and kissed him using her tongue.

The feel of her lips on his, her tongue exploring his mouth, the smell of her, the soft caress of her hair on his face; Steve was instantly tumescent.

The chorus of showgirls on the stage began to whoop and applaud and Felicity broke the kiss.

"See you tonight," Felicity squeezed his hard cock under the table and abruptly got up to leave.

Steve watched her re-join Mitch and Alice at the table as she shouted instructions to the queens on stage while he waited for his erection to subside.

Steve hated autopsies but he steeled himself and joined Brendan Scott in the morgue. Brendan would normally have delegated the autopsy to one of his two underlings but because the victim was a Special Task Force case he had decided to conduct it himself.

April Summers looked pathetic lying on the stainless steel table under the harsh mortuary lights. She was naked, her clothes had been bagged and sent to CSI for forensic examination and any trace evidence on her body had also been collected and put aside for processing.

She was skinny, pale and looked younger than her twenty-two years. The effects of the hormones and blockers she had been taking were starting to show results. She had budding breasts and her hips and buttocks were full. She looked like a pubescent girl except for the penis lying across her thigh and the scrotum between her legs.

Steve wondered if this in particular had drawn the killer to her; her pubescence not the fact that she was a trans woman which the killer would have certainly knew when he solicited her.