Questions for Miss Butler

by Nom de Plume

© 2002

  

SYDNEY: Private memorial services were conducted today for Eric Trice, the flamboyant tycoon who perished in the terrorist attack in Bali on 12 October. Mr. Trice, who at one time presided over a vast business empire including media outlets and real estate holdings, was being pursued by New South Wales authorities for securities and bank fraud at the time of his death. Mr. Trice left no immediate family, and only a handful of former business associates and employees were in attendance. His most recent companion, Amanda Butler, who had accompanied him to Bali, is said to be convalescing in Thailand.

 

Sergeant Sheppard of the New South Wales police knocked respectfully on the solid mahogany door to unit 903. A few seconds later, the door opened a fraction, and the occupant confirmed that her visitor was the man who had called from the lobby. The door swung open, and the beautiful woman invited the sergeant into her swank apartment overlooking Sydney Harbor.

Without waiting for him, she crossed the parlor to a cream leather sofa and sat down, tucking her elegant legs under her Burberry skirt. The sergeant followed hesitantly and stood for an awkward moment in front of a matching club chair. He was young and keen looking, and as he sat down he was careful not to wrinkle the crease in his blue uniform trousers. She looked at him impatiently as he fumbled with his notebook and cleared his throat.

"I appreciate your seeing me this morning, Miss Butler," the sergeant said at length. "If you don't mind, a few questions have come up during our investigation of the tragic events in Bali, and I was hoping you could help us."

She closed here eyes and grimaced. "Bali. God, how I wish I could just forget about it. Make it all go away somehow." She opened her eyes and appraised him with a steady glare.

"Tell me what you want to know."

The sergeant was not deterred. "Miss Butler, if I may, you were in Kuta during the evening of the terrorist attack, am I right?"

"Yes, sergeant, you must know that I have already given a statement to both the foreign office and representatives of God knows how many law enforcement agencies. What more could you possibly want to know?"

"According to our files, you did not return to Australia afterwards, but flew direct to Bangkok the following day."

"That's right, sergeant, I have already told that to the authorities. What concern is this of yours?"

The sergeant dropped the pretense of politeness and looked directly into her beautiful blue eyes. "Before you answer any further questions, I should tell you that I returned from Bangkok yesterday. Whilst there, I paid a visit to the Kamranhaeng Clinic. I must warn you, Miss Butler, that anything you say might be used against you in a subsequent criminal proceeding. Or perhaps, to be more precise, I should refer to you as Mr. Trice?"

The blood drained from her beautiful face, and she started to shake uncontrollably. "Oh, God, it was all for nothing," she cried out. "All for bloody nothing!"

 

"The good years were so short," she sighed as she inhaled a cigarette and reclined on the plush sofa. "The private jet, the cars, the women...." Her voice trailed off and the sergeant paused his note taking. She had offered him a glass of wine, which he declined, and she took another sip from her glass before resuming. "I had it all, until the bloody press started to question the financial underpinnings of my empire. Built it all up from scratch, in record time, only to see it all washed away in a few wretched months."

Her refined voice was unchanged, but for an instant Sergeant Sheppard could see her as she must have been, a commanding figure in spite of his slight physique, a terror to business rivals and an idol to worshipping sycophants. Looking at him now, his blonde hair pinned in a French braid, wearing a white silk blouse, tailored skirt and sheer stockings, it was still too fantastic to believe. Yet here he was, Eric Trice, duly warned of his rights, spilling it all. Here she was, the sergeant corrected himself.

"I knew that I was finished, and the trip to Bali was a final fling with Amanda Butler before the inevitable. I loved her, you know," she added defensively, a tear spoiling her perfect makeup. "She adored me, and we intended to have children, before... before this," she said finally, looking down at her manicured hands, folded in the lap of her skirt. She took another sip of wine and continued, staring off into space as she talked.

"I had taken a call from my solicitors, and Amanda went on ahead of me to Paddy's pub. I was just pitching up when the first blast knocked me clean off my feet. There was the most horrible screaming, and the heat was so intense... I dragged myself back to our hotel to wait for her. But I knew she would never return. Nobody who was in that place was coming out of it, I could tell that, and the next morning I learned that very few of them were even recognizable. As I sifted through her things in the hotel, sorting out her clothing and papers, the idea came to me."

She looked again at the sergeant and her tone became defiant. "As long as I can remember, I always had all the women I wanted, and I loved being a man. Never in a million years did I want to do this to myself. But there I was, a fugitive from my own country, facing a lengthy prison term and financial ruin. And there in my hands was the key to my escape: Amanda Butler's passport. A girl who had run away to Australia, with no friends or family, and a sizeable fortune.

"We were about the same height, had the same coloring, and people used to tease us that we looked like brother and sister. As I stood in front of a mirror and tied my long hair back into a ponytail, I began to believe that I could actually pull it off. I found one of her dresses and held it against myself, and suddenly I knew it was going to work. Eric Trice would be the one who died in the blast that night, and Amanda Butler would return to Sydney and resume her life.

"It took me hours to shave off all of my body hair, and endless trial and error before I got the knack of putting on makeup. All the while, I knew I was racing against the clock, as I had to be ready to present myself before the authorities came looking for Eric Trice. The first time I put on her bra and panties, I felt absurd, ridiculous... but I told myself again and again that life as a woman would be better than getting raped in prison. Her skirts and dresses fit me perfectly. When I finally got myself together and looked in the mirror, decked out complete with heels and stockings, I was Amanda Butler.

"A fast dash to the airport, a small bribe to get myself on the first flight out of Bali, and I found myself sitting in first class on Singapore Airlines, chatting with a man seated next to me who couldn't take his eyes off my legs. I willed myself to become a woman, just as I had willed myself to pull off fantastic business deals, instinctively doing all the little things right in order to survive. By the time I arrived in Bangkok after a quick change of planes in Singapore, I knew what I had to do, and do quickly before I had a chance to change my mind."

She paused and drained her glass of wine, then got up and walked across the thick pile carpet in her stockinged feet to the wet bar, where she found another bottle of expensive Chardonnay. As she opened it with a small corkscrew, the sergeant observed her intently. Her movements were graceful and feminine, and it was impossible to believe that she had once been Eric Trice, the scourge of the business world. When she sat back down on the sofa and crossed her elegant legs, he found himself staring at them, and he quickly looked away before she continued her confession.

"The operation was a horror. I got drunk before I went to the clinic, and paid them a small fortune to put me at the head of the queue. When I woke up, and realized what I had done to myself, I went half crazy, and I would have torn the place apart if I hadn't been in so much pain. I fell into a deep depression, with no energy, no drive... no balls," she sighed. "Female hormones were prescribed, and as my scars healed and the hormones took hold, I began to notice profound changes. I had a woman's body now, and although I yearned for my old life as a man, I forced myself to adapt to my new situation.

"Plastic surgery and breast implants completed my transformation to Amanda Butler, and by the time I left Bangkok, I was reconciled to my fate. After all, I was a beautiful, wealthy woman. I returned to Sydney to live a quiet life as I coped with the practicalities of being a female. Would I be able to love a man? Would I use my business skills to build a new fortune, and shatter the glass ceiling? Or would I just grow into an old woman, nursing Amanda's trust fund until the money ran out and I went on the dole?" Once again her voice trailed off, and she finished another glass of wine, looking utterly miserable.

Sergeant Sheppard closed his notebook and stood up. "Thank you for your cooperation. You have a few minutes before we take you into custody." He reached for his cell phone, and began to place a call to his station.

Amanda Butler, nee Eric Trice, got up from the sofa and walked over to the balcony with a commanding view of the spectacular harbor. What did fate hold for her now? The media circus surrounding her trial would be a nightmare. Would it be a men's or a women's prison they sent her to? Long, dreary years in a gray cell, followed by scorn and ridicule when she finally got out, a dried up old raisin of a woman....

For one last time, Eric Trice acted decisively to take destiny into his own hands. Without hesitation, the woman he had become opened the balcony door and flung herself over the rail. She felt free as she tumbled through the air, and her last conscious thought was to hold down her billowing skirt as she plummeted towards the ground.

 

ABC Radio News: Amanda Butler, 29, died this morning in an apparent suicide after she leaped from the ninth floor balcony of her luxury apartment in Sydney. Police speculate that Butler, who was the constant companion of Eric Trice before he was killed in Bali last year, was despondent over his death and took her own life. Also today, the High Court in Canberra struck down an attempt by AMP Insurance to avoid payment of key man insurance on Trice because his death was caused by terrorism. Trice had taken out $500 million in insurance on behalf of employee superannuation funds shortly before his business empire collapsed in a wave of scandal. The court ruled that the only grounds for denial of payment would have been suicide.

 

The lone witness at the interment of Amanda Butler stood at a respectful distance as her coffin was lowered into an unmarked grave. He lingered until the gravediggers arrived, and when they began to work with their shovels, he approached and dropped what appeared to be a small notebook onto her casket. He watched until it was covered with fresh earth, then turned and walked slowly back towards his waiting police car.

 

By the author of "The Jessica Project"

  

  

  

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