Death under the Dryer

Seventeen

As the Renault nosed its way back along Fethering High Street, Jude suddenly shouted, “Park!”

“What?” demanded Carole, obeying nonetheless. She brought the car to a halt behind a muddy Land Rover. The back was sticking out and she began to manoeuvre so that the wheels should be exactly parallel to the kerb.

“Don’t bother with that.”

“But I must. I hate messy parking. What is this, Jude?”

“When we went past the salon, I noticed Connie was in there on her own.”

“So?”

“Well, we can go in and ask her about Theo.”

“Just ask her? Just like that?”

“Yes, of course. Why not?”

“It’s a bit obvious, isn’t it?”

Jude sighed with exasperation. “And what’s wrong with the obvious? We ask Connie about Theo. There’s probably nothing sinister in what he’s doing. There’ll be a perfectly simple explanation. We ask her and she tells us.”

“But we can’t just walk in. She’ll think it’s odd.”

“No, she won’t. She owns a hairdressing salon. People walk in and out all the time.”

“But not without an appointment.”

“Carole, are you coming?”

“I should really be getting back to Gulliver…”

“Fine. You do that.” There were times, thought Jude as she opened the car door, when being friends with Carole could be quite difficult. “Do you mind taking my vegetables? I’ll drop by and pick them up later.” She was tempted to say she’d drop by ‘without an appointment’, but restrained herself. Carole agreed she’d take the vegetables.

Jude looked back just before she reached the salon. Carole had straightened up the Renault first, made sure it was exactly parallel to the kerb, before driving it out of the space on the way back to High Tor. Her neighbour shook her head in bewilderment.

As Jude entered Connie’s Clip Joint, Barbra Streisand was trembling from the CD, doing one of those misleadingly quiet bits which always presages a full-volume screech. Connie herself was sitting with a cappuccino and a Hello! magazine, looking as though she hadn’t a care in the world.

“Hi. Good to see you. Like a coffee?”

“Please.” So much for Carole’s worries about not having an appointment. Jude wasn’t even sure that she needed a cover story, but just to be on the safe side, she produced the one she’d quickly prepared. “Actually, I wanted to ask you about Theo…”

“Yes?” Connie called from the back room by the coffee machine where she was preparing Jude’s cappuccino.

“I was talking to someone who was asking about hairdressers who might come and visit…you know, cut their hair at home. I know you told me you don’t do that. I was wondering if Theo ever ‘makes house calls’.”

“Don’t think he does. He’s never mentioned it.”

“I suppose it’d depend a bit where it was…you know, if it was near his home…”

“Maybe.” Connie came back into the salon and closed the back room door. “There’s your coffee.”

“Thanks.” Jude took a sip and wiped off the moustache of froth before asking, “Where does he live, actually?”

Connie looked surprised by her own reply. “Do you know, I don’t actually know.”

“Really? But if he’s a member of your staff…”

“No, I thought I told you.”

“Oh, that’s right. He rents the chair.”

“That’s right. And he pays me in cash, which is very good news. I’ve always believed there are some areas of one’s life that should be kept a secret from the taxman.”

“I agree,” said Jude. “So you really don’t have an address for Theo?”

“No. I always contact him on his mobile. I mean, I just had a call from one of his clients this afternoon. Wants a cut and highlights tomorrow afternoon. Two o’clock. So I’ll put it in the book and call Theo on the mobile so he knows to come in.”

“Is that the only booking he’s got tomorrow?”

“Yes. Neither of us doing particularly well at the moment.” But it didn’t seem to worry her. “I haven’t got a landline for Theo, so I’ve no idea whereabouts he lives. But then why should I? I mean, I get on with him fine, but it’s purely a business relationship. We don’t socialize together outside work.” Connie Rutherford pulled a lugubrious face. “I may be looking for a man, you know, but Theo wouldn’t be highest on my list of possibles.”

“No.”

“He’d be very good for my ego, keep telling me how wonderful I looked, but in other departments…” she giggled ruefully, “…I think I might be disappointed.”

“I think you might.” Jude took a sip of cappuccino. “So you don’t know whether he’s in a relationship?”

“I don’t know anything about his private life. Theo’s a great one for gossip, he loves earwigging on everything all the women who come into the salon talk about, he really encourages them, they open up to him…but, now I come to think of it, he never gives away anything about himself.”

“Good trick if you can do it,” said Jude, who could do it and recognized the technique. She asked a few more questions about Theo, but got similar answers. Connie had no idea about his private life. He didn’t volunteer any information, and few of his clients wanted to probe. Many Fethering women got quite a charge out of having their hair cut by a gay man, but they didn’t want too much detail. And Connie seemed equally incurious.

One thing Jude felt pretty sure of after she’d finished her questioning was that Connie had no idea about the change of persona that Theo had effected at Yeomansdyke.

“If you like,” the hairdresser concluded, “I’ll ask him in the morning.”

“Ask him what?” asked Jude.

“Whether he does visit people’s houses to cut their hair.”

“Oh, yes.” She’d completely forgotten her cover story. “Don’t worry, it’s not important. I think my friend has a lead to someone else, anyway.” She looked around the salon. “So did neither of you have any bookings this afternoon?”

“I had a two o’clock shampoo. One of the old dears who’s never washed her own hair in her life. There are still a few of them around.”

“And that was it?”

“Yes. Might get someone else wandering in later…After school finishes, quite often get girls in with their mums…which is usually quite entertaining.”

“Why?”

“The mums want them to look like innocent little cherubs. The girls want shocking pink colouring and razor cuts.”

“Ah yes, of course. Don’t you get frustrated when you’re just sitting around?”

Connie shrugged. “You get used to it. Part of the business.”

“But not a very lucrative part of the business.”

“No. You get used to that too. Business comes and goes. That’s just part of being a freelance.”

“I suppose so.” But Jude was surprised how laid-back Connie seemed about the salon’s lack of success. Fethering gossip said that the business was in a dire state, and bets were almost being taken on how long it could survive. But the proprietor seemed unbothered. Indeed, she was as relaxed as Jude had ever seen her. The habitual restlessness that accompanied her every movement was no longer in evidence. Her make-up was perfectly in place, and her hair hung neatly, its red highlights recently done, a fine advertisement for her skills. Around her glowed an aura of fulfilment.

Which made Jude think of a time when Connie had not looked quite so soignee. Gently she moved the conversation back to the morning that Kyra Bartos’s body had been discovered in the back room.

“It seems a long time ago,” said Connie.

“You haven’t got around to getting another junior yet?”

“No.” She gave the impression that she hadn’t thought about the subject for some time. “No. I must do something about it, but…” She shrugged a gesture that took in the empty salon “…no great need when business is like this. Saves me a bit of money too.” But she didn’t make it sound as though saving money was that important.

“And have you had any more contact with the police?”

“Nothing. Presumably they’re still trying to track down that boy Nathan.”

“Maybe. They didn’t give you any indication of how far they’d got with the investigation, when you spoke to them yesterday?”

Connie Rutherford looked puzzled. “Sorry?”

“When you spoke to them yesterday? About Carole having seen Martin skulking round the back of this place?”

“Ah yes, of course.” It all came back to her. “Sorry, I’d forgotten, because it was all over so quickly. I rang through to the number the detective chief inspector had given me, told him my piece, and that was it. Hardly even a thank you, let alone any useful information about how the murder case was proceeding.”

“And you don’t know whether they’ve been in touch with Martin yet?”

“Jude, Martin and I are divorced. We contact each other as little as is humanly possible.”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“So unless they suddenly arrest him for Kyra’s murder…which is very unlikely…I can’t really think it likely that I’ll hear anything about his encounter with the police.”

“No.” Jude felt duly chastened. “Thinking back to that time, though, Connie…”

“Mmm?”

“You know, the morning when Kyra didn’t open up the salon as she should have done…”

“Yes?” The hairdresser looked wary. She had recovered a degree of equanimity since the tragedy, and apparently didn’t want to have the memory brought back.

“Carole Seddon gave me a blow-by-blow account of what happened…”

“I’m not surprised,” said Connie with some edge.

“Probably the most exciting thing that had happened in her life for some time. But she at least was quite restrained while it was all happening. Unlike that woman Sheena…”

“Yes, I heard.” Not necessary to mention her recent encounter with the drama queen. But it did remind her of something Sheena had suggested. “Sorry, Connie, going off at a tangent…back to Theo…”

“Mmm?” The hairdresser sounded more enthusiastic. She hadn’t liked reviving the images of discovering Kyra’s body. Discussing her fellow stylist was much more appealing.

“I mean, presumably he is gay…?”

“Oh, come on, Jude! Is the Pope Catholic?”

“Yes. OK. Well, you never saw any sign of Theo…coming on to anyone, did you?”

“No. As I said, we don’t mix socially. What he gets up to in his spare time…well, that’s not my business, is it?”

“Of course not. I only mentioned it, because…” What the hell, time for another indiscretion. “Someone suggested that Theo might have made a play for Nathan Locke.”

This was a real surprise for Connie. “I don’t know that he even met Nathan. I never saw them together.”

“But could there have been an evening when, say…you’d left early and Theo was still here, and Nathan came round to pick up Kyra…?”

“Well, yes, there could have been. Quite possible, but I’m not aware of that ever having happened. And, even if they had met, I really can’t see Theo having ‘made a play’, as you put it, for Nathan. He’s a very professional stylist. I’ve met a lot of gay men in this business – it goes with the territory – and they’re all very camp with the clients, but I’ve never met one who came on to anyone in the salon.”

“No.” Jude was being tarred with the brush of homophobia, but it wasn’t the moment to correct Connie’s misapprehension. “Sorry, it was just something someone said.”

“Everyone in Fethering’s got something to say about Kyra’s death, and I wish they’d stop it. Nobody really knows anything…except perhaps the police.”

“And they’re keeping anything they know very firmly to themselves.”

“Yes.” Their recent conversation had spoiled the serenity of Connie’s mood. “Look, there are some things I’ve got to sort out, Jude.”

“Yes, of course, I must be on my way.”

“Just a minute.”

Jude stopped on her way to the door. “What?”

Connie was looking curiously at her hair. “You haven’t had it cut again since I did it, have you?”

“No, of course not,” came the guilty reply.

But Connie was not deceived. Looking closely at the hair, she echoed exactly the words of Kelly-Jane at Martin & Martina, “Dear, oh dear. Now do tell me where this was done.”

“No, look, I can’t. Sorry, I must be on my way.” It took a lot to fluster Jude, but this had achieved the feat. She realized she had overstepped a diplomatic boundary. Having another haircut by another stylist at another salon within a week is probably about the most offensive insult you can give a hairdresser. And Connie’s face reflected the affront she had just received.

Jude opened the door, but before she went out, turned back and said, “There was one other thing I wanted to ask you…”

“Oh?” Connie wasn’t a natural at being frosty, but the welcome had definitely gone from her voice.

“Something Carole told me. The morning Kyra’s body was discovered…”

“Yes?” The hairdresser had already had quite enough of that subject.

“Well, I’m sure she must have got it wrong, because you always take such care of your appearance, but Carole said that morning you weren’t wearing any make-up, and you hadn’t done your hair.”

“No, I hadn’t. I sometimes do all that after I’ve arrived here. Go through to – ” She corrected herself. “Do it in the mirror here.”

The image did not match the picture of the woman that had formed in Jude’s mind. Connie had her standards as the owner of the salon; she wouldn’t do her make-up in the mirror when she had a client present. She didn’t say anything, but Connie seemed to feel she needed further self-justification. “I just got delayed that morning, that’s all.”

“Do you remember what delayed you?”

“The fact that my alarm clock didn’t ring. With the result that I overslept.” Jude’s welcome was in danger of being outstayed. “Now, I really do have things to do…”

“Of course. Thanks for the coffee. See you.” As she walked back to Woodside Cottage, Jude felt certain that, whatever had delayed the owner from reaching Connie’s Clip Joint on the morning after Kyra Bartos’s murder, it wasn’t just that she’d overslept.