‘I dunno, the bloody juniors are supposed to keep this place tidy but they’re always brain dead. We had to let one go last week ’cos she was nicking stuff.’
‘How do you get on with Tina?’
Kiara washed the mugs and began to dry them on a dirty tea towel.
‘She’s my boss – I have to get on with her.’
Brian tapped Langton’s elbow. ‘You mind if I go out and get some fresh air? I’m feeling ill.’
Langton nodded and then smiled at Kiara, explaining, ‘It’s the stuff you use on the nail extensions.’
‘Tell me about it. Sometimes I feel as high as a kite and it takes so long, especially if you’ve got a client who wants the old ones removed. Mind you, if you think nail extensions take time, try hair extensions – up to four hours a session.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. You got to glue the hair onto the client’s bit by bit, then do the braiding. You want a fresh cup of coffee?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ He passed his mug to her. ‘How long have you worked for Tina?’
‘Two years, but I really want to work in a West End salon. This is in the sticks and we get so many pensioners on our cheap days. Not that I have anything against them, but that’s why we keep some of those old dryers; we roller the old ladies up and stick them under.’
Kiara passed Langton a cup of coffee and then sat opposite him. She had the longest, shapeliest legs he’d seen in a long time, revealed by her wearing a tight mini-skirt and the salon robe which just covered her thighs. She was also wearing very long ginger hair extensions with small beads at the end.
‘I like your hair.’
‘Thanks. I do it myself.’ She tossed her head, making the beads clink against each other. Then: ‘Odd thing, isn’t it?’
‘I’m sorry?’ He waited for her to explain.
‘Well, this Alan business. We all have a natter about it. She was upset when it started – you know, when he first disappeared.’
‘I suppose she would be, as they were going to get married.’
Kiara raised her eyes to the ceiling.
‘Well, let’s say she hoped. I don’t mean she was desperate, but she’d been dumped a couple of times before, or that’s what I was told. She kept him very much under wraps, worried in case he might fancy one of us.’
She giggled and then leaned towards him confidingly. ‘She’s older than she lets on – she’s always having Botox. I dunno if she keeps on doing it. There’s a bloke what comes in who’s one of her clients so she gets it on the cheap.’
‘What is a seaweed wrap, by the way?’
‘Oh, that’s one of her treatments. None of us girls are qualified beauticians. She always does all the treatments herself and has a regular stream of clients.’
‘What is it, though? I mean, would she do it in her own flat?’
‘Oh no, it’s ever so messy. They’ve got to strip off, then she smothers their body in the stuff; it smells like seaweed washed up on a beach, it’s horrible, and then I think it’s mixed with some kind of mud. Anyway, she has to lather it all over their body and then she wraps these bandages around them – quite tightly, I think – and then they sleep with a cooling mask on. When it dries it draws out the excess fluid and they can lose a few pounds off their entire body weight, especially the thighs. Then she unpeels the bandages, they shower and finally they get a body massage. That all costs about fifty quid.’
‘You think she gives herself a wrap ever?’
‘I dunno. She’s got a great figure, I’ll give her that – works out a lot so she don’t look her age, and you’ve got to be strong ’cos most of the clients who want it are overweight. One woman is at least seventeen stone and Tina’s gotta lift them up and turn them over. I think it’d be difficult to do it on yourself.’
‘Maybe she gave Alan one?’
Kiara shrugged. ‘He was good-looking. I think she gave him a few hair streaks ’cos he was ever so blonde. I know he used to use the sunbed at night. She does too, or she did, but with all the bad publicity about tanning beds we don’t really use the one we’ve got any more.’ She tossed her head again and laughed. ‘I don’t need one though.’ She rubbed her brown-skinned arm.
Langton smiled. She was flirting with him.
‘So he maybe came into the salon when you had all left?’
‘I presume so. I never saw him in here and we’re out like rats off a ship come six o’clock. She’d have us staying late and without extra pay, and did you get told about how she was always dipping into the juniors’ tip box?’
‘No, I didn’t know.’
‘Yeah. She’s always moaning about having no change and taking a few pound coins. None of us like it. I mean, they get paid a pittance anyway.’
‘She uses the coins for phone calls?’
‘Yeah. Why she needs to be nippin’ out when we got a phone here and she’s got a mobile beats me, but then I suppose it’s hard to have a private conversation at that pint-size desk of Felicity’s, and she’s always all ears.’
‘Who do you think she was calling?’
‘No idea. Alan maybe, but she’d not tell any of us. Very much above us all, she thinks she is. That’s why some of us reckon he never disappeared.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘We think he just did a runner to get away from her. I know I would. She’s got a terrible temper and—’
Donna appeared. ‘Kiara, you’ve got a client waiting.’
Paul and Anna were going through lists of the best way to start their enquiries in Cornwall when his mobile rang. It was Brian. Anna, only able to hear one side of the conversation, was impatient to know what was going on.
‘They’re at Tina’s salon. He’s had to walk outside as the—’
‘Give me the phone.’ She held out her hand. ‘Brian, what exactly are you doing?’ She listened and her face tightened with anger. ‘He’s in the salon? Is he talking to Tina?’
Brian told her about the visit to Tina’s flat. Furious, she gave him instructions to call back as soon as Langton had left the salon.
She passed the phone back to Paul, saying, ‘I don’t know what he thinks he’s doing. Apparently he’s been at the salon for over half an hour.’
‘Maybe he’s having a haircut.’
‘Very funny. I don’t like this nosing around – it makes me nervous.’
Paul’s phone rang again. This time it was Helen saying they had no records of any other vehicles registered to Alan Rawlins or to any of his friends apart from the vehicles they personally owned. Helen had also been checking with flights from Gatwick and Stansted to Newquay and again had no result. He repeated all of this to Anna.
She folded her newspaper. The train journey felt like it was taking forever.
‘It’ll be almost dark when we get there,’ she grumbled.
‘Not long to go, couple more hours. You want me to see if the trolley is anywhere near our carriage?’
‘Yes. I’ll have another coffee.’
She stared out of the window, seething with anger. It felt as if Langton was checking her out. As she closed her eyes, she hoped there was nothing she had missed that he would uncover. It was as if he was sitting on her shoulder. Paranoia set in. Had Langton agreed to let her travel because it freed him up to oversee her investigation? She took out her mobile, deciding that she would call him herself, but then stopped. Instead, she rang Helen in the incident room and asked her to make sure that anything that came in from Langton went directly to her.
Helen agreed, and added that he had asked them to get the soft top ordered by Alan Rawlins brought into the station.
‘Have you got it?’ Anna knew she should also have checked it herself.
‘Yes, it arrived ten minutes ago and it is exactly as described – a new soft top for a Mercedes 280SL.’
‘Thanks, Helen.’ She cut off the call. At least that was a dead lead, thank goodness.
Paul returned to his seat with the news that the trolley would be passing in a few minutes. The train would
