‘Yes, well, it takes a lot of work. I don’t know what those gossiping little bitches have told you, but they don’t know my age.’
‘So Alan was a lot younger.’
‘Yes . . . Shit, all I need now is for one of them to walk in and see me like this.’ She sniffed and then pulled at her eyelashes which were coming away in a section. ‘I use single lashes and they’re all coming unstuck. I have to go upstairs.’
‘I’d like to see where you do your treatments.’
Tina hesitated and then walked back round the screen. As she hadn’t refused him, he followed her.
There was a narrow staircase at the rear of the salon by the back door and the washing machines. As Langton moved up the steps behind her he could see how shapely her legs were, with good muscle tone and tanned a golden brown.
‘You’ve got a nice colour on your legs,’ he observed as she moved aside a plastic strip curtain.
‘Fake tan, I spray it on.’
He was surprised at the size of the room, as it was as big as most of the salon below. The ceiling was slanted and there were two massage tables and a covered self-tanning cubicle. A shower room was built into one side, with a toilet and washbasin. The floor was of stripped-pine boards. A row of lockers were lined up against the far wall. There was an exercise bike and an odd contraption in cream leather, which had a folding back and two long sections for legs.
‘What’s this?’
‘It’s for fatties who don’t want to exercise. You sit back and the bit with your legs moves up and down and tightens the stomach muscles.’
Tina went into the bathroom, leaving the cubicle door open. Langton watched as she looked at herself in the mirror and began to reapply her make-up. Lined up on two shelves were a vast number of massage oils and big tins of the seaweed emulsion. Neatly placed beside them were stacks of rolled elastic bandages and spatulas in a jar.
Langton took in the content of the shelves.
‘So this is what a wrap treatment is all about, is it?’
Tina leaned out. ‘Yes. The stuff is mixed with water and I apply it over the body. The far table is the one I use as it creates a hell of a mess.’
‘I noticed you had some in your flat.’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you give yourself treatments?’
‘Christ, no. Alan used to use it sometimes on his thighs. He was very vain and he knew how to mix it and wrap the bandages around. Got to be careful they’re not too tight.’
Tina walked out, brushing her hair as Langton turned, smiling.
‘You’ve got a big space up here as well as the salon below,’ he remarked.
‘Yeah. This just used to be a loft and I did the conversion. Now the bastard landlord ups the rent, but I need the space for my treatments. I do all the massages up here and the leg waxing and bikini waxing.’ Tina sighed. ‘You know, I’ve worked hard all my life. Nobody ever gave me anything. My parents died when I was just a teenager so I’ve been on my own, so to speak.’
‘Never married?’
She shrugged. ‘Long time ago. It lasted a year and then he took off with my best friend, leaving me with debts up to my eyeballs. Bloody men!’
Langton glanced at his watch. ‘You’ve been really nice, and thank you for giving me your time.’
‘You want a massage?’
He laughed, shaking his head.
‘I was joking,’ Tina grinned. ‘Can you see yourself out?’
‘Yes, thanks a lot.’
‘That’s it, is it? You said you had a few things you wanted to iron out.’
‘Not necessary now. I just wanted to meet you.’
‘Now you have, what do you think? You’re a hell of a lot nicer to talk to than that woman, but you know women have always had it in for me – jealous bitches, most of them. I have to put up with a lot of crap from the girls I employ. I used to have blokes, but they’re even bitchier, little queens. And now? Christ, I was bloody living with one and I didn’t even know!’
She watched him leave, moving the slatted curtain aside. Then she turned back to fix her hair. Staring at her reflection in the small cubicle mirror she felt like smashing the brush against it, cracking it, shattering it, but her sense of self-control got the better of her and she picked up her lip gloss to outline her lips, mouthing, ‘Sons of bitches. Bastards.’
Brian was fast asleep in the patrol car, his mouth open. He jolted awake when Langton opened the passenger door.
‘You all done?’
Langton slammed the door shut. ‘Yeah, all done. Can you take me back to Scotland Yard?’
Brian put the car in gear and drove out of the car park.
‘She’s a piece of work,’ Langton said quietly.
‘You think she’s been telling the truth?’
Langton stared out through the window. ‘Hard to tell. I wouldn’t like to tangle with her. How old do you think she is?’
‘I dunno, I’m not good at guessing women’s ages, but maybe thirty?’
‘Forty-two. I think having to tell me her age made her more tearful than discussing Alan Rawlins’s disappearance.’
‘Bloody hell, she doesn’t look it.’
‘No, she doesn’t, and she didn’t like admitting it, but that doesn’t make her guilty of beating her boyfriend to death.’
‘I know DCI Travis has changed her opinion but do you think Rawlins is still alive?’
Langton sighed and shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Either way, we are going to have to come up with something. A fucking body would be a start.’
Chapter Fifteen
Helen looked over as Brian returned to the incident room, holding up her hand and tapping her watch.
‘Don’t have a go at me,’ he grumbled. ‘I’ve been with bloody Langton all afternoon. Any developments?’
‘No, but I don’t think the Gov liked you and Langton treading on her heels. She wants you to call her and tell her what went down.’
‘Bugger all, that’s what. Have they arrived in Cornwall yet?’
‘Any time now. It’s a long schlepp by train and . . .’ Helen checked her watch again. ‘Too late now, but the manager of the Asda store called re the CCTV.’
‘Shit – I forgot all about that.’
Helen said that Anna had again asked if there was any CCTV footage from the time that Tina bought the containers of bleach. Brian slumped at his desk.
‘What’s so important?’ he said wearily. ‘We have the bloody receipt, so we know the date and time the bleach was bought.’
‘Well, the manager said the interior CCTV
‘You telling me they have cameras on every checkout till?’
‘I don’t know. You’ll find out when you see the manager.’
