“I see. So there was nothing to stop you making your illegal entry to Connie’s Clip Joint?”
“No.” He sighed. “In retrospect, it would have been better if Martina had been at home. Then I wouldn’t have gone on such an insane wild goose chase. I didn’t find anything in the salon, needless to say. But I was in a very manic state, and I thought there was a chance, and I was desperate to do anything that would stop the police wanting to question me any further.”
“Whereas in fact what you did has had exactly the opposite effect. The police now do want to question you about what you were doing at the salon yesterday morning.”
“Yes. I thought at that time of the day I’d be safe. I didn’t reckon on you and your dog.”
“Lucky I wasn’t taking my dog for a walk when the person who killed Kyra Bartos came out.”
It had been a risk to make the connection so openly, but Martin Rutherford was smart enough to pick up her implication. “Look, I didn’t kill her. I don’t know whether any of the local gossip is suggesting that, but it’s absolutely untrue.”
“As I’m sure you’ll be able to prove to the police.”
“The police?” He sounded bewildered.
“When they question you about your movements.”
“Oh yes, yes, of course. Sorry. Bit slow there. No, it’ll be fine when I talk to the police.”
“You mean you have an alibi?”
“Not for when you saw me yesterday morning. But you know that. You saw me. There’s no way I can wriggle out of that and say I was somewhere else.”
Carole pressed him. “But for the night of the murder? Do you have an alibi for then?”
“Of course I do,” he replied confidently. But then he seemed to lose his nerve. “That is…”
“What?”
“Well, I…Look, I’m sorry, Carole, but I don’t have to tell you. When the police ask me, then of course I’ll tell them where I was that night.”
“Fine,” she said, and then dared to add, “If the answer’s embarrassing…”
“No, it’s not embarrassing.” He made a decision. “All right, I was at a conference that night. There’s a big annual one, the Brighton Hair and Nail Conference. I haven’t been there before, but this year I decided I should.”
“Was Martina with you?”
“No, it started on the Wednesday evening. Someone had to be around the salon, in case anything came up in any of the branches. So she stayed and I went to Brighton. Just stayed the one night.”
It was an alibi that could be checked. On the other hand, it was not a totally watertight one. Brighton was not that far from Fethering. A determined murderer could easily slip away from the conference hotel for a couple of hours to do what he had to do. Unless he could produce someone who could vouch for his attendance at the conference all night, the alibi was pretty worthless.
But Carole didn’t say any of that. Indeed, she didn’t get the chance to. Martin Rutherford had finally got on to the real purpose of their meeting. “Listen, this whole situation’s very unfortunate. I’ve been stupid and, as a result, I’m going to have what I think could be quite a nasty grilling from the police.”
If he was fishing for sympathy, Carole didn’t feel inclined to grant him any. She was surprised by how negative she felt towards Martin Rutherford. Connie was far from being a bosom pal, but Carole still had a lot of fellow feeling for her. The way Martin had behaved in their marriage – and indeed the way he continued to behave with girls like Kyra – was appalling. Carole felt empathy for Connie, the solidarity of divorcees who had been badly treated by men.
“Anyway,” Martin went on, “that will be my punishment – and it serves me right.”
“It’s possible,” said Carole waspishly, “that that won’t be all your punishment.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’d have thought, even if you used your keys to get into Connie’s Clip Joint yesterday…”
“Which I did. Still got a set to the back door.”
“Even if you did, you could be charged with breaking and entering.”
The idea didn’t seem to worry him. “No, surely that’d only happen if Connie pressed charges. And she’d never do that.”
“Don’t underestimate her.” And don’t underestimate how much you have hurt her and how vengeful she might be towards you, Carole thought.
Martin still dismissed the idea of a criminal charge. “Well, that is not currently among my many worries. But look, Carole…now this business about my going to Connie’s Clip Joint yesterday is known to the police…and they’ll probably soon know about the reasons for Kyra’s dismissal too…could you please – you and your friend Jude – not say anything? I mean, don’t spread the news to anyone else.”
“I had no intention of doing so,” said Carole sniffily.
“Good. I’m sorry, but I do have a business reputation round here. It’s not going to be improved if anyone finds out the police are questioning me again. And I don’t want to risk any further damage. So please, will you and Jude keep quiet about it?”
“Yes, of course we will.”
What does he take us for – a couple of local gossips? Carole couldn’t help thinking.
“And look…” He produced a card from his top pocket. “That’s got my mobile number on it. If you hear anything that you feel’s relevant, don’t hesitate to ring me.”
“What kind of thing were you thinking of?”
“Anything that points to who might have killed Kyra…or…”
Or anything that gets me off the hook. Mentally Carole provided the end of the sentence for him.
? Death under the Dryer ?
Sixteen
There was one thing at least that she could check right away. As soon as she got back to High Tor, Carole got out the Yellow Pages and made a list of the main conference centres and hotels in Brighton. She started to ring round, asking if they had recently hosted a Hair and Nail Conference. On the third call she got lucky. Yes, they’d had some four hundred delegates there just over two weeks ago. The dates tallied with what Martin Rutherford had said. So the conference certainly existed; whether he’d been at it, of course, was another matter.
Carole asked for the name of the organizer of the Brighton Hair and Nail Conference. The girl on Reception couldn’t tell her, but put her through to someone in the relevant department who very efficiently provided her with the name and contact numbers of the events company who had staged the conference. Another call confirmed that a Martin Rutherford had indeed been booked in as a delegate. And he had booked in for the dinner on the Wednesday night. What’s more, he had been there. By chance, the girl at the end of the line had sat next to him during the dinner. He had been very charming and amusing. No, she didn’t know where he’d gone after the meal. Now she really must be getting on with some work.
Carole was digesting this information when her phone rang. It was Stephen. He sounded tense again.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Gaby. They want to keep her in a few more days.”
“Any reason? Has there been more bleeding?”
“No. They just want…Something to do with blood pressure. They think she’ll be safer there.”
“Then I’m sure they’re right.”
“Yes…” He didn’t sound convinced.
“Listen, Stephen, it’s only about a month till she’s due. If the baby was born tomorrow, it’d be absolutely fine.”
“Mmm.”
“And the baby’s still moving around all right, is it?”
“Yes, yes. It’s not the baby they’re worried about. It seems to be Gaby.”
“Stephen, lots of women have problems with blood pressure when they’re pregnant. The hospital is just
