“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
