Authors: Lynda La Plante
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 then be making a lot of stops as they got closer to Newquay.
‘All the little out-of-the-way stations, but they said it’d only be another hour and a half.’
Anna closed her eyes. They would get the plane back, budget or not.
Donna was now sitting where Kiara had been. She’d helped herself to a coffee and was munching on biscuits. Langton had refused another cup and was now becoming a little impatient.
‘What’s she been telling you?’ Donna eventually asked.
‘Just describing how she does nail extensions.’
‘I bet. She’s a gossip, that one, and she and Tina have never got along, but to find someone who can do nails and hair extensions isn’t easy round here. We’ve got a lot of black customers so that’s why Tina keeps her on.’
‘You just do haircuts, do you?’
‘No, I do manicures and pedicures as well. Salon this size you gotta be jack-of-all-trades.’
‘But you don’t do the massage and beauty treatments?’
‘No, that’s Tina’s department. She can do hair, and she’s good, but she gets impatient with the client if they don’t want what she wants. I’ve seen them go out crying ’cos she lopped off more than they wanted. She’s also a good colourist, very professional. She was trained by L’Oréal and she still does competitions. We work them between us. I told that lady about how many we done, I sent in the dates – well, the ones I could remember. She wanted to know how long Tina and me are out from the salon.’
‘This would be DCI Travis, yes?’
‘Yeah, that’s right. I’d love to have a go at her hair, give her a real sharp cut. It’s a lovely colour, that red. Is it natural?’
‘I believe so. Do you get on well with Tina?’
‘Yes, I’ve worked for her for years. When I say we get along, it’s my job and she’s okay just so long as you don’t get on the wrong side of her. She can fly off the handle.’
‘Did you know Alan, her fiancé?’
‘Only to say hello, never had much of a conversation with him. I think she used to get browned off with him going away all the time, but she always said she didn’t go with him because she couldn’t swim. We all reckoned it was because he didn’t want her there.’
‘They were engaged to be married?’
‘Yes, so she said, but I dunno when they planned it. A few of us thought he might be getting cold feet.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Well, they were having a big row out in the car park one night and the next day she was like a bear with a sore behind having a go at every one of us. These past few days she’s been making secret phone calls, hurrying out of the salon.’
‘Taking the juniors’ tips?’
‘Yeah, that’s right – who told you that?’
‘I think someone mentioned it to DCI Travis.’
The girl put her hand over her mouth and grinned. ‘Could have been me. I don’t want to sling the dirt. Don’t get me wrong, but he looked younger than her and she changed the colour of her hair, was always on a diet, working out, trying to look younger than she is.’
‘Botox?’
Donna giggled again. ‘Yeah. Once it must have hit a nerve by her eye ’cos it twitched for days.’
Donna almost fell off her chair as Tina stepped round the screen.
‘Can you work with the junior, please, Donna. You are supposed to be training her, not sitting in here gossiping. Off you go!’
Donna scuttled out fast. Tina glared at Langton as he stood up to introduce himself.
‘Don’t bother – Felicity’s told me who you are. Where’s the other bloke?’
‘He’s outside, felt a bit sick with the smell of the—’
Tina brushed past him and picked up Donna and Kiara’s dirty coffee mugs.
‘Bloody girls can’t wash up after themselves.’ She dumped them into the sink, turning to rest against it. ‘What do you want? This is now bordering on harassment.’
‘Just to talk to you, Tina.’
‘I’m all talked out with the police. I have no intentions of saying anything unless my lawyer is present.’
‘That’s a pity, Tina. I just wanted to iron a few things out. I’m overseeing the enquiry.’
‘Really? Well, somebody should be.’
Langton sat back down. He was surprised at just how attractive she was, and taller than he’d expected. Her glossy reddish-brown hair fell to just below her shoulders, and her make-up was flawless.
‘If you don’t mind me saying so, you are a very good advert for your salon.’
‘Flattery won’t get you anywhere.’ She poured what remained of the coffee and leaned back holding the cup between her hands – revealing long perfect fingernails with white tips.
‘What’s happened to that woman Travis?’ she asked rudely.
‘She’s on her way to Cornwall to make enquiries.’
‘I’d like to make some myself. I’ve never had much luck with men, but with Alan I really thought it was special, different. Just goes to show, doesn’t it?’
‘What does?’
‘That he was a liar like the others. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson. The guy before Alan left owing me ten thousand quid. He was a carpenter and said he needed it to buy some equipment for a big job, and like an idiot I gave him a cheque. That was the last I saw of him.’
‘Sounds like a habit.’
‘What?’
‘Men disappearing on you.’
‘I know where he is – with his wife. He lied about that too.’
‘I’m sorry, and amazed that anyone would leave someone as attractive as you.’
She rolled her eyes and then laughed. She had a deep sexy voice and her laugh was infectious.
‘Looks aren’t everything, although Alan certainly had them.’ She sipped her coffee and pulled a face. ‘It’s cold.’ She turned and tossed the coffee down the sink then stood with her back to Langton, her hands resting on the edge of the sink.
‘It just doesn’t seem real,’ she said bleakly. ‘First he’s missing, then I’m accused of killing him, then I’m told he was homosexual and also stashing money away. What kind of fucking idiot am I?’
Langton got to his feet as Tina tossed her head back and ran her fingers through her curls.
‘I’ve got to go back to work,’ she mumbled.
‘This must be very hard for you to deal with.’ Langton moved closer.
‘You can say that again, but you know I’ve been hurt a few times and I’m getting used to picking myself up and getting on with my life.’
Unexpectedly she started to cry, wafting her hands as if annoyed at herself. She plucked a tissue from a box beside the sink.
‘Going to ruin my eye make-up,’ she laughed shakily.
‘I understand. I’ve been told you were planning on getting married.’
She sniffed as her eyes welled with tears again. She grabbed another tissue from the box.
‘Yes. I even thought that maybe he’d got cold feet because I kept pushing for him to set the date. I was going to arrange it all. I’ve no parents so it was all going to be down to me.’
‘You mind me asking you a personal question?’
She sniffed. ‘Like what?’
‘How old are you?’
She looked taken aback and then started to cry again. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘It doesn’t matter. I can always check.’
‘I’m forty-two – all right!’
Whether it was admitting to her real age or not, more tears came down and she pressed her hand to her mouth.
‘You don’t look it,’ Langton said gently.
‘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?’