His nod had something of bravado in it, the action of a cheeky schoolboy doing something he shouldn’t. “Sad, isn’t it, a man having to set up elaborate deceptions so that he can go and see his ex-wife?” He looked at his watch. “Connie’s waiting for me in the back room of the salon even as we speak.”
They were interrupted by the sound of the outer office door closing. Carole looked up in alarm, but Martin said, “Don’t worry. Girls locking up. I must go down in a sec to check everything’s all right.”
“Yes, well, I don’t think I need to detain you much longer.” Carole looked at him sternly through her rimless glasses. “You realize you are going to have to tell all this to the police?”
He sighed, then dropped his head. “Yes, you’re right. We probably are.”
“It could be material to their investigations. Now they’re talking to Nathan Locke, they’ll need all the information they can find on what actually happened that evening.”
“All right. I’ll do it. But not tonight. Tonight’s just for me and Connie. Tomorrow we’ll face the consequences.”
“And stand up to Martina too?”
“Yes. I think facing the police is going to be easier than facing Martina.” He rose from his perch on the desk and picked up a briefcase. “I’d better be off.”
“Just one thing before you go…”
“Yes?”
“We’ve established that you never came on to any of your juniors…”
“I hope we have, because I can assure you – ”
“No, no, that’s fine, but what I want to ask is: if Kyra Bartos didn’t leave this salon because you’d been molesting her, why did she leave? She hadn’t been here very long.”
“Ah.” Martin Rutherford looked embarrassed. “Yes, there was a bit of a problem.”
“What was it? Come on, you’ve told me all the rest.”
“Well, all right,” he said wretchedly. “The fact is, as I said, I’ve never touched any of the juniors. But the pretty ones…well, occasionally I might say something. Nothing offensive, just a compliment. And Kyra was very pretty, so…well, I never think it hurts to tell a woman she’s pretty. It was completely innocent.”
“Then why did it become a problem?” asked Garble implacably.
“Because of Martina. Martina did not like me making these compliments to Kyra. She got the wrong end of the stick. She thought that I fancied the girl.”
“So that’s why Kyra had to go? Because Martina was jealous of her?”
“Yes. Well, I suppose that’s right.”
“How jealous is she?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, if Martina had got it into her head that the relationship she imagined you to be having with Kyra was still continuing, then she might have a motive to – ”
“No, no, you’re talking nonsense. Dangerous nonsense. Come on, I must go. Just check Kelly-Jane’s got everything tidied up.”
Down in the salon all was neat and swept clean. The manic activity of half an hour before might never have happened. A tall girl who must have been Kelly-Jane stood with a bundle of keys, clearly waiting for the all-clear to go home.
“Thanks, Kelly-Jane, looks great. Not sure whether I’ll be in in the morning or not.”
“Will Martina?”
“No, of course not. She’s off to Prague.”
“Oh, I thought she might have changed her plans.”
“No, she’ll be on her way to Heathrow now. Friday night traffic, she’ll have left about five.”
“No, she was here.”
“Here? When?”
“Came in within the last half-hour. Went upstairs. I assumed she was talking to you in the office.”
“I didn’t see her.”
Kelly-Jane shrugged. This wasn’t her business. “Well, I don’t know what she was doing up there then.”
“Is she still here?”
“No, she rushed out about ten minutes ago.”
“Did she say where she was going?”
“She didn’t say anything. She just swept out, looking absolutely furious.”
The realization came to Martin and Carole at the same moment. Martina must have been in the outer office. It had been she who had closed the door. She had heard all of their conversation.
“Oh, my God!” shrieked Martin. “Connie!”
The speed with which he rushed out of the salon left Carole in no doubt as to who he thought was responsible for the murder of Kyra Bartos.
Thirty-Seven
Jude had been expecting to hear from Carole, but not from such a panicked Carole as the one who rang from the Martin & Martina in Worthing. It took a moment for Jude to take in the information that her friend was on her way, but that Connie Rutherford was at her salon and in immediate danger. Carole was going to call the police, but could Jude get down there as soon as possible?
She rushed to Connie’s Clip Joint as fast as her chubby legs could carry her. There was nobody around; the moment the shops shut, Fethering High Street became deserted.
A sleek green Jaguar was parked outside. No lights showed in the salon, but to her surprise when she tried the front door, it gave. Moving very slowly to avoid creaks, Jude advanced into the body of the shop.
The door to the back room was slightly ajar, and a pencil of light spread out across the salon floor. As Jude advanced towards it, she became aware of a passionate, heavily accented voice coming from the back room.
“…and I know he is coming here, because I follow him. I see him bring in red roses and I think it is for that girl who work here. Martin always fancied her, I could see from the way he looked at her. I didn’t then know it was you he was visiting. I thought he had enough of you when you were married. I didn’t expect Martin to be coming back…like, how do you say it…a dog to his own vomit?”
The lack of response to Martina’s speech suggested that her victim had been gagged or otherwise incapacitated and, as Jude got close enough to peer through the slit of the door, this was confirmed. Connie was cowering in an old chair, a thin white towel tied tightly around her mouth. Her jaws moved as if she was trying to speak, but no sound came out. Ominously, the dome of a hair dryer loomed over her head.
“So there’s a good cause of guilt for you, Connie. You start an affair with a married man and what effect does it have? An innocent girl gets killed. The blood of Kyra Bartos is on your hands, and for that reason I’ll not feel so much guilt about having your blood on my hands.”
Even through the towel, the whimper that Connie let out at that could be clearly heard. Jude knew she had to move quickly. Martina was still invisible to her, probably with her back to the door. She certainly wasn’t near the lead to the dryer, so if she was planning to replicate her previous murder method…
Jude decided quickly. She had to. If she burst in through the door, there was a good chance of knocking Martina off-balance, certainly of keeping her away from the electric flex. Jude put her shoulder down and barged forward.
She hadn’t thought of a gun. Nor, when the automatic was pointed at her, did she think of arguing with it. Instead, she sat obediently on the seat next to Connie’s.
“You, Jude. Of course, nosy Jude. Jude who so conveniently told me about my husband being seen here last Sunday. So now it will be three deaths you have caused, Connie. That’s what you get for stealing someone’s husband. And I’m afraid it will have to be your nosy fat friend who goes first.”
The gun was still pointing at Jude, but now Martina Rutherford brought up her other hand to steady it. Not one to mess about, thought Jude. Oh well, at least she’ll save me from rheumatoid arthritis.
What happened next was so quick that only later could Jude piece together the sequence of events.
The back door crashed open and Martin Rutherford burst into the room.