Fethering 08 (2007) - Death under the Dryer by Simon Brett, Prefers to remain anonymous Read Free Book Online

grinned. “Now, is today going to be the day?”
    “The day I look at it in the mirror and—?”
    “No, no.”
    “The day for what then?” Jude asked innocently.
    “You know perfectly well. The day you decide to do something different with your hair.”
    “Are you about to use the dreaded ‘short’ word, Connie?”
    “Look, it’s lovely hair. It should be shown to advantage. It’s funny, Jude, I don’t think of you as someone who’s afraid to take risks.”
    “I’m not. And let me tell you, my hair has probably been through more metamorphoses than Madonna’s. Back when I was modelling…God, it was a new style every couple of days. Which is why I really feel I’ve done my experimenting. I’m happy with it the way it is.”
    “But you could look so much smarter. With it like this you look like…I don’t know…”
    Perhaps delicacy prevented Connie from continuing, but Jude provided a suggestion. “A superannuated hippy?”
    “You said it. Come on, Jude, make today the day.”
    Firmly, the client shook her head. “Nope. Don’t feel like it. One day I will feel like it, and I promise you, when that happens, I will have the transformation done at Connie’s Clip Joint. But today is not the day.”
    “Huh.” Connie picked up her scissors without enthusiasm. “So today it’s just like your neighbour’s, is it?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Same shape, but shorter.”
    The impression wasn’t perfect, but it did capture something of Carole’s manner, and Jude chuckled. “That’s right.”
    Connie started cutting, and her client relaxed into the experience. Theo didn’t have an appointment for a while and sat reading a motor-racing magazine, a choice that seemed butchly at odds with his public demeanour. Jude was once again amazed at how people in certain jobs coped with the waiting. Shop assistants, restaurant staff and hairdressers had an ability to slip into a half-life, go inert and yet come immediately to energetic life when a customer entered. That was another part of the job, she reflected, that a salon junior like Kyra might have found hard to cope with.
    “Ooh, Jude, something I was going to ask you…”
    “Yes?”
    “You’re into alternative therapies and that, aren’t you?”
    “Well, to some extent,” Jude replied cautiously.
    “I’d really like to talk about that at some point.”
    “Why? Have you got some problem that you need help with?”
    “No, no, it’s not for that, not for me. It’s just increasingly salons are offering other services, apart from the straight hairdressing. Manicure, ear-piercing, massage, all that stuff. Lot of modern salons are getting more like beauty spas. Sunbeds, detox wraps, you name it. That’s certainly the way Martin & Martina are going.” She couldn’t keep the resentment out of her voice when she mentioned her ex-husband’s business. “I just wondered if you were into any of that stuff, Jude…?”
    “Not really. What I do is therapeutic…you know, helping people feel better.”
    Connie grinned. “So you’re just like a hairdresser. I tell you, we’re very definitely therapists—for all the listening we do, apart from anything else.”
    “Yes, I’m sure you are.”
    “Well, if there were some service, you know, that I could refer my clients to you for…we’d make it a business deal. Look, take one of my cards. That’s got my mobile number on it too. And give me a call if you can think of a way we can make it work.”
    “I will.” Jude couldn’t envisage anything coming of it. She didn’t want her healing services to become part of anyone’s pampering regime, but discussion of the project might be another way of keeping in touch with the hairdresser and maybe, eventually, rinding out more about what had happened at Connie’s Clip Joint. In the meantime, the best way of eliciting information remained the direct question.
    “Have you had any more contact from the police, Connie, you know, since you