Curled Up Dead

By Mike O'Sullivan

Curl Up Hairdressers in Ross on Wye have held another successful annual Salon Party for their clients and staff. However, after a vibrant evening heaving with invited guests Maggie and Jennifer have more than just empty glasses and plates to clear up – there is a woman’s body slumped in a corner chair and she is not just sleeping off the night’s revelry. Chief Inspector Worcester and his team are called in to investigate the murder of Caroline, eldest daughter of the Duke of Hereford. She was not invited to the party. What was she doing there and who killed her? The case is sensitive with connections to be tracked across the country so Inspector Kirby is called back from his long deserved holiday in the Caribbean to help tackle the large number of potential witnesses. Lauren Canning, Chief Inspector Worcester’s insider in the hairdressing society of Ross, is on hand to help and may just have some vital information given her insights into the high flying society of the rich and famous in the county.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike O'Sullivan
• Release date: Oct 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370954964

Mike O'Sullivan

Mike is an Irish novelist and poet, married and living in Herefordshire England. He was born in Dublin and spent his school years in Cork. In primary school Mike needed to get by the eagle-eyed headmaster who looked hard at his long essays designed to hide the words he could not spell. This carried on further up the line when at UCD the Professor of English likened Mike to another who could not spell, George Bernard Shaw. But Mike made the connection, he did not have to be a genius at spelling.He moved to London in his twenties and has worked in a wide range of industries – music and cosmetics, in oil exploration, mining, insurance, catering, City Finance and Management Consultancy. Mike uses that experience in his novels. When he first arrived in London Mike fell in with a group of three other Irishmen debating the philosophical process of making a million or finding a job that was more like pleasure. Mike found the job, but it would take too long to explain his philosophy here. Mike says that in a sense he had a plan for life and so far it has been working out.His novels often start with an individual battling the system but without a plan of how he or she will cope. Mike believes that social systems and institutions are usually rigid when it comes to change or quick decisions and therefore the individual can become trapped. It takes effort, some courage and guile to walk out into the wider world of individual thinking. He shows that an individual can focus enough to even the odds and come out on top. He often uses humour and comedic situations to make his point leaving the reader to consider the underlying philosophy if they wish. A key element of Mike’s writing is the Irish skill of fast paced conversation as Mike’s overall aim is to entertain his readers.

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Curled Up Dead

By

Mike O’Sullivan

Copyright © 2017 by Mike O’Sullivan

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This is a work of fiction based upon an actual event. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Curled up Dead

Chapter 1

The Saturday party had died a sudden death about eleven thirty at Curl Up Hairdressing, Ross on Wye. It had started at six pm when work finished for the day. This was an annual event to mark the opening day in July, now twenty five years ago, when the owner’s parents started the business. The party was mainly held for staff and their friends. A few younger clients made up the rest of the party goers. The night was unusually warm. Everyone was in light party clothes, men without jackets, women in sleeveless mini dresses.

‘It was inconceivable how many people managed to squeeze in,’ Maggie the owner called out to Jennifer one of the hairdressers who had stayed behind to tidy up. Maggie was now levelling off the charm she had kept up all evening. Her new low cut green dress and dangling pearl earrings, long sleek black hair waving down past her shoulders didn’t look so cool now with a dish cloth in her hand. This was beginning to irritate her.

‘Well the men had a good time,’ Jennifer called back over the music that was still on as she collected up glasses to take to the kitchen. ‘You wouldn’t believe the number of them who blatantly pressed up against me as they passed.’

‘Well it’s the way you push out that draws that kind of activity to you,’ Maggie laughed as she pulled in her stomach and pushed out her chest to demonstrate.

Jennifer could now see the difficulty volunteering to stay behind had got her into. The lights were still low. She was feeling uncomfortable about having to lean into the sink with the water splashing. Her night was stretching away from party cool to domestic scrubber. Glasses and food were everywhere. She was kicking bins with her heels. But she told herself that she really couldn’t get out of it. She supposed she was the next stand-in for Maggie when the owner was away. So she could have a stake in the business. Her volunteering had meant she had to let a plausible hunk go, still she was also a bit worried about meeting someone in her workplace so no matter.

Maggie had inherited the business from her mother when she retired to the South of France. Maggie was only six years older than Jennifer who had reached the advanced age of twenty two just that day. They didn’t often end up without a partner at parties. But somehow this one drew in a lot of shallow hounds who thought they just had to show up to walk off with a woman. That attitude didn’t take into account the outgoing nature of the women who worked at the salon. Together they could pull apart this weakness in men. But they were more generous than that normally. Maggie and Jennifer didn’t feel obliged to lower their standards this time and were quite easy about letting the men drift off, though Jennifer was more reluctant than Maggie.

‘Maggie I think it might be a good idea to turn the music down in case we get gate-crashers,’ Jennifer called out.

They were in the most fashionable spot in the town, narrow streets surrounded by book shops, smart cafes, galleries, antique shops and the Wye Hotel. It was the kind of location where parties might be expected to be hosted by cool divas. And although the greater part of the salon was up on the first floor it didn’t stop the lads cruising by to look in during the day. At night the shiny black exterior with the green lettering and yellow star bursts did resemble a night club entrance. This was the theme envisaged by the architect who had drawn up the design which she had called ‘forever partying.’ The interior was also a reflection of partying. Tonight the dance music had drawn in talent from miles around. Even with blinds drawn it hadn’t deterred them from imagining the ravishing bodies that might be waiting inside. Maggie turned off the music so that they could concentrate on clearing up.

‘The lights worked a treat Jennifer. It was a great idea of yours to concentrate them shining at the ceiling. The place looked the coolest I’ve ever seen it.’

‘I saw it done in a movie,’ Jennifer responded modestly.

‘The mirrors worked well with them. It was so cleverly worked out that you couldn’t tell where anyone you were looking at was in the room. But you could see who they were with.’

‘It was a lot darker than I thought it would be,’ Jennifer observed ‘so people kept bumping into each other. I saw a tall chap trying it on with you Maggie. Did he get anywhere?’ Jennifer asked her boss.

‘I don’t know who he was or who he came with,’ Maggie responded ‘but when his hand connected with my boobs I told him I was married to a professional wrestler.’

‘Did he believe you?’ Jennifer asked.

‘I don’t know. But he slunk off.’

‘Difficult to do in such a confined space,’ Jennifer quipped.

‘There were quite a few I didn’t recognise,’ Maggie mused. ‘How about you did you know everyone?’

‘Not at all and I had to be careful because I don’t know everyone’s latest fixation. The men on the other hand were not under any such pressure seemingly moving from one woman to another. Maybe it’s a new trend and I’m not into it yet. There’s a bit of decadence about it don’t you think?’

‘It tends to be like that these days. No-one was able to get away with anything when my mother held parties. She knew their mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters. But everyone knows that I don’t.’

‘What about the one in the red shirt and beige pants,’ Jennifer mentioned ‘when he stretched his arms out his shirt became a tent imprisoning anyone he caught inside it. It was like a butterfly net.’

‘Yea I came across him,’ Maggie laughed. ‘I was a butterfly for a while until the stifling heat got to me along with his musk deodorant. While his arms were out to encircle me and I got the clear impression he would push my shoulder straps off, so I slipped a slice of lemon out of my glass down his pants.’

‘Did you notice how the slivers of silver paper transported the images in the mirrors to a kind of dreamland?’ Jennifer mentioned. ‘Whose idea was that?’

‘Lauren Canning of Mirror Images had seen it at ‘The Dive’ in London,’ Maggie explained. ‘She thought it wouldn’t cost much to set up or take down.’

‘She’s turning out to be quite clever isn’t she,’ Jennifer acknowledged. ‘And she’s gone all stylish.’

‘She must have a rich man in tow,’ Maggie laughed.

They were at the stage of finishing the washing-up in the kitchen when Maggie said ‘It’s tidy enough to have Petra in to clean in the morning I think. I’ll just go around once more.’

Then just half a minute later Jennifer heard Maggie scream. She rushed out of the kitchen to see what was going on and found Maggie pointing to a chair in one corner.

‘She’s dead Jennifer. She’s dead. Call the police.’

Jennifer looked behind the chair that had been turned facing the corner and recognised the ravishing body of Lady Caroline Bollinger, model, socialite and Jennifer thought stealer of other women’s men. Lady Caroline had a large wound across her throat. There was blood all down her dress. For a moment Jennifer stood rooted to the spot as if she was in a trance.

‘How did she manage to get into the party?’ Jennifer asked Maggie. ‘Isn’t she known as Lady Bitch? Isn’t she banned? The rumour on the street is that Caroline Bollinger is loathed by all the hairdressers in town and banned from all the salons. She was forced go to Hereford because of it.’

‘Really, Jennifer, I didn’t hear that,’ Maggie had got her voice back and was looking sadly at the dead woman.

Jennifer recovered herself and phoned the police.

‘Who did you say it was again?’ the woman who took the call asked.

‘Lady Caroline Bollinger. She is the daughter of the Duke of ….’

‘It’s all right love I know who she is,’ the woman at the other end of the line declared. ‘We’ll have someone there as soon as possible. Please don’t touch anything.’

‘I don’t know about you Maggie but I need a drink,’ Jennifer found a glass. ‘How I didn’t notice her there as I cleared up I don’t know. Why didn’t anyone else notice her before?’

‘Maybe for the same reason that neither of us did,’ Maggie responded. ‘I’ll have a shot too Jennifer. How could it happen? Why did it happen? What this will mean to the business I can’t imagine. I hope I’ll still have a business. Of course it’s sad to die in such a way but I now think she’s trying to ruin my business. It doesn’t make any sense and I’m sounding like a careless bitch. Why couldn’t she have been killed in an alleyway around the corner?’

‘Maybe the alleyways are too safe these days,’ Jennifer tried to assure her ‘and someone followed her in here with murder in mind and a corner to do it in.’

They had retired to the kitchen to finish a bottle of vodka but Jennifer went back out to take another look at the dead woman.

She called out to Maggie who came out to look too. ‘She must have been drunk when the slash was made. You would expect her to be looking pained at least. But she looks as smug as ever.’

‘Well it could have been a very sharp knife that she never felt until it was too late. ’

‘She has a nice body though Maggie. Throwing it around may have been compulsory. Her social level out in the palaces and manor houses may not have been as exciting as we might assume. So to get some life into her, common life, she might have had to rely on places outside the restrictions of her own circle.’

‘Like us,’ Maggie laughed.

‘She might have felt that her manor house circuit was small and insular,’ Jennifer surmised. ‘We are many, so many that she possibly overlooked that we all talk to each other and know what is going on. She may have only realised that when she was banned.’

‘Did she know she was banned?’ Maggie asked.

‘Don’t know. Don’t care,’ Jennifer responded.

‘That dress must have cost a fortune,’ Maggie observed. ‘That dark blue silk against her red hair is fantastic.’

‘Even dead she looks good,’ Jennifer admitted. ‘I suppose the police will want to know who disliked her and who hated her enough to murder her.’

‘They will need a shorter cut than that Jennifer. Suspecting most of the women in town under thirty isn’t going to solve her murder any time soon.’

‘This could get messy Maggie. You will want the police out of here along with Lady Bitch as soon as possible.’

‘The thought had crossed my mind. If we’re closed a short time, say a day or two we might be able to make up lost business with a curiosity factor.’

‘You mean everyone wanting to sit in the seat in the corner?’ Jennifer smiled.

‘I can’t see that appealing Jennifer. It might give people nightmares. No we’ll have to throw the seat out. It’s all given me a headache I must deal with it very soon. How much of the gore do we reveal in the story?’

‘There might be people who will come in just to congratulate us in getting rid of her.’

‘I hope we won’t have too many of those. The police might start to suspect us of bumping clients off.’

‘So let’s stick to a mild curiosity then,’ Jennifer concluded.

They didn’t hear the police arrive until there was a ring at the street door. Two men and a woman stood outside on the pavement, one man showing her a card and introducing himself, the other man carrying a leather bag.

‘I’m Chief Inspector Worcester of Hereford Special Unit. I hope you are Maggie Chandler the owner of the business. You called us.’

They didn’t look like normal police. The Chief Inspector was wearing combat pants with a grey shirt. The others were also casualty dressed.

‘It was one of my hairdressers who called you Chief Inspector but I discovered the body.’ She looked by him at the others.

‘Oh,’ the Chief Inspector introduced the others, ‘this is Dr Welling who is a pathologist and Constable Cunningham. May we come in?’

‘It’s upstairs. Jennifer will show you. I’m Maggie Chandler,’ Maggie introduced herself.

She closed the door after they had all started up the stairs. Maggie was beginning to feel weary as she followed them up. The time had sneaked into early Sunday. Everything was starting to feel strange. All the silver, the lights and the mirrors were feeling out of place. How long would the police stay? What would her business be like after they had gone? And what difference would that murder make in the end?

She reached the men and woman arched around the chair where the dead woman was still looking fresh like she was sleeping off a hangover.

‘You might need more lights,’ Maggie offered a quicker way for them to make their examination.

‘Thank you Miss Chandler,’ the Chief Inspector replied.

‘Is this her handbag?’ Chief Inspector asked having quickly put on a pair of gloves to examine it.

‘I suppose,’ Maggie replied without any conviction. ‘It suits what she’s wearing and it is expensive.’

He opened it and poured out the contents on the counter. He picked up the keys for an Audi and held them up.

‘We are looking for an Audi TT parked somewhere near. She wouldn’t walk far in those heels. Am I right Miss Chandler?’

‘Yes Chief Inspector, now that you mention it. I can’t wear them. I’m sure she couldn’t drive in them.’

‘Thank you for your advice Miss Chandler. Anything about her you care to comment upon that might be significant?’ he asked the salon owner.

‘Well, she’s in an odd place seated all alone in the corner. Not exactly the most sociable location at a party. But perhaps she was making a phone call. The signal is best in this corner.

‘So she wouldn’t be that desperate to find a man here?’

‘I don’t think she was ever desperate Chief Inspector. I think she saw men as a challenge especially when they were attached to other women. Of course there could have been a man with her. A man who did that’ she said pointing to the throat of the victim.

The Chief Inspector’s mind split looking at the body and at Maggie Chandler, considering the last hours of the victim and thinking that either of these hairdressers had the time to reset the scene of the victim. He got the distinct impression that neither of the women cared much for her.

‘So a jealous woman could have committed the murder?’ he suggested.

‘I’ll admit that I can’t think of anyone that I saw at the party who was quite that desperate,’ Maggie responded.

‘She would have changed shoes in her Audi do you think?’ he put forward. Chief Inspector Worcester was a man who engaged people in his investigations. It was the best way to get cooperation and information in solving his cases.

‘I’m sure of it,’ Maggie declared.

‘These are the contents of her handbag, not a very big handbag but then she was at a party. Would you think there was anything missing, anything that would normally be there but isn’t?’ he asked her.

‘No phone Chief Inspector’

‘Thank you, that was observant of you. If you can think of anything additional will you let me know Miss Chandler?’

‘Yes Chief Inspector.’

Dr Welling didn’t take long to declare cause of death. He thought time of death would have been in the last two hours but he would be more certain after full examination back at the lab. He closed up his bag and told Maggie that the body would be taken away soon. She thought soon to be about ten minutes. Chief Inspector Worcester asked her if she could remember who was at the party.

‘If you like Chief Inspector,’ Maggie offered ‘I could ask everyone I know was there to write down all the people they saw at the party.’

‘I appreciate your help Miss Chandler. Your offer is a very practical one which I gladly accept. I am however wondering if you could somehow persuade your staff to keep the whole thing quiet. I don’t know how you would do that. Of course with all the police activity in and around the salon we will have to come up with an explanation for the public and your clients – a run of the mill burglary I think. You will have to tell your staff about the murder and hope I suppose that if they value their jobs they will cooperate and keep it all to themselves. If the story gets out into the public domain now we might find the case slipping away from us. It would certainly prolong the time your salon would have to remain closed.’

‘I can only hope they won’t say anything in public Chief Inspector. But I could never guarantee it not getting out. At the party there was a terrible crush and people got in who were not invited. The dead woman was one of those ’

‘Why would she come if she was not invited?’ he asked.

‘You possibly won’t know about her Chief Inspector,’ Jennifer interrupted ‘but she was easily the most detested woman in Ross. The rumour is that she is banned by all the hairdressers, some pubs, clubs, some shops and possibly other places I don’t know about. She was known for baiting men, husbands, boyfriends, she didn’t care. You can see she was good looking. According to the stories the men came back with, she knew every trick to lure them. She only went after men who were at least hooked up with someone else. She was pure trouble wherevever she went.’

‘You don’t think the men put out the rumours to cover their tracks of philandering? I haven’t heard of such a feeble excuse before,’ he put to Maggie. ‘And it does seem a bit lame.’

‘There maybe something in that Chief Inspector,’ Maggie agreed.

‘Was it her wealth that made her so obnoxious?’ he asked.

‘Who can tell,’ Maggie replied and then added. ‘I’ve heard some stories about the rich inbreeding and creating monsters. Maybe she was one of those.’

‘She must have had some good points,’ he suggested.

‘Whenever I saw her I wondered what drove her on. I mean what did she think about as she got up in the morning? I wouldn’t have thought she would ever have needed to work.’ Jennifer added.

‘It seems to me from what you are saying Miss,’ he turned to Jennifer, ‘that she didn’t have much to live for.’

‘I believe she went to Cambridge University to study arts. She stayed there a long time before she got her degree.’

‘Which would mean she got a good grounding in her subject. I know a mechanic in Ross who studied engineering at four different universities. He is now the most sought after Formula 1 mechanic in the business. So I wonder if she put her studying to any use?’

‘I never heard of her being any use. Look Chief Inspector the only use I can see her being is to other hairdressers in the town. She could well put us out of business,’ Jennifer moaned.

‘I want to have the salon thoroughly cleaned tomorrow, well today now, so that we can open as usual on Monday morning,’ Maggie pleaded.

‘It is for that reason that I have asked the forensic team to be here as soon as possible – around 5 am they tell me. They will need at least six hours I’d say to go through everything. I notice all the glasses have been washed. That is a pity. So the team will have to be more on their toes than usual, not easy on a Sunday morning.’

‘When can I have Petra in to clear up?’ the anxious Maggie searched the eyes of Chief Inspector Worcester for an affirmative answer.

‘When they have finished Miss Chandler. You could stay here or have one of your hairdressers here to make sure you can get to clean up the moment they have finished. I can’t be any clearer. We’re in the hands of the forensic team.’

‘Is there anything else I can do to speed things along Chief Inspector?’ Maggie asked.

‘If you could tell me all you know about Lady Caroline Bollinger that might help us. I was thinking about her friends, who she went around with, where she went shopping, clubbing, her hairdresser, where she parked her car, where she lived, anything.’

‘If you give me time to clear my mind of the shock, the alcohol, and the sense of trying to cope with the salon and keep it open, I’ll try to make time to concentrate on that Chief Inspector. You may find people somewhat reluctant to come up with names and reasons for the murder when they would probably all admit to feeling relieved that Caroline is no longer about.’

‘I get the message Miss Chandler. That might be all the more reason why the forensic team have to take longer to pick up everything here. We will have to rely more on what they find.’

‘So what do I do, just leave