No Short Cuts

By Mike O'Sullivan

Lauren Canning, hair stylist at Mirror Images in Ross on Wye, receives a dramatic phone call first thing on Monday morning when a client, a banker’s daughter, announces she will commit suicide. During the call Lauren texts Chief Inspector Worcester of the Special Police Unit on her mobile who rushes to the scene. The investigation follows international bankers and money laundering, international drug syndicates, the FBI, and complicated double crosses.
Although no-one is entirely innocent the nearly innocents are drawn into the high level intrigue of cut throat greed and have to try to survive when they don’t know from where the next danger is coming. Trust is in short supply and there are no short cuts for Chief Inspector Worcester and his unit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike O'Sullivan
• Release date: Nov 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463094051

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.

Book preview

The Hairdresser Murders - 6

No Short Cuts

By

Mike O’Sullivan

Copyright © 2018 by Mike O’Sullivan

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by photocopying or any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage or retrieval systems, without permission in writing from both the copyright owner and the publisher of the book.

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.

The right of Mike O’Sullivan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 and any subsequent amendments thereto.

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No Short Cuts

Chapter 1

Mirror Images, Ross on Wye, Monday February 9

Lauren Canning picked up the first phone call of the day at 9.01. Juliana Sengrove, known to all as the ‘banker’s daughter’, who had had her hair done the previous Saturday by Louise, started a long rant about the state of the cut. Lauren was no ordinary hairdresser. At twenty four she was independently wealthy and was part of the county set, but she still liked the creativity of the salon and the company enough to feel that this was where she wanted to be. She had an uneasy feeling about Juliana’s phone call. It was real because it was happening but there was something unreal about Juliana’s voice. The hairdresser couldn’t pin it down. Lauren recalled that on Saturday afternoon Juliana had not seemed at all happy and didn’t know what she wanted. In the end she had relied on Louise keeping her current style going until the next time. Now Juliana’s rant included a threat to commit suicide, so Lauren, who had already got her mobile in her hand, started to text Chief Inspector Worcester at Hereford police Special Unit to alert him.

It was the first sunny day of the year, sunlight beginning to stream through the large salon windows. The music had just been turned on and the other stylists were preparing for their first clients of the day. Lauren listened intently, mobile still in hand, pen and paper close by. She was still standing behind the reception counter. A few of the other hairdressers had got the gist of something going on and moved a little closer. But Lauren was barely conscious of that. There was something not quite right about the context of this call. She knew people sometimes got upset about styling that didn’t turn out like they’d wanted. Wedding cuts were the most nerve racking to get right because of the star quality of the bride on the day. But suicide! She could hear a clock strike 9 in the background as Juliana continued. When she finally fell silent for a moment it enabled Lauren to get in a word.

‘Miss Sengrove I am terribly sorry your cut didn’t work out for you. I hope you would consider giving us another chance to put things right. We would of course not charge you. But it isn’t worth what you are contemplating. What do you say?’

Lauren waited to make sure Juliana was still there. She thought it better that Juliana should do the talking. While she was talking she couldn’t do any damage to herself. Lauren felt a little panic grab her. She took deep breaths. Juliana kept up the rant. Lauren was trying to out-think their client but nothing came immediately to mind. She couldn’t believe that the Juliana she knew would consider a move like suicide. She had only heard her speak a few times and thinking back to those times she thought that Juliana was sensible if a bit happy go lucky. She could afford to be. Her father was one of the wealthiest men in Herefordshire. Lauren knew he didn’t spend that much time in Ross and mostly used what was rumoured to be a fine house in Mayfair when he was in England. In fact there was talk that none of the family used their local house much. The two daughters were at university and the mother lived mostly in Mayfair too. When they did stay in Ross Juliana was the only one who used Mirror Images. The Sengrove local house had a road frontage of about 500 yards on the A49 and was considered a little quiet compared to the partying in the other large houses that lined the outskirts of Ross.

Lauren now began texting the police again with detail, the address, age and description of Juliana. Meantime Juliana kept up the rant. Then quite suddenly she stopped talking. There was silence for a few seconds before she was speaking again. ‘Well that’s it world, I’m off somewhere else.’

It all went very quiet. When Lauren looked up she found all the other hairdressers around her listening in. She sat down in the receptionist chair behind the counter. She could feel her cheeks burning. She was stunned. She looked blankly at them.

‘I did all I could,’ she explained ‘It’s Juliana Sengrove. She says she’s going to commit suicide.’

‘Shouldn’t we call the police?’ Louise suggested looking alarmed.

‘I’ve done that,’ Lauren answered. ‘I’ve texted Chief Inspector Worcester with all the details.’

‘Then you couldn’t have done anything more Lauren,’ Sophie confirmed.

‘Did she say why she was going to commit suicide Lauren?’ Louise asked still showing signs of anxiety.

‘I’m trying to put it together in my mind Louise,’ Lauren responded ‘and do you know I can’t for the moment do that.’

‘Inspector Kirby,’ Chief Inspector Worcester rose urgently from his desk at the Police Special Unit in Hereford, we have an emergency.’

They had just signed off the case of a missing French diplomat whom they had discovered in Fownhope, a village some four miles from Hereford, with the wife of the French Ambassador to Nigeria. The Chief Constable had congratulated the team heartily before leaving for his holiday on Bermuda.

‘Not a trip to the Dark Horse first Sir,’ Inspector Kirby replied reminding them where the Chief Constable usually gave his orders to his Chief Inspector but not yet aware of the Chief Constable’s holiday. He grabbed his new beige leather jacket he had bought on Saturday from behind a chair on which Constable Ursula Cunningham had been sitting and noted that she had managed to crinkle up the collar.

‘No it’s not the Chief Constable this time. It’s the hairdresser Lauren Canning from Mirror Images in Ross,’ Chief Inspector Worcester called out as he looked awkwardly at his own rather old grey leather jacket. ‘Remind me to visit your leather shop when we get a moment.’

‘So it’s serious Sir,’ Inspector Kirby asked as they made their way down to the car park.

‘It’s an address on the main road from Ross on Wye to Hereford. I can’t tell you the name of the house but I know where it is. Have we got JJ’s device for opening electronic gates? We have not been invited.’

‘Yes Sir I’ve got it with me.’

‘When we reach the car call the paramedics. Tell them it might be a suicide attempt and to keep their sirens silent. If we step on it we should just about get there at the same time.’

‘Any idea what’s brought this on Sir?’ Inspector Kirby asked as they piled into the Chief Inspector’s silver Audi.

‘Lauren only texted so I guess she was getting the suicide threat on the salon phone and texted us as it developed,’ the Chief Inspector called out as he started the engine while passing Inspector Kirby his mobile with the text.

Inspector Kirby looked at the mobile wondering what he was to do with it but guessed he’d get instructions soon enough. He’d got his own mobile in his other hand to ring the paramedics. Their jackets had been despatched to the back seat without ceremony. The Chief Inspector’s Audi roared up and took off like a rocket towards Ross.

‘There was something not quite right about her, about the call Louise,’ Lauren reported. ‘It was almost as if it wasn’t her. I don’t know how to explain it. I mean it isn’t as though I know her well. The accent was similar from what I recall of her. But the intonation wasn’t her. I’m sure of it.’

‘She could sound different if she was upset,’ Louise declared.

‘I was thinking that too Louise,’ Lauren confessed ‘but it was more than that. And the other thing that went through my mind as she was talking was why didn’t she call back on Saturday? I mean the first thing you do when you get home after a visit to the hairdressers is to look in the mirror to check that it all went right. You don’t wait.’

‘What could it all mean then?’ Sophie asked.

‘I don’t know yet Sophie,’ Lauren admitted.

‘I don’t know if I would recognise her voice on the phone either Lauren,’ Louise confirmed.

‘What was she like on Saturday Louise?’ Lauren asked her.

‘She was more agitated than usual at the start but had calmed down by the time we were finished,’ Louise responded thoughtfully. ‘Funny, it struck me at the time that her hair had nothing to do with her agitation. Her hair was fine when she arrived. I just tidied it up. She apologised for being abrupt and mumbled something about her sister’s boyfriend and her mother. I think they had a row before she came for her appointment.’

‘But suicide Louise?’ Lauren left the question hanging before answering it herself. ‘I just don’t think it could be possible, she’s only about twenty.’

‘And why phone here anyway,’ Louise questioned the logic, ‘why not the police or the ambulance service?

‘Maybe it wasn’t her at all,’ Sophie suggested. ‘It might be someone trying to cause Juliana trouble.’

‘I hope that’s it,’ Louise muttered.

‘I hope I never have friends like that Louise,’ Sophie concluded.

‘I still think it’s very odd,’ Lauren mused. ‘But it is worrying nonetheless. I mean, besides the fact of whether she was upset by the haircut or something completely different, because she phoned here it will be seen as hugely significant and could get us a bad name. It’s not the greatest way to start the week is it?’

‘Inspector could you call Lauren. You’ll find her number on my mobile. She’ll be worried about her client. She’ll also be thinking over what more she could have done. And of course she’ll be thinking about the salon’s reputation. Tell her we’ll let her know the outcome as soon as possible and that we are on the way.’

Inspector Kirby made the call. By this time they were travelling way over the speed limit with blue lights flashing but no siren. It was one of those mornings when drivers were dawdling as if they had all day to get along and when the police car came across them they were so relaxed they couldn’t make up their minds which side of the road they should escape the blue flashing lights. The varying speed limits as they sped through the villages were no help either.

‘If Inspector, Lauren thinks there’s something odd going on then there will be. Expect anything.’

‘I suppose Sir if it is suicide and not a call for help, then it depends on which way the potential suicide wants to call it. There is a significant possibility, considering the head start they had, that we will not get there in time anyway.’

‘We have to think we will Inspector,’ Chief Inspector Worcester advised. ‘Not long now.’

‘I hope the Chief Constable will forgive us taking on the cry for help from a hairdresser Sir. It isn’t exactly why we were formed.’

‘You might be right in your assumption Inspector. Let’s hope that there is a national security aspect to this. We have called on Lauren in the past for help ourselves so I hope the Chief Constable will understand.’

‘You think he’s the understanding sort Sir?’

‘He’d really surprise me if he were Inspector.’

‘I think that’s code for he is the least understanding person you know, Sir.’

‘You could be right Inspector.’

The rest of the drive was uneventful apart from an old buffer who stopped in the middle of the road when the Chief Inspector had him lined up as going to the left. The Audi became a swearing machine as he made an emergency serve to pass the hunched up figure holding onto the steering wheel of his ancient Land Rover while his sheepdog yapped in his ear.

‘You’re slowing down,’ Inspector Kirby warned the Chief Inspector.

‘It’s somewhere around here Inspector.’

‘Ambulance parked up ahead Sir. It’s on the right just by the 30 miles per hour speed limit sign,’ the Inspector said reaching down to the pocket of his cargo pants for JJ’s electronic gadget.

‘Got it Inspector. Yes this is the place. Have you got that gismo ready?’

‘Now I see the house Sir it’s huge the suicide caller could be anywhere inside.’

‘Well Inspector it’s a daughter’s room so it will be on the first floor I suppose near the main bedroom, just off centre at the front. But we have to get into the house first. Think of that while you’re opening the gate.’

‘In a house that size Sir they’ll have a butler,’ Inspector Kirby reminded his boss.

‘I suppose you’re right Inspector. Well here we are.’

Inspector Kirby waited for the car to navigate the parked ambulance before jumping out up in front of the large black ornate gates that must have been copied from somewhere like Buckingham Palace. He pointed JJ’s invention at the receiver and the gates buzzed open. Chief Inspector Worcester turned off his flashing blue lights and Inspector Kirby signalled to the ambulance to follow them. He then dived back into the Chief Inspector’s Audi which shot off down the gravel drive spitting gravel onto the manicured lawn and coming to a halt two hundred yards further on in front of the massive house. Inspector Kirby reached behind onto the back seat to grab their jackets and pushed the Chief Inspector’s into his hand as he reached to release his belt and open his door. Both policemen shot out of the car and ran up the steps side by side towards the double black doors. They pushed them open easily. In the large modern well-lit hallway that was panelled in a light wood with the usual hunting scenes in oils, they encountered a startled man who was dressed like a butler. They extracted their IDs from the jackets they were carrying. The butler only got a cursory look as Chief Inspector Worcester demanded to know where Juliana’s bedroom was urgently saying it was a case of life and death. The butler wasn’t about to argue with them. He was pointing up the stairs but before he could articulate where to go they had grabbed his arms from each side and began to frog march him up the wide staircase. The Chief Inspector was explaining the position as they climbed the stairs. At the top the butler pointed to Juliana’s bedroom.

‘Come on man it’s a matter of life and death,’ the Chief Inspector reminded the butler who seemed to be in shock.

They dragged him towards the bedroom door he indicated which was in a long wide corridor with a large window at the end letting in the sun. They sat the butler in a chair beside the door.

‘Do not let anyone in nor call anyone while we are in there. Have you got that?’ the Chief Inspector demanded of the butler.

‘Yes Sir,’ he whispered as he sat down uncomfortably but didn’t move.

The Chief Inspector knocked once on the door and then both men walked rapidly into the room. A young woman was sitting at a window dressing table tidying up her long dark hair. She turned around looking terrified.

‘Are you Juliana,’ Chief Inspector Worcester asked the startled young woman. ‘We are police.’ They both had their ID’s in their hands.

‘What are you doing in my room? Who let you in?’

‘Look Miss will you just please answer my question and I’ll explain everything to you.’

‘Yes I’m Juliana,’ she replied.

The policemen visibly relaxed.

While talking Chief Inspector Worcester took in his first impression of the young woman in front of him. She was about twenty, tall, maybe five nine, slight and pretty. She was wearing green jeans and a white long sleeved shirt. Her denim jacket was on the chair beside her. Even though they had startled her she looked the assured and independent sort.

‘The reason we are here is because your hairdressers, Mirror Images in Ross, got a phone call purporting to come from you about you committing suicide and we were asked to check it. We have arrived as fast as we could. But you don’t look anything like a suicide to me.’

‘That sounds just too bizarre,’ she was looking at them in disbelief. ‘Is this a joke?’

‘I don’t think so Miss, not if you consider some of the cases we have been on. We are a Special Unit based in Hereford. And I’m going to sound even more bizarre now when I must warn you that I think your life could be in danger. I think we should explore that point immediately.’

‘Phew,’ she squeezed through her teeth. ‘You could be anyone.’

‘Look Miss Sengrove here are our ID’s and this is my mobile. You can ring the police in Hereford and check us out. But it will waste time,’ Chief Inspector Worcester advised.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ she looked perplexed.

‘Right Miss here’s one scenario I would like you to consider very carefully. Someone rings the hairdressers sounding just like you to complain about a hair cut you had on Saturday and as a result of the hair cut going wrong says she is going to commit suicide. You have a cup of tea in bed or a bit of breakfast downstairs and suddenly fall sick and die. You’ve been poisoned. You’ve been murdered. But because you made the call you will have been deemed to have committed suicide. The hairdresser at Mirror Images, whom we know quite well, thought there was something not quite right about the call and alerted us. We arrive and here you are as well as ever. Can you explain it? Did you make such a call?’

‘No I did not and I can’t explain it either. Can I have a look at your cards again?’

‘Of course.’

Both policemen handed her their cards.

‘Have you got your mobile phone with you Miss?’ Chief Inspector Worcester asked her.

She walked over to the bedside cabinet as if to retrieve it but turned around with a frown.

‘Would you have left it on the hall table Miss,’ Inspector Kirby asked her ‘I saw one on the table.’

‘With an orange cover?’ she asked.

‘Yes Miss,’ he replied. ‘I’ll get it.’

Inspector Kirby went to the bedroom door past the manservant still seated outside. He rushed on down the stairs and saw the ambulance team hovering in the entrance.

‘Sorry chaps, false alarm. You can go now,’ he called before turning to the hall table where he found the mobile just where he had spotted it on the way in. He picked it up in a handkerchief and ran upstairs again. He stopped at the bedroom door and asked the servant ‘Does anyone in the household know we are here?’

‘There’s no one in beside Miss Juliana and myself at the moment Sir.’

‘Could I rely on you staying here and not touching anything?’

‘Yes Sir.’

The butler looked like he could do with a large, whiskey.

‘Good. And thank you.’

Inspector Kirby went into the bedroom again. He walked over to the bed and put the phone down still in the handkerchief.

‘Now we have a quandary,’ the Chief Inspector frowned ‘before we checkout the last phone calls. The question is, was the call made from this mobile, or the landline, or was it made from somewhere else.’

‘When did you leave your mobile on the hall table Miss?’

‘About ten o’clock last evening.’

‘Was there any reason to leave it there?’ the Chief Inspector asked.

‘It’s habit. I change handbags regularly. I don’t always put the same things into the new bag. I am in the habit of leaving my phone in one and forgetting to transfer it. So to remind me I leave it on the hall table when I know I’ll see it before I go out.’

‘Sounds logical enough,’ the Chief Inspector noted.

‘You don’t mind anyone looking to see who you phone?’ Inspector Kirby asked her.

‘Not really. In truth I am not that attached to it. It interrupts my thinking process too much when it goes off which isn’t often. Most of my friends are too busy to spend time on the phone. But now that you mention it perhaps I should keep it closer.’

‘There’s something else that just struck you Miss Sengrove to make you feel keeping your phone closer might be a better idea,’ Chief Inspector Worcester suggested.

‘It’s in the way my sister Claudia has been acting lately.’

‘Could you be more specific? Oh excuse me could you first tell me how many people live in this house?’ the Chief Inspector asked.

‘Your servant says everyone else is out,’ Inspector Kirby added.

‘And could you tell us when you expect them back or where they are?’ the Chief Inspector asked her.

‘Well we all live somewhere else normally. But this morning my mother, my sister and her boyfriend were here first thing. We all stay here sometimes. It’s used as a weekend or holiday place, although my sister and I were brought up here when we were young, before boarding school. My mother, well she’s our step mother, lives in our house in Mayfair. She drove back there earlier this morning. My sister lives in Highbury in London but she’s gone to Cheltenham where her boyfriend lives. My father is in New York at the moment.’

‘So you don’t expect them back for a while?’ Inspector Kirby asked.

‘Our mother Angelina usually stays a few weeks at a time in London. Claudia I imagine will stay in Cheltenham for a few days before going back to London.’

‘What do you and your sister do for a living? Chief Inspector Worcester asked.

‘I am studying law at Birmingham and Claudia is studying art at St Martins in London. So we are not making a living yet Chief Inspector.’

‘So I take it you normally live in Birmingham during term Miss,’ Inspector Kirby