Lola's Hair

By Mike O'Sullivan

Hairdresser Lauren Canning is once more unexpectedly involved with another of the Special Police Unit’s cases. This time Lauren recognises her anonymous client ‘Anne’ as the film star Lola Glass, followed a few days later by another new client ‘John’, Lola’s husband.

Then the Chief Constable gives Chief Inspector Worcester of the Special Police Unit the task of finding Lola’s husband who has suddenly disappeared. The Chief Inspector finds the recent appointment with Lauren in his diary and so Lauren becomes involved in the case. Lauren realises there is something going on and soon unearths a web of deceit and coverup. Then a body is found and the investigation becomes one of murder.

The case reveals luxury lifestyles and the influence of the hierarchy giving free reign to illicit affairs, complex business arrangements and duplicity in international trade and politics.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike O'Sullivan
• Release date: Jan 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9780463037386

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 - 9

Lola’s Hair

By

Mike O’Sullivan

Copyright © 2022 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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Cover design copyright © Mike O’Sullivan

Chapter 1

July 2 Ross on Wye, Herefordshire, England

Lauren Canning, stylist at Mirror Images, welcomed her new client ‘Anne’ and directed her to a chair. Only it was not ‘Anne.’ Lauren recognised Lola Glas the Iranian film star, model and wife of David Glas, owner of the Glas Department Stores chain. Anne’s, or Lola’s, amazing natural beauty and elegance attracted attention from everyone in the salon. They tried to be casual about it. Lauren had given up part of her lunchtime to accept the appointment.

‘Anne,’ Lauren smiled ‘would I be right in guessing that you are just looking for me to do a light trim and blow-dry?’

‘Yes. I have an important engagement in Cheltenham later this afternoon and I would like to be perfect for it.’

‘I’d say that would be very easy to fix ‘Anne,’ Lauren responded just pulling back the sides of ‘Anne’s’ hair when ‘Anne’ winced and Lauren identified a bruise at the hairline over one ear.

‘Sorry ‘Anne’, but you know you have a bruise here. It would not be seen with your hair down in case it worries you and your engagement. Have you had anyone look at it?’

‘It must have happened at the gym this morning when I fell,’ ‘Anne’ replied. ‘It doesn’t hurt. I can disguise it with makeup myself.’

Lauren noticed that ‘Anne’ had already applied make up to her cheek where the stylist suspected the bruise had spread. So it was quite a bump. Or maybe more than a bump.

‘Anne’ was simply dressed in a white long-sleeved blouse and blue skirt. But there was nothing simple about the woman herself. Lauren had met Lola, and her husband David, at a party in Cheltenham about three months earlier. But it was obvious that the film star did not recognise her new hairdresser now. Rumours had piled into the party about the couple’s affairs and general libertarian lifestyle. Lauren remembered that the couple’s behaviour lent itself to over familiar association with others and gave easy expression to the rumours of multiple affairs and casual one-nighters.

Lola shone. She had the most gorgeous, tanned complexion, long thick black hair currently in curls, she was strikingly beautiful and very independent. Besides acting and modelling, she was an artist of note painting in oils. Her paintings, Lauren had learnt at the party, were in many posh houses in London.

Lauren knew that Lola usually went to the Slix Hair Salon in Hereford when she was staying in her Herefordshire home. That house was a couple of miles out of Hereford. Jo Weald, her hair stylist at Slix, had once mentioned her famous client to Lauren at one of the Hereford parties. Lauren thought that Lola had decided on a Ross hair appointment this time in the hope that she would not be recognised. Lauren thought Jo at Slix would have asked more searching questions about Lola’s injury and because Lola’s country house was on the Ledbury Road just outside Hereford, it was too near the rumour machine that might have erupted around the area. So Lauren thought the incident that caused the bruise must have been a bit more serious than Lola was indicating.

Lauren kept Lola talking about her hair throughout the appointment so that the actress was aware how it was coming along and all went without a hitch. Lola was delighted with the outcome, something Lauren felt proud about, Lola was easily the most famous client she had had to date.

It was a talking point for days after. But when David Glas arrived at the salon booked with Lauren four days later, the rumour machine took off again. He turned up as ‘John’. What was this handsome entrepreneur doing in Ross and at Mirror Images Lauren thought? It could not be a coincidence. Their conversation as she worked was minimal and he too did not recognise her from the Cheltenham party. Lauren was intrigued.

However her new client’s wealth and fame did not unnerve her as much as it might other stylists at the salon. She was already quite wealthy herself due to more than a run of good fortune over the past year. But she had decided to keep her feet on the ground by staying with the people she knew best at the salon, and her other friends in Ross, before she learned to fly up market. She thought it would be some time before she felt she could leave Mirror Images behind. She confided in her colleagues, as hairdressers are inclined to do, to work out a reason for her new client’s visiting Ross. Her colleagues thought that Jo, her friend at Slix in Hereford, might have mentioned Lauren’s name to Lola, in conversation.

David Glas’ visit took more working out. But the conclusion reached was that he was checking up on his wife. They thought that he was worried she was seeing a man in Ross who was styling her hair. Now that he had learned there was no man in the salon, he would have to think again about the reason his wife chose Ross. They thought that Lola was staying clear of her husband until the bruise had gone down. Arriving at that conclusion meant that someone else was involved, and that the someone else would have to be a man, a lover maybe. Lauren wondered if that was the last she would see or hear of the famous couple.

Lauren had other friends in Hereford who were a bit suspicious of how she came by her wealth. They headed the Special Police Unit, and they seemed now to be on a course to meet again. Constable Cunningham called across the main enquiry table at the Hereford Special Police Unit,

‘Sir the Chief Constable would like you to meet him at the usual place.’

‘Right, Inspector,’ Chief Inspector Worcester called out to Inspector Kirby, ‘we are needed at the Dark Horse.’

Both detectives launched themselves out the door towards the Chief Inspector’s silver Audi. It was one of those hot sultry July mornings when everyone was easy about life and was drawn to the blue cloudless sky. The two detectives wore their trademark blue denims and white shirts. When they reached the car they threw their leather jackets into the back seat and the Chief Inspector accelerated away. It was 9am but the road was comparatively empty of tourists and the rush hour as such, had just finished. Inspector Kirby opened the second button on his shirt he felt that relaxed about the day. They made good progress past the Herefordshire cider orchards to their destination that was a few miles down the road out of Hereford.

The Chief Constable’s navy-blue Jaguar was in its usual place under a tree in the Dark Horse car park. The Chief Inspector left his colleague in the Audi and transferred to the cigar infested Chief Constable’s Jaguar, pressing the window button down to let fresh air into the car as he opened the door, and hoping that the conversation was not going to take long. The Chief Constable was in his own trademark dark blue suit, white shirt and military style tie. Chief Inspector Worcester already overpowered by the stale cigar smoke, reflected only too often on the need for the SAS to leave Herefordshire so that the Chief Constable might abandon this peculiar habit of meeting as if they were undercover spies on a mission.

‘I hope you have a clear mind this morning Chief Inspector,’ he quipped, and Chief Inspector Worcester thought why did his boss not just hand him a tiny piece of rolled up cigarette paper with all the instructions written in invisible ink.

‘I’ve been up since 6am Sir and I got my head clear one minute later.’

‘Good, because this one could get a bit messy. David Glas of Glas Department Stores has been reported missing by his housekeeper. That information route to me has come via your pal Chief Inspector Morgan at the Hereford Police Station. The housekeeper is instructed to report her employer missing if no-one knows where he is for more than two hours. He was expected for lunch yesterday at his Herefordshire address but failed to turn up. I have phoned the Home Secretary to see if it is worth your Unit investigating instead of the local police and I have been given the green light.’

‘I understand Sir that Glas leads a life where he has been constantly in the spotlight for more than a decade and would probably consider it a great prize to get a few hours to himself or even a few days.’

‘The anxiety over his whereabouts is not just a family matter or security of a high-profile CEO, Chief Inspector. He also works for the Government in the capacity of an international commercial observer.’

‘I don’t think from what I have read about him Sir, that it is a particularly suitable role for him. You are saying he is a spy.’

‘Well not quite a spy Chief Inspector. He reports on overseas attitudes to the UK. He reports on companies who are competitors to UK companies. He has proved to be of enormous assistance to UK Trade Missions.’

‘So he’s a valuable member of society Sir.’

‘Well many might dispute that Chief Inspector, given the way he leads his social life and the rumours that attach to him.’

‘Those are the rumours that lead you to believe in the messy scenario Sir?’

‘Well no ransom note has been received so far.’

‘Is one expected Sir?’

‘I would have expected it, Chief Inspector. His housekeeper didn’t express any view on why he has disappeared. He might, as you suggest, have just taken off on his own. But according to his housekeeper, that would be unusual. However, I can’t myself understand the two-hour rush of anxiety considering he could spend two hours travelling between his stores or travelling on holiday. I can only assume it must be a rule attached to his Herefordshire home. What I would expect you to do is to trace him to wherever he is, and report back to me. You might also look at his personal finances and those of his company just in case his disappearance has a financial angle to it. The Home Secretary is worried about the Government being associated with a man whose finances are not well defined. You need to move quickly.’

Moving quickly was what Chief Inspector Worcester wanted to do after a few minutes in the cigar box that was the Chief Constable’s Jaguar. He scrambled out of the car before the Chief Constable could change his mind. Out in the open he took a deep breath of clean healthy air before re-joining Inspector Kirby in the Audi.

‘That was the quickest exit I’ve witnessed so far Sir. You didn’t want to hear any more. Was there a live snake in the back seat?’

‘I’ll have his bloody cigar smoke on my clothes for a few hours now Inspector.’

‘I can testify to that Sir. And our next assignment?’

‘David Glas the department store owner has gone missing. Apparently when that happens it is reported to the local police. This time it’s with Chief Inspector Morgan. He passed it onto the Chief Constable to get us to look into it. Glas had only been missing for two hours when Morgan was warned. Glas works for the Government as some sort of commercial spy and reports to the UK Trade Department.’

‘From what I’ve heard Sir, he could be on a wild week partying on the Med.’

‘He didn’t turn up for lunch Inspector. That’s how serious it is.’

‘Doesn’t he have a place just outside Hereford on the Ledbury Road Sir? I have heard he lives in a sprawling Georgian farmhouse. You can see it from the road. He’s married to a film star.’

‘We’ll get back to base Inspector, do some rudimentary checks, and then chase down the house and housekeeper while the others check up on his finances, associates, colleagues, wife, and his last movements.’

Ten minutes later Chief Inspector Worcester gave his Team initial instructions, phoned the housekeeper who had reported Glas missing, and then both detectives set out for the Ledbury Road and Rushington Manor Farm.

‘I would imagine Inspector we are to meet people who are more charged-up than the usual range of suspects. So we must be conscious of keeping an open mind, leaving some leeway for acting, impulsive reactions and clamping up on associates, friends and finances.’

‘Next gateway on the right Sir, the one with the white balls on the gateposts.’ A high red wall some two hundred yards long fronted the property. The large black electronic gates were open.

Chief Inspector Worcester turned into a long drive through landscaped parkland surrounded by fields, and drove up to a very substantial three-story house in red brick, and parked at the foot of steps that were wide at the bottom and narrowed as they reached the very shiny white double doors. They got out and looked about before climbing the steps. It seemed like they were in a village. The red outbuildings were all designed to fit with the farmhouse’s clean lines and were obviously all used with gravelled tracks linking them between carefully manicured lawns. There were at least two cottages as well, and stables to the side of the house led into a rear courtyard.

They felt they had the lay of the land for the moment, so they climbed the steps and the Inspector pulled the bell handle which they could hear sounding in the hall. A young woman opened the door.

‘Miss Clover?’ Chief Inspector asked.

‘That’s me Chief Inspector, Phoebe Clover. I’m the housekeeper.’

She was about twenty-five in shorts and t-shirt, not at all what they were expecting. She had sounded at least ten years older on the phone. Maybe she was an actress too, the Chief Inspector thought. She was lovely enough to grace the screen with her golden wavy hair falling over her shoulders. The Chief Inspector introduced himself and the Inspector and they showed her their ID cards, not that she was in the least interested in looking at them.

‘I hadn’t expected someone so young to be housekeeper Miss,’ he remarked.

‘No reason why not Chief Inspector. I’m a good organiser and excellent cook. I got used to waiting on tables and washing up to get through uni. and we have cleaners and gardeners of course. I look after things. Come in. We’ll go into David’s study first. He’s left his phone there and it should have his diary dates as well as other information you might need. I haven’t looked at it myself. You can ask me anything.’

They followed her through a wide hall with rich red walls and polished wooden floor with oriental runners, into a large room of bookshelves and photos mainly of fashion models and department stores. She directed them to David Glas’s desk. The Chief Inspector sat in the store owner’s chair and the other two sat in chairs opposite. The Chief Inspector handed the phone to Inspector Kirby while he looked through the desk drawers. There was little on the large polished oak desk itself, a laptop, a clock, lamp, a pad and pen. There were doodles on the pad. The Chief Inspector looked up past where the other two were sitting to the glass doors leading to the garden directly behind the house.

‘I know it sounds a bit dramatic,’ Phoebe commented, while the two men searched for clues, ‘to ring the police when David goes missing for just a couple of hours. But I am bound to do so in my contract. This is an age where people who are small and insignificant look at Facebook and other media platforms and act like they have a right to do the things they do. There’s little realism about sometimes. In such a world people with positions of any kind of power become targets for wierdos.’

‘I’d say that’s a very outward view to hold Phoebe,’ Inspector Kirby commented. ‘I suppose housekeepers have to be quite practical, even more so for such a high-profile employer.’

‘I treat it more like a family home Inspector. I know it’s only one of several houses David and Lola own, but it’s got a character of its own and I try to keep up with it.’

‘A good philosophy to have Phoebe,’ Chief Inspector Worcester agreed.

‘Sir, you might like to take a look at last week’s diary entries, especially the one relating to Ross on Wye.’ Inspector Kirby handed David Glas’s phone over the desk to his boss.

‘Is something wrong?’ Phoebe asked.

‘I’d say it’s more unusual than wrong Phoebe,’ he responded. ‘How much do you know about where Mr Glas gets his hair cut?’

‘Well usually he goes to a salon in London, in Knightsbridge. Why do you ask?’

‘Have you viewed his phone calls recently?’ Chief Inspector Worcester asked her.

‘I don’t go through anything personal like phone records,’ she replied.

‘Is that because you might find secrets you don’t care to know about?’ Inspector Kirby asked.

‘Well there is that Inspector,’ she replied, in a matter of fact way, ‘but I really have enough to do here. You’d be amazed at the number of tasks there are to keep this house on top form, and believe me that is expected. I try to be operationally orientated and leave all the other aspects of family and individual lives to someone else. I don’t get involved. I believe both David and Lola like it that way too.’

‘You mention family. Are there any children? Do they live here?’ Inspector Kirby asked.

‘They have two daughters. Since I have been here, and it will be one year next week, I have only met them twice. Lucy who is the youngest is at boarding school in Sussex and she sees little reason for coming up here, she’s fourteen but already into the London scene. I’d be the same in her shoes. Leila who is sixteen is some kind of child prodigy and is already at Warwick University studying engineering. She stays there most of the time. But she does go to the family house in Knightsbridge where I suppose there’s more life than here. I suppose there’s plenty of time for her to discover the space that’s here in Herefordshire.’

‘Do you mind me asking what you studied at university Phoebe?’ Inspector Kirby asked.

‘Languages,’ she answered, ‘French and Spanish.’

‘But you decided not to pursue them by living abroad then,’ Inspector Kirby commented.

‘True,’ she admitted ‘but this job came up and the pay is superb. I do get to practice on some of the overseas guests I meet here. Also there are a lot of overseas phone calls associated with the Department Store business and Lola and her work can also involve taking messages from abroad.’

Both detectives meticulously searched the room for anything that might give them a clue as to why Glas had disappeared. Then Chief Inspector Worcester asked Phoebe to show them the bedroom which they searched as she watched.

‘Is there anywhere else he uses regularly where he might have left some indication to explain his disappearance Phoebe?’ Chief Inspector Worcester asked the housekeeper.

‘I had a quick look all over Chief Inspector, even out by the pool because he likes swimming, but I didn’t find anything. I rang Lola but she was not so concerned because I believe she thinks he is having at least one affair and could be off on that. But they live their lives at such pace that I’d find myself out of my depth trying to make any sense of it all. So I left it at that.’

‘Sensible,’ Inspector Kirby confirmed.

‘Could you take us through the rest of the house Phoebe and the surrounding buildings so that we may have a better idea of the layout of the estate?’

While they were walking around Chief Inspector Worcester asked her about Glas’s routine when staying at the house.

‘He usually rises at 6am. He says if he got up any earlier it would not be worth his going to sleep. He usually, but not always, has a swim for between thirty minutes and an hour, and then showers before breakfast. And breakfast is only cereal and coffee. Sometimes he has only orange juice. He says it is better to feel a little hunger than begin the day full of food. Then he looks at his business messages on his laptop and does his phone calls and emails until lunch time. Sometimes he goes for a run around the estate. That usually takes about thirty minutes. He is inclined not to overdo the running but goes out for the fresh air. Lunch is usually salad of some kind and coffee. Then he gets back to work