Chapter 36

A bell tinged above them as they entered the premises of Sew Cute in Bewdley.

A man sat side on to them in front of a top-of-the-range Singer sewing machine. It appeared that the shop space was divided into two halves. To the left were small garments with sales tags on, and to the right were garments which looked like alterations hanging on a long rack.

‘Kelvin Hobbs?' Kim asked, taking a step forward. There was no reception or desk, so it was unclear where shop space and workspace divided.

‘I am he,' he said, standing.

‘Got time for a chat?' she asked, holding up her ID.

‘Oh my, about what?'

‘Our current investigation.'

‘Well, of course. Do you prefer downstairs or up there?' he asked, pointing out back.

Kim looked past him. ‘Why, what's up there?'

‘My flat.'

‘Down here is fine,' she said, looking towards the front door. She didn't want their chat to be constantly disturbed by the tinging of that bell.

‘Almost the end of the day anyway,' he said, walking past her. He turned the sign to closed and locked the door.

She guessed him to be mid-forties from his face but a bald patch that he was valiantly trying to cover aged him by a further ten years. He was wearing knee-length shorts and a colourful tee shirt.

‘Bear with me,' he said, heading out back. He returned with a couple of metal chairs. ‘There, that's better.'

‘We understand you're well connected in the pageant world,' she said, taking a seat.

‘Oh, not any more. Ten years ago maybe.'

‘You may still be able to help us, Mr Hobbs.'

‘Kelvin, please,' he said, holding up his hand. ‘The only Mr Hobbs I know disowned me when I made my first dress, but that is a whole other story.'

‘Okay, Kelvin, we understand that you were chief dressmaker to the pageant girls back in the day.'

‘I was indeed,' he said proudly before letting out a long sigh. ‘I was very much in demand. Couldn't keep up with orders. I was turning people away,' he finished wistfully.

‘Do you miss it?' Bryant asked.

‘Sometimes. I got to meet such a lot of lovely little girls. Not all of them. Some were brats; proper spoiled little madams.'

‘What about the mums?' Kim asked.

‘Oh, all of them were brats,' he said and laughed, leaving Kim to wonder if he was serious or not.

‘What drew you towards the industry?' Kim asked, wondering how exactly that happened. Was it a detour from another career or what he had always dreamed of doing?

‘Oh, I'd loved reading about pageants since learning of the medieval May Day celebrations.'

‘The what?' Kim asked.

‘That's where they date back to. A May queen would be chosen from a procession. Beauty contests became more respectable with the first modern Miss America in 1921. They developed over the years, but the majority were for young, unmarried women. I used to watch all of the big four: Miss Universe, Miss World, Miss International, Miss Earth. The smaller ones that feed into these aren't normally televised, but the big ones are quite the visual spectacle.'

‘How about child pageants?' she asked.

‘Well, the modern child beauty pageant emerged in the sixties in Miami. I think the first Little Miss America began at an amusement park in New Jersey, but that was for the thirteen-to-seventeen age range.'

‘How many ranges are there?'

‘However many the organisers can include to make as much money as possible.'

‘Explain,' Kim said. She hadn't known it was that complicated. She figured kids turned up, put on their sparkles, got judged and went home.

‘I've been at pageants where they have as many as eight age ranges, the youngest being zero to eleven months and the oldest being sixteen to eighteen.'

‘How does that make the organisers more money?' Bryant asked. ‘Surely it's the same number of competitions?'

Kelvin shook his head. ‘The ranges are announced ahead of time. Parents see less competition for their child if there are many age ranges. Imagine if you had one-year-olds competing with four-year-old kids. Then when you add up the entrance fees for each category…'

‘Hang on. Don't you just pay to enter the competition?' Kim asked, starting to wonder just how much money was involved.

‘Ha, no chance. Each category is usually a separate entrance fee, so there's talent, outfit of choice, sportswear, theme wear, evening wear, decade wear. They all cost money to enter, and you can't get the big prize unless you enter them all.'

Kim said nothing, indicating he should continue.

‘The supreme titles are only available to girls who have entered every category and then a Grand Supreme is crowned. That's the title with the money, big prizes, scholarships. All the things that help to make the investment worth it.'

‘Investment?' she asked, making no attempt to hide her incredulity. That was a word that belonged in sentences with houses, savings schemes, jewellery, perhaps Star Wars collections but certainly not beauty contests.

‘Of course. Many parents feel the expenditure will be recouped and multiplied in the future, from modelling contracts, acting or even presenting work. Pageants are raking it in from parents who want to give their children the best chance of a bright future, but so are all the subsidiary services. In America alone they have over two hundred and fifty thousand pageants and the industry is worth twenty billion dollars. We don't have the same numbers here, but it's growing in the UK every year.'

‘What's an average spend per pageant?'

He laughed. ‘Oh my goodness, there are too many variables. A lot depends on whether it's glitz or natural.'

Her blank expression earned her a dramatic eyeroll.

‘Natural only allows lip gloss and mascara.'

How natural was lip gloss and mascara on a six-year-old? Kim wondered.

‘But the money is in the glitz. You're looking at the cost of hotel rooms, professional make-up artists, coaching fees. A good pageant dress can cost up to eight thousand pounds.'

Kim balked. Her entire wardrobe wasn't worth that.

‘There are families that have gone into debt, even lost their homes chasing the big prizes. Don't get me wrong, the kids deserve it. Training includes long hours and strict daily routines. Some are pushed beyond their limits and denied necessary rest. There are private coaches and pageant schools popping up around the country. It's a growing economy.'

‘I'm waiting to hear about the fun,' Kim said.

‘Hmm…it's not really about that. It often starts that way, but the attitude of the child is often dictated by the parents.'

Again, Kim found herself thinking of Toyah, who had been having a great old time. Kim didn't doubt that for a minute. When she'd spoken of those times, a natural joy had appeared to spread over her face. She'd said she'd loved it all, and Kim believed her. What she wasn't as sold on was the girl's reason for leaving. There was more to that story than she'd been told.

The dressmaker continued. ‘I've been at pageants where contestants have put itching powder in their rival's dress. I've seen girls distraught because their dress has been cut up. I've seen clothing and underwear missing, basic bullying.'

‘Sounds pretty toxic,' Bryant observed.

‘It can be. It all depends on the parents. Some have been known to send presents to the judges to curry favour. Many moms target the biggest competitors with gossip and criticism. Kids have been disqualified due to the behaviour of their parents, but few people take it as far as Wanda Holloway.'

Kim shrugged to indicate she had no clue.

‘Wanda Holloway was a Texan woman who, in 1991, hired a hitman to kill the mother of her daughter's rival for the cheerleading squad. I know that's not quite the same but…'

Close enough, Kim thought.

‘Why not try and kill the kid though?' Bryant asked.

‘Ooh, it takes a seriously sick person to kill kids. The death of a parent is often enough to disturb your focus. Throw you off your game.'

‘You probably dealt with quite a few of the mothers when making dresses,' Kim said.

‘Well, of course. They were my bread and butter.'

‘Any strike you as particularly troublesome?'

‘Officer, I worked in the industry for twelve years and made, on average, fifty dresses per year. You're going to have to narrow it down a bit.'

‘Do you remember working for a woman named Sheryl Hawne?'

‘Hell yes.'

Kim sat up straight. Those two words told her a lot. Of all the parents he'd dealt with, he recalled this one immediately.

‘Care to elaborate?'

‘She was an absolute terror. Wouldn't even let me design the dresses. She'd bring me a photo with her own amendments and wanted them followed to the letter. If even one rhinestone was out of place, she knew about it.'

‘And her daughter Katie?'

‘Oh, Katie was adorable. A real cutie. Must have got her looks from her dad's side. Bless her, she was terrified of the woman. I don't mean physically – there was no violence that I know of – but Sheryl was a very intimidating presence. Hell, even I was scared of her, and I didn't have to go home with her.'

‘But you kept working for her?' Kim asked.

He laughed. ‘If I'd refused to work for every difficult mother, I wouldn't have lasted very long.'

‘Did Sheryl put a lot of people's backs up?' Kim asked.

‘I'd imagine so. If she was demanding with me, I'd assume she was the same with other service providers.'

‘Any particular incidents you recall?'

‘May I ask what this is about?'

‘Sheryl Hawne was murdered yesterday.'

His hand flew to his mouth. ‘Oh my God, how awful, how terrible. Oh my. I don't know what to say. I feel terrible about all the things I just said. God rest her soul.'

‘No need to feel bad about the truth. That's exactly what we need right now.'

‘How's little Katie?'

‘Not so little, but to answer your question I think struggling is a fair assessment,' Kim said honestly.

‘Poor girl,' he said, looking genuinely concerned.

‘Do you remember a woman named Andrea Shaw?'

‘Toyah's mom?' he asked as the colour began to drain from his face.

Kim nodded.

‘Don't tell me she's…No, you can't be…'

Kim nodded.

‘Jesus Christ, sorry Lord,' he said, glancing upwards. ‘What the devil is going on?'

‘That's what we're hoping to find out. Were the two of them close?'

‘None of the mothers were close. They didn't go for coffee or the occasional night out. These women don't really make friendships; it's more like they form alliances against a common enemy.'

‘And did they?'

‘N-Not that I can recall specifically. To be fair, they were very different people.'

‘Is there anything you can remember that might have linked them?' Kim asked.

‘They used the same make-up woman, I think, but then so did many other moms.'

‘Got it,' she said, standing. ‘You've been a great help.'

He stood and moved towards the door.

‘Last thing,' Kim said as a thought occurred to her. ‘You clearly enjoyed the pageant world, so why did you leave it?'

‘It was just time to move on,' he said, unlocking the door.

She would swear she saw a slight tension tighten his jaw.

‘There must have been something,' she pushed, stepping over the threshold and onto the pavement.

The face looking at her now was completely different to the affable one they'd seen inside the store. His expression was wary and guarded.

‘Nothing I care to share, Inspector. Safe travels and have a good night.'

Before she had the chance to ask anything further, the door had been closed in her face.

Two minutes ago, Kelvin had been candid and informative, offering insight and background. He'd been a co-operative helper, and now she had to wonder if he was something more.

‘Strange,' Bryant observed.

‘Which particular part?' Kim asked as they approached the car.

‘The part where he said the mothers formed alliances against a common enemy but was unable to give us anything further.'

Yes, what the hell was that all about?