The Lipstick Killers

by Lee Martin

  ‘Are you serious?’ said Margaret, incredulously.

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘Wait a minute. Couldn’t it have happened on impact?’ Mags looked at her sister, whose face was a picture of horror. ‘Sorry Sharon, but this is crazy.’

  The detective shook his head. ‘No. Not possible. Our technicians are convinced. A team has been out to the crash site and they found brake fluid on the road.’ Mahoney again turned to Sharon. ‘I understand your husband was returning back from near the coast.’

  Sharon nodded.

  ‘A business meeting, I believe.’

  Another nod.

  ‘He was an accountant,’ he said, looking again at his notebook.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you know where exactly the meeting was held?’

  ‘No. A hotel or restaurant I believe, but I don’t know where. Monty just said it was near the coast.’

  ‘Isn’t that rather strange? Out of office hours, in a public place?’

  ‘I think they’d take a private room. I don’t know. You know these businessmen, they do most of their important work over fancy three-course dinners. My husband’s clients were sometimes very demanding,’ said Sharon, her tone slightly imperious.

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Odd hours. Phone calls in the middle of the night. He didn’t discuss his business with me.’

  ‘But you don’t know where this particular meeting was taking place?’

  ‘She just said she didn’t know,’ interjected Margaret, glaring at the detective.

  ‘That’s another thing,’ said Mahoney, ignoring her. ‘I’m sorry to bring this up Mrs Smith, but when examined, your husband was over the legal limit for alcohol.’

  Sharon started to cry.

  Margaret held her hand and said. ‘My sister’s upset as you can see. Do we have to continue this now?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Sharon. ‘Can I have some water?’

  Margaret got to her feet. ‘This is not the time,’ she said to Mahoney, although she knew it was. She knew she would have done exactly the same thing in his shoes.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he replied. ‘But you know as well as I do…’ He didn’t finish the sentence.

  Margaret nodded. ‘Do you want anything?’ she asked him, softening.

  ‘A cup of tea would be great. I missed breakfast.’

  ‘I’ll only be a moment,’ said Margaret and left the room, leaving Sharon staring numbly into space.

  18

  Margaret went into the kitchen, her mind racing after hearing what Mahoney had said. The kids were upstairs, but Frankie was sitting at the table with Roxie, talking quietly. ‘What’s up?’ asked Roxie. ‘You look awful.’

  Margaret leant against the sink as she filled a glass with water. ‘Christ,’ she said. ‘This is getting worse.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ asked Frankie, her voice full of concern.

  ‘This copper. Mahoney. Flash git. He reckons Monty’s car was fixed.’

  ‘How do you mean, fixed?’ squealed Roxie, loudly.

  ‘Ssshh, keep it down. Tampered with. The cops reckon the brakes were sabotaged.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ said Frankie, quietly.

  ‘Yeah. Look, I’m going back. Make the sod a cuppa will you?’

  ‘How did Sharon take it?’ said Frankie, as she got up and filled the kettle.

  ‘Not well. Would you? She was just getting a bit stronger but I’m worried that this is going to put her right back where she started,’ said Margaret, and left the room, glass in hand.

  She went back to the living room where Mahoney and Sharon were sitting in silence, Sharon dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. She took the glass and gulped down half the water. ‘Once again I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news,’ said Mahoney. ‘But this is bound to alter the verdict at the inquest.’

  ‘When will that be?’ asked Margaret.

  ‘Tomorrow. The coroner’s court is in town.’

  ‘We’ll find it.’

  ‘I’ll call and let you know what time.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Just then Frankie came in with tea, milk and sugar on a tray. Mahoney stood and was introduced to Frankie, who quickly left the room again, then sat back down and accepted a cup. ‘We need to find out what happened and where,’ he said to Sharon. ‘Is there any way of finding exactly where your husband spent the evening? I’m sorry to keep on, but it’s important.’

  ‘I suppose Joyce might know,’ she said.

  ‘Joyce?’ said Mahoney.

  ‘Monty’s secretary. Assistant. She’s at home as far as I know. But she’s as upset as the rest of us. She’s been with Monty for years…’ said Sharon, her voice trailing away.

  Then Margaret remembered the jacket, wallet and phone that the uniformed sergeant had brought round the previous day. ‘There were some things of Monty’s that were recovered from the car. I’ve got them upstairs.’

  ‘I know,’ said Mahoney. ‘I wonder if I could see them.’

  ‘You didn’t say,’ said Sharon to her sister.

  ‘I meant to,’ said Margaret. ‘I was going to tell you today. I just didn’t want to upset you any more.’

  ‘As if I could be,’ said Sharon.

  ‘I’ll get them,’ said Margaret.

  ‘Shall I come with you?’ asked Mahoney.

  ‘No need. I won’t be a minute.’ She was gone before he could argue.

  She ran up the stairs and collected the wallet from the drawer where she’d stashed it. She went through it fast. Cash, credit cards, a family photo of Sharon and the children, a couple of receipts, but nothing from the day he’d died. She stuffed everything back into the wallet and found the jacket in the wardrobe. It was empty except for one card tucked into the breast pocket. It was for the Crown Hotel, Lovedean, Hampshire and on the back was a mobile number scribbled in blue ink. She shoved it in her pocket and went back downstairs. At the sight of the familiar jacket Sharon started to cry. ‘Sorry, love,’ said Margaret, touching her on the shoulder, tenderly.

  Mahoney took the jacket, the wallet and the phone. ‘Can I search these?’ he asked.

  Sharon nodded.

  He went though the pockets and the wallet carefully. ‘Nothing here. I’ll take the phone with me if I may,’ he said. ‘I’ll have one of our technical blokes go through it, retrieve any information that may be germane, and get it back to you.’

  ‘Germane?’ said Margaret, her eyebrow raised,

  He nodded, ignoring her sarcasm.

  ‘So, is that all?’ she said.

  ‘For now. But I would like the number for Mr Smith’s assistant.’

  Sharon reeled it off, and he made a note in his book.

  ‘Will you be there tomorrow? At the court I mean?’ asked Margaret.

  ‘I will,’ said Mahoney, standing up to leave.

  ‘We’ll see you then, then. I think you’d better go now. Will you telephone if you find anything out today?’

  ‘Of course.’

  She showed him to the front door, and then went back to Sharon and hugged her tightly. She could only imagine what Mahoney’s information would have done to her sister.

  19

  ‘We need to talk,’ Margaret said to Sharon.

  ‘I can’t. Not now. I’m all confused. Monty was a good man. Who would do such a thing? Who would hurt our family like this?’ her sister wailed.

  ‘I know he was, love. And that’s why it’s so important we find out what happened.’ said Margaret.

  ‘Leave that to the police.’

  ‘I am police. Well, you know what I mean.’

  ‘No Mags. You’ll get into trouble.’

  ‘I already am, sis.’

  ‘This is tiring me out, I can’t think straight. I’m going upstairs to the kids. Try and get some sleep. I think I better take a pill.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Margaret.

  Sharon walked out of the room, shoulders slumped, and Margaret felt such a wave of pity as she l
ooked at her inconsolable sister that she almost cried herself. Pull yourself together, she said to herself. No need for you to break down too. But instead she went out to her car and found a book of maps in the boot. Almost redundant now that the Boxster was fitted with Sat-Nav. She looked up Lovedean in the map and found it just off the A3 near the coast. She nodded, dumped the book back and went looking for Frankie and Roxie. ‘Sharon’s upstairs with the kids,’ she said. ‘The news has knocked her right back. She’s going to try and sleep. Take a pill.’

  ‘I still don’t get it,’ said Frankie, her face a mask.

  ‘Me neither,’ said Margaret. ‘But I’ve got a clue.’

  ‘What have you found?’ said Roxie.

  ‘I found a card in Monty’s jacket for a hotel down south. Could be where he was that night.’

  ‘So I don’t get it?’ came Roxie again.

  ‘I’d like to know who he was with that night, and why? Because if he did have his car tampered with, that means our beloved brother-in-law was into some seriously dodgy shit and I intend to find out what it was.’

  ‘Did you tell that copper about the business card?’ Roxie asked.

  Margaret shook her head.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because he treated me like some twat without a brain. And because I wanted to do a little digging of my own first.’

  ‘But he’s old bill. I thought you lot stuck together.’

  ‘Strictly speaking I’m not one of “you lot” at the moment. Anyway, I’m going to take a run down there. Shouldn’t take more than an hour.’

  ‘Less, if I drive,’ said Roxie.

  ‘You want to come?’

  ‘Try and stop me. It’s a nice day. Get the roof down and away we go.’

  ‘Frankie?’ said Margaret.

  ‘No. I’ll stay here with Sharon. I’m too old for adventures. Anyway, if she takes a pill someone should be here if the kids wake up.’

  ‘Course,’ said Roxie. ‘Never thought of that.’

  ‘Just being an auntie,’ came the smug reply.

  ‘I’m one too.’

  ‘And you’ll have plenty of time to practise I hope. You two go. I think you’re mad, and it will end in tears, but I know I can’t stop you,’ said Frankie warningly.

  ‘It already has,’ said Margaret. ‘Come on Rox, if you’re coming. No time to waste.’

  20

  Margaret went upstairs and got her jacket, and quickly popped her head in to check on Sharon and the children. All three were fast asleep in the double bed, and she crept away and down the stairs.

  Roxie meanwhile was wearing a sheepskin jacket that she’d found hanging in the hall. ‘She won’t mind me borrowing this I’m sure,’ she said as she slipped it on and admired herself in the mirror by the door. ‘They didn’t stint, did they,’ she said. This is five hundred quid’s worth if it’s a penny.’

  ‘Monty did well.’

  ‘Maybe he was doing too well,’ said Roxie. ‘If what you said was right.’

  Margaret just nodded in reply. She had her own ideas but didn’t want to share them just yet – not even with Roxie.

  They went out to Margaret’s car, and Roxie demanded the keys. ‘Are you sure?’ said Margaret.

  ‘Oh come on, you said I could,’ said Roxie, in the same cajoling tone that had always worked on the family when she was a little girl.

  Mags smiled to herself but said, ‘actually I didn’t, and you’re not insured.’

  ‘So we break a few laws. Where’s your sense of adventure girl?’

  ‘Sense of adventure or not, I’m still a copper.’

  ‘Who’s been suspended through no fault of her own. Come on sis…’

  Reluctantly Margaret handed over the car keys and Roxie jumped in and looked at the controls. ‘Piece of cake,’ she said. ‘How do you get the top down?’

  ‘Press that button.’

  The soft top slid back smoothly and Roxie started the engine. ‘Sweet,’ she said as she gave it some revs.

  ‘Come on, let’s get going before you wake them upstairs.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Roxie with a mischievous smile, as she slipped the gear lever into reverse and backed out of the drive.

  ‘Turn left at the end,’ said Margaret. ‘The A3’s a mile away.’

  ‘Can’t wait,’ said Roxie, as she shifted into first gear and shot off down the road. ‘A Thelma and Louise trip. What music have you got?’

  Margaret hit the button for the CD changer and her favourite album began to play.

  ‘Who’s that?’ said Roxie above the sound

  ‘Cowboy Junkies.’

  ‘Blimey. No wonder you’re on suspension.’

  ‘Funny.’

  ‘So what happened? I heard you shot someone.’

  ‘Dead right.’

  ‘But not dead?’

  ‘No,’ said Mags, shortly.

  ‘You’ll be OK then. Super-cop will get through this.’

  ‘Stop calling me that. Anyway, that Mahoney didn’t seem to think so.’

  ‘The copper? I had a peep when he left. A bit tasty eh?’

  ‘I didn’t notice.’

  ‘He noticed you though. I saw the look he gave you.’

  ‘Piss off.’

  ‘Come on, admit it. He was a bit of all right.’

  ‘If you say so,’ said Margaret, forcing herself not to smile at her irrepressible sister.

  ‘Come on Mags. Things can’t be so bad that you don’t notice a good-looking bloke.’

  ‘You’d be amazed. My boss got shot. I shot an unarmed man. My job looks like it could be all over. I might be up in court. And now this. I’ve no time to be checking out the talent.’

  ‘OK. Maybe things are that bad.’

  Mags looked at her. ‘Are you taking the piss?’

  ‘No. As a matter of fact, I know how you feel.’

  ‘You’re doing all right, aren’t you?’ said Mags, perplexed.

  ‘You’d be amazed. But I’ll tell you another time. Just let me drive, OK.’

  ‘OK.’

  They hit the slip road for the A3 and Roxie let the car have its head. ‘Nice,’ she said, the wind whipping her hair round her face.

  ‘You have heard of speed cameras haven’t you?’ said Margaret. ‘I don’t need a summons.’

  ‘Bright yellow things on poles, like this one coming up,’ Roxie laughed, but slowed down nevertheless. ‘See sis, no problem,’ as they passed it. ‘Now who did you shoot?’

  Margaret told her what had gone down, Utter’s death and her shooting of an unarmed man. Instead of the shock she had expected, Roxie said. ‘Shooting’s great though isn’t it. What a buzz.’

  ‘What do you know about shooting?’ asked Margaret.

  More than I can tell you, thought Roxie, remembering Tony’s body lying on the shop floor back in Spain. Wonder if they’ve found it yet. With the weather the way it had been, it would’ve gone off pretty quickly, and that would bring the neighbours nosing about. ‘Loads,’ she replied. ‘When I was on the cruise ships after I first left England, we used to go into the Gulf of Mexico, stopped off in New Orleans. Before the hurricane of course. Smashing place. I cried when I saw what happened on TV. Had some great nights there. Met a bloke. A real cowboy. Pick-up truck, alligator skin boots, check shirt, the whole nine yards. Looked like that geezer who sang Achy Breaky Heart, remember him? A real hunk. Crazy about guns. Had a load of them back at his shack. Well, actually it was a penthouse. He had money. Took me out on the range. Shooting range that is. Taught me to shoot. Made me wet I can tell you. Then one weekend we flew up to Vegas, and we went out machine gun shooting in the desert. Blowing up cars and all sorts. Made me even wetter if you know what I mean. After that, we hardly left the room the rest of the time we were there,’ said Roxie absent-mindedly, thinking back to those days.

  ‘Yuck, little sis. I don’t want to know – too much information,’ said Mags.

  ‘But fun,’ said Roxie as she dropped a gear and overtoo
k a truck.

  ‘Slow down,’ said Margaret. ‘This can’t be far from where Monty had the accident.’

  ‘You want to look?’

  ‘Someone should. I mean, someone who’s not the police.’

  ‘OK, but it’s a bit morbid.’

  ‘I’m feeling morbid.’

  ‘That’s why I wanted to get out of the house. It’s grim in there.’

  ‘What do you expect?’

  ‘I know. Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I was only little when Mum died but I remember how sad everyone was. It must have been as grim as this is.’

  Worse, thought Margaret, but said nothing. After they drove through Petersfield, Roxie kept to the speed limit, and on the crest of a hill they saw police tape blowing in the breeze on the opposite side of the road. ‘This must be it,’ said Margaret. ‘Pull over.’

  21

  Roxie bumped the Porsche up onto the verge and switched off the engine. Cars and lorries rushed by and shook the car. Margaret got out of the passenger side. ‘Coming?’ she asked.

  ‘No. I’ll just sit here and see if you’ve got any half-decent music in your collection.’

  ‘Cheeky cow. I won’t be long’

  Margaret waited for another break in the traffic and ran across the dual carriageway. She climbed the verge that was rutted with tyre tracks from whatever vehicle had pulled Monty’s car away from the scene, and the transporter that had taken the car to the police garage. The fence and hedge that had grown around it was broken and there were deep scars on the grass beyond. She jumped down through the gap, cursing her stupid decision to wear high-heeled boots and walked across the small field to the tree line. There she found a tree where the bark was ripped and torn. She stood for a moment, the only sounds coming from the whooshing of the cars on the road behind her. Damn them, she thought. Whoever did this. She had never been particularly fond of Monty, but as her sisters always said, she had never been particularly fond of many people. That was one of the reasons she had joined the police. She had no pity for the people she had banged up, but sometimes she found solace in the care she could take of the victims.