The Lipstick Killers

by Lee Martin

  Once back at the house, she left Thomas locked inside her car, hoping that he wouldn’t tear her upholstery to shreds, and went to the kitchen where her three sisters were sitting around the table. Frankie saw the look on her face as soon as she walked in. ‘What now?’ she asked.

  ‘This is not easy,’ said Margaret slumping into an empty chair.

  ‘What? Just spit it out sis,’ said Frankie again.

  ‘It’s Joyce,’ replied Margaret. ‘She’s dead.’

  The colour left the faces of the other three. ‘Are you serious?’ said Roxie.

  ‘It’s not something I’d joke about.’

  ‘How?’ Sharon asked.

  ‘Murdered. In her bedroom.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Dunno. That’s for the experts. By the look of her, maybe last night.’

  Sharon moaned, got up, and slumped down deeply in her chair. ‘How the hell am I going to tell the children? They loved her like a grandmother.’

  Margaret sighed deeply. ‘I don’t know love. This is just about as bad as I’ve ever seen it.’

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ said Roxie, suddenly seeming very young and very scared.

  34

  Margaret literally slapped herself on the forehead. ‘Christ,’ she said. ‘You’re right. What am I thinking of?’ Quickly, she grabbed her phone from her handbag and called Mahoney again. ‘Mahoney,’ she said, when he answered. ‘I think we need some protection at the house, after all that’s happened.’

  ‘Go to the front door,’ he said.

  She did as she was told. Outside the house was a blue Mondeo with two up in the front. ‘See them,’ said Mahoney.

  ‘I see them.’

  ‘24/7 until this is over,’ he said. ‘But I think perhaps Mrs Smith and the children would be safer somewhere else. Is there anywhere they can stay?’

  ‘I suppose. Do you think they’re in danger?’

  ‘You obviously do.’

  ‘Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking aloud. There’s Frankie’s house, they could go there.’

  ‘I was thinking about somewhere out of town,’ he answered.

  ‘You’re right. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.’

  ‘We do have safe houses.’

  ‘They’re always horrible. At least they are if they’re anything like the Met’s.’

  ‘Budget. It was hard enough getting manpower to baby-sit you lot, believe me.’

  ‘I do. And thanks,’ said Margaret, a note of gratitude entering her voice.

  ‘Listen, I’ve got to go,’ he said. ‘Duty calls. See you later?’

  ‘Sure. Bye.’ She closed her phone, waved at the two coppers and went back inside.

  ‘We’ve got minders,’ she said to her sisters. ‘For the duration. But Mahoney thinks Sharon and the kids should get away. Somewhere safe.’

  ‘We are in danger,’ said Sharon, looking horrified. ‘My God.’

  ‘We don’t know it’s anything to do with Monty’s death,’ interjected Frankie.

  ‘No, we don’t know for certain, but we have to be careful. Why would someone kill Joyce?’ She turned again to Sharon. ‘Calm down love,’ said Margaret. ‘A safe house might be for the best. How about Monty’s mum’s?’

  ‘She’s not well, you know that. That’s why she’s not here.’

  ‘Might do her good to see you though.’

  ‘I suppose. But what about the funeral?’

  ‘Funerals,’ said Frankie. ‘There’s no one to take care of Joyce’s. We owe her.’

  ‘God, yes,’ said Margaret.

  ‘We’ll have a double funeral,’ said Sharon.

  ‘It might take time for them to release both bodies,’ said Margaret.

  Silence fell in the room as the four women took in the magnitude of what had happened.

  Finally Roxie broke the silence. ‘You’re getting pally with Mahoney,’ she said to Margaret.

  ‘Police business,’ replied Margaret. ‘And I’m meeting him later.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Information. He’s got it, we need it. Plus I’ve got to give a statement about finding Joyce. We’re going for a drink.’

  ‘Told you,’ said Roxie. ‘Told you they’d get friendly.’

  ‘Do be quiet,’ said Margaret. ‘He’s useful. And he has got us our protection.’

  ‘What happened to Thomas?’ Frankie asked suddenly.

  ‘Oh Christ,’ said Margaret. ‘He’s in the car. Probably tearing my upholstery to shreds. I couldn’t leave him with all those hairy-arsed coppers milling about at Joyce’s. He’d have done a runner. And we’ve lost too much already.’

  ‘He can stay with us,’ said Sharon. ‘The kids always wanted a pet and it might take their minds off what’s happening. And Joyce loved that moggy. We owe it to her. When will we have to move and where will we go?’

  ‘I don’t know when, but we should find something fast. There’s safe houses,’ said Margaret. ‘If nothing else.’

  ‘I’ll call Monty’s mum. You might be right. Do us all a power of good to get away.’

  ‘That’s my girl,’ said Margaret, pleased that Sharon had finally started to come out of her dark depression, but still her mind was fixed on the sight of Joyce on her bed. Who would have done such a thing – and would they target her family next?

  35

  In fact, Thomas was curled up fast asleep on the driver’s seat when Margaret went to fetch him. On the way back to the house she’d stopped at Tesco and bought food, kitty litter, a tray and food bowls for the animal. Bleeding hell she thought, this moggy’s going to cost us a fortune – all the while knowing that she would never have left him, for Joyce’s sake. She smiled at the two coppers still guarding the place, grabbed Thomas and took him inside. Peter and Susan had come downstairs and were delighted to see the cat, immediately fussing around him. ‘What did you tell them?’ Margaret whispered to Sharon. ‘About Joyce I mean.’

  ‘That Aunty Joyce has gone away for a bit. I didn’t want any more tears before bedtime.’

  ‘Best thing,’ said Margaret.

  At half five Margaret was ready for her meet with Mahoney. ‘Have fun,’ grinned Roxie as she left. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.’

  ‘Leave it out,’ said Margaret, smiling in spite of herself.

  ‘We still on for London tomorrow?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Mags. ‘I need to pick some stuff up from the flat first.’

  ‘Well don’t be late back then, we should get going early’

  ‘A drink,’ sighed Margaret, ‘that’s all it is. Intelligence gathering. I’ll be back before you know it.’

  Roxie just waved, cheekily.

  Mahoney was already at the pub when Margaret parked up, sitting outside at a table by the water’s edge – a pint in front of him and a cigarette burning between his fingers. ‘Didn’t know you smoked,’ said Margaret as she joined him at the wooden table.

  ‘On and off. I’m just a social smoker. What are you drinking?’

  ‘White wine,’ she replied, and he stubbed out the cigarette and went into the pub.

  When he got back and she had her drink, he said. ‘Who’d’ve guessed it would happen. Can’t even have a fag at the bar these days.’

  ‘Not like the old days in the CID,’ said Margaret. ‘Smoke so thick you couldn’t see across the room.’

  ‘Happy days.’

  ‘You don’t look happy.’

  ‘I’m not. This is a major case now. DCI involved. Super on the prowl. All the way up to the Chief Constable. We don’t have that many murders in Guildford. Not this kind anyway. Some stupid kid with a knife stabs another stupid kid in a row over a DVD, and the little sod bleeds to death. Or some fisty husband going too far. Nothing like this. I’m no longer in charge. Just another face in the crowd from now on.’

  ‘I doubt you’d ever be just a face in the crowd Mahoney.’

  ‘Michael. Mike. And are you flirting with me?’

  ‘Don’t
know. It’s been ages since I’ve had a good flirt.’

  ‘Me too,’ he said, looking at her with a half smile.

  ‘No Mrs Mike then?’

  ‘No. Nor likely to be. No girlfriend. In fact I’ve only been in Guildford for a few months. Transferred from Aldershot.’

  ‘That must have been fun. All that time busting squaddies.’

  ‘That’s about right.’

  Margaret decided to get down to business. They were getting off the subject, pleasant though it was. ‘When do you want my statement?’ she asked. ‘About finding Joyce.’

  ‘Tomorrow morning. I’ve got an early meet with the DCI. Just passing stuff on so it should be over by nine.’

  ‘Nine it is.’

  ‘You know where the station is?’

  ‘What do you think?’ she said. ‘Okay, enough small talk, let’s get down to it. Tell me. Who’s Haywood?’

  Mahoney looked surprised and lit another cigarette before answering her question. ‘What do you know about him?’

  ‘Nothing. Just a name. And what about Antarctic Investments?’

  ‘You have been doing your homework. Why do you want to know all this?’

  ‘I’m a copper, remember? Just names to me too.’

  ‘I’m interested. Fancy something to eat? There’s a decent Chinese by the bridge.’

  ‘Why not? I’ve got nothing else to do.’

  ‘I’ve heard more enthusiasm, but never mind. Drink up then, and we’ll go.’

  36

  Once seated in the restaurant with a bottle of wine and food ordered, Mahoney turned to Mags. ‘You’re determined to stick your nose into this aren’t you? Nothing I can say will convince you?’

  ‘Wouldn’t you? Considering what’s happened.’

  ‘Probably. But you don’t know what you’re getting into.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘I shouldn’t be telling you anything. You’re on suspension. And you’re too close to this case.’

  ‘Come on Mahoney. Shit or get off the pot.’

  ‘It’s Mike, and you coppers from the Met certainly have a turn of phrase.’

  ‘You ain’t heard nothing yet. Come on, Mike. You know I’ll find out one way or another so let’s just get on with it shall we? The only thing I want to know is who wants to hurt my family like this?’

  ‘So I imagine. OK, it’s early days yet and all we have to go on is Mr Smith’s palm top and a load of papers strewn around his office. I’ve got a DC on them, but so far they seem just to refer to the tax returns of half of Guildford’s wealthy self employed. Architects, actors, singers, you know the sort.’

  ‘I can’t see a local architects cutting Joyce’s throat over some overpaid tax, can you?’

  He shook his head as the waiter delivered their starters. ‘No. How long had Mr Smith been in business here?’

  ‘Fifteen years, give or take.’

  ‘Nice house, nice cars, kids at private school. He didn’t get that sort of lifestyle sorting out punters earning the average wage did he?’

  ‘I never thought about it.’

  ‘Didn’t you?’

  ‘No. Straight up. Monty was dedicated to his family as far as I knew. And besides I was up in London. I visited for birthdays and sometimes Christmas, but I had a different kind of life from them. You know what it’s like in CID. You’re married to the job.’

  ‘Someone’s going to need to talk to your sister soon.’

  ‘She thought she might take the kids to Monty’s mother’s place for a bit.’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘Norfolk.’

  ‘Good idea, but she’ll need to be interviewed first.’

  ‘Take it easy with her, will you? She’s vulnerable.’

  ‘Might not be me. Female officer probably. We’re not totally heartless.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’

  They dug into the food and the evening passed effortlessly.

  When they were finishing their after-dinner coffees, Margaret said, ‘Listen, I’m going up to London tomorrow after I’ve given you my statement. I’ll be honest. I’m going to do some digging around.’

  Mahoney shook his head. ‘I don’t like it, but I suppose I can’t stop you.’

  ‘No you can’t. You’re lucky that I even told you that.’

  ‘Just promise me you’ll be careful, and if you turn anything up please ring me immediately,’ said Mahoney, looking worried.

  ‘So you do have some faith in me?’

  ‘That’s right. But what I’ve heard about you tells me you just might pull something out of the bag.’ ‘Which wouldn’t do your career any harm if I did – and happened to tell you all about it. But remember Mike, one hand washes the other. A favour for a favour.’

  ‘You can trust me, I hope you know that.’

  ‘Now, it’s been a lovely evening. Especially after what I saw today. But it’s time for bed.’

  Mahoney raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Alone. Do you want to split the bill?’

  ‘No, this is on me. You can pay next time.’

  ‘If there is a next time,’ she said, raising one eyebrow.

  ‘Here’s hoping then,’ he said, and gestured to the waiter.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ said Margaret. ‘See you in the morning.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

  Margaret got up, collected her things and shook his hand. ‘Drive carefully,’ he said. ‘And remember what I said, these people don’t care who they hurt,’ he said as she turned to leave.

  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ said Margaret, ‘I’m a Doyle, and we look after our own.’

  37

  When Margaret got back to the house, a different car with two passengers was parked across the street. She nodded to the new police guards and went inside, where Roxie was waiting up for her, watching TV in the living room. ‘Dirty stop out,’ she said by way of a greeting.

  ‘Are you my mother now?’ asked Margaret.

  ‘More like Frankie. Mum never had a chance to wait up for us, did she?’

  ‘Sorry love, I didn’t think.’

  ‘Don’t matter,’ said Roxie, brightening up. ‘So, how did your date go?’

  ‘It wasn’t a date,’ said her sister, but avoiding her eyes by making a show of hanging up her coat and rustling through her bag.

  ‘Just a drink, yeah?’ She looked at her watch. ‘So what time do you call this?’

  Margaret laughed at her mock-serious tone, and impulsively went over and embraced her sister. ‘Thought I’d wait up for you,’ said Roxie. ‘London, tomorrow. Right?’

  Margaret nodded.

  ‘I’ll kip on the sofa. Don’t want to disturb Frankie by going back to hers.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yep. I’ve slept on a lot less comfortable in my time. And besides, we’ve got protection. Makes me feel all secure, knowing that there’s two beefy blokes sitting outside to protect us. I told Frankie she should stay too, but you know her. Said we had to live our lives.’

  ‘Listen Roxie,’ said Margaret, suddenly serious. ‘This thing could get nasty. Extremely nasty. What someone did to Joyce…’ She didn’t finish.

  ‘I can cope,’ said Roxie. ‘You think opening a business on the Costa del Crime is a piece of cake? A woman on her own. I’ve had my share of hard visitors looking for a slice of the cake, and some of them wouldn’t take no for an answer.’ She wondered if this was the time to tell Margaret everything, but hesitated again.

  Margaret shook her head. ‘Dolly, what have you been up to? I never realised,’ she said.

  ‘You weren’t supposed to. None of you. But for a while I was sleeping with a shotgun under the bed.’ And a Derringer in the cash drawer, she thought.

  ‘Blimey!’

  ‘Blimey’s right. Now listen. It’s getting late, we should both get to bed. This film is crap, and I need some sleep if we’re going to take on the world – and shopping on Oxford street.’

  38r />
  Margaret was up before anyone else and woke Roxie with a cup of tea. ‘I’m going off to give my statement to Mahoney about finding Joyce,’ she said, as her sister sat up in bed, honey-blonde hair sitting in a halo above her head. ‘Then we’ll go to London.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll get dressed. Thanks for the tea, sis,’ said Roxie, in a voice fuzzy with sleep.

  The two left the house before Sharon and the children came down,Margaret leaving a note on the kitchen table to tell them they’d be back in the afternoon. She drove down to the police station and left Roxie in the car in the visitor’s parking area. ‘I won’t be long,’ she said.

  ‘Give him a kiss for me,’ said Roxie, already fiddling with the tuner for the radio.

  Margaret just sighed in exasperation.

  She went to the front desk and asked for Mahoney, who came down a few minutes later and took her to an empty office. She recounted the story of finding Joyce’s body and he transcribed it onto a computer, printed it out and passed it over so she could sign the bottom of the page. ‘What now?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m off to London with Roxie to pick up a few things and have a scout round.’

  ‘Remember – be careful.’

  ‘I’ll be okay, but thanks for your concern.’

  ‘Let me know what you find if anything,’ he said.

  She nodded in reply and got up to leave, but before she left asked him, ‘Anything yet on Joyce’s murder?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he replied.

  ‘You will let me know? A favour for a favour, remember?’

  ‘I remember, and I will.’

  ‘You’ve got my number. Just call me and I’ll be there.’

  ‘Thanks Mahoney – Mike,’ she smiled at him and left the way she’d come in.

  39

  Roxie and Mags headed up the A3 through the late rush hour and managed to arrive in Battersea before eleven. Margaret parked up in a resident’s bay and they went to her flat. ‘Nice digs,’ said Roxie when they got inside.