The Lipstick Killers

by Lee Martin

‘That’s not all,’ said Roxie.

  ‘There’s more? God you have been busy little sis…’

  ‘That’s not the half of it. I went to Spain, opened the salon. I had a bit of money, borrowed the rest from a ‘friend,’ if you know what I mean. Cash was easy come, easy go on the Costa in those days. I hooked up with another bloke. Tony. I knew him from my days in the club scene in London. Bit of a dangerous bloke – finger in a lot of pies.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He was a bastard. A bit handy if you know what I mean.’

  ‘I know exactly what you mean,’ said Mags.

  ‘We split up and the business went down the pan. I told you about sleeping with a shotgun under the bed? Well, I had another gun too. Before I came back to the UK, Tony came looking for some money he said I owed him. He conveniently forgot that most of it went on bubbles and Charlie for the two of us, living the high life. He threatened me with a knife. Said he was going to rape and then kill me if I didn’t pay up, so I shot the fucker.’

  ‘Classic self-defence Dolly. I would have done the same in your situation.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’ve had trouble with the police in Spain too. There were some dodgy cheques I cashed for dodgy people so I tried to stay out of their way. Couldn’t exactly go crying to them now.’

  ‘But even so…’

  ‘I took him out the morning I got the call about Monty. I couldn’t hang about. I knew I’d end up in some stinking jail so I dumped the gun and headed here.’

  ‘So you’re wanted?’

  ‘Expect so. The temperature was pushing thirty degrees. Someone was sure to find the body before long.’

  ‘Jesus, Roxie.’

  ‘So you see, I don’t give a toss either. I’m in this with you Mags – whatever happens. Unless of course you want to turn me in.’

  ‘What do you reckon, Dolly?’

  The two sisters hugged again as the machines beside Sharon’s bed bleeped on.

  57

  When Margaret and Roxie woke up the next morning they were still in the hard plastic chairs next to Sharon’s bed. Hearing the sound of breakfasts being served in the other wards, they both realised they were starving and asked the Irish nurse on duty if they could get some breakfast themselves, or at least some coffee. She pointed them in the direction of the canteen on the ground floor, and promised to find them if Sharon’s circumstances changed, although she didn’t seem too optimistic. ‘When this sort of thing happens, I’ve seen people sleep for days. It’s the body’s way of healing itself,’ she said. ‘But don’t worry, I won’t be far, and I’ll keep a close eye on your sister,’ she said in a kindly tone.

  The two sisters took the lift downstairs, and both bought cooked breakfasts from the canteen. ‘I feel rotten, stuffing myself when Sharon’s upstairs like that,’ said Roxie.

  ‘We need to eat,’ said Margaret. ‘We need to be strong. Starving ourselves won’t help.’

  Roxie nodded agreement, and they found an empty table and sat down.

  They’d finished their meals quickly and Margaret said, ‘I need a cigarette.’

  ‘So do I.’

  ‘You don’t even smoke sis!’

  ‘I’m thinking about taking it up. I’m as nervous as hell about all of this. What if I can’t get this St Cyr bloke to believe me?’

  ‘What you? The scourge of clubland. I thought pulling blokes was one of your great talents and you’re a good little actress. Remember all those times that you convinced Dad you were tucked up in bed when you were actually out drinking cider in the park with the bad lads from school?’

  ‘It is true, I can usually get my way with blokes. But not in order to kidnap them. At least – not often.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Margaret. ‘Let’s go outside for a minute. Get some fresh air.’

  ‘And some smoke.’

  ‘That too.’

  They went out of the front door and both lit up. It was a beautiful morning, but the fine weather did little to cheer them up.

  As they finished their cigarettes, Margaret recognised Mahoney’s car as it sped into the car park in front of them. He jumped out and ran towards them, unshaven, his hair sticking up in all directions.

  ‘Isn’t he sweet,’ said Roxie. ‘All warm from his bed. Look at what you’re missing,’ she said, grinning.

  ‘Shut up.’

  Mahoney slid to a halt in front of them. ‘Jesus, I just heard,’ he said. ‘What happened?’

  ‘She OD’d on sleepers,’ said Margaret. ‘She’s sleeping in the ward upstairs.’

  ‘Do you think she did it on purpose?’ said Mahoney.

  ‘Who knows. She didn’t leave a note.’

  ‘Christ. Could this get much worse?’

  Neither of the women replied.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Mahoney.

  ‘Always sorry,’ said Margaret. ‘Come on, let’s get upstairs.’

  58

  The three of them got in the lift and went back upstairs to the side ward, where things had got worse. Much worse. Sharon’s bed was empty, and the machines were dead. ‘No,’ said Roxie, her face crumpling.

  As they went outside into the corridor, the Irish nurse they’d seen earlier ran up, Doctor Ramsey just behind her. ‘We tried to find you,’ the nurse said. ‘We had you paged.’

  ‘We were outside,’ said Margaret. ‘Just for a minute.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said the doctor. ‘She crashed. We did what we could…’

  ‘You mean…’ said Margaret, her words trailing off as she realised what had happened.

  ‘Your sister died a few minutes ago of a coronary. There was nothing we could do,’ said the doctor in a hushed tone.

  Roxie let out an anguished wail and Margaret had to grab her to stop her from collapsing.

  ‘We tried to resuscitate,’ said the doctor. ‘Her body couldn’t take it.’

  ‘But so quickly?’ said Margaret, disbelievingly. ‘We were just here?’

  The doctor made a gesture of defeat. ‘It just happened. Nurse was there at her bedside. She called a code immediately. There was nothing more we could have done.’

  Margaret and Roxie just stood there in the hallway, their arms around each other, the sound of Roxie’s sobs filling the air. Mahoney stood behind them, hopping from foot to foot in frustration.

  ‘Would you like to see her?’ asked the doctor. ‘Before we take her downstairs.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Margaret holding onto her sister tightly.

  They followed the doctor into a sterile room down the corridor where Sharon’s body lay on a gurney. Mahoney stayed outside, his face grey.

  Both the women kissed their sister’s face which was already beginning to cool. ‘How are we going to tell Frankie and the kids? They’ve just lost their dad – now they’re orphans?’ asked Roxie.

  ‘We’ll manage,’ said Margaret, her face set with determination. ‘Between us, we’ll cope.’

  59

  They went back outside to where Mahoney was waiting. ‘Where’s this cottage?’ asked Margaret. ‘We need to get there now.’

  ‘Not far,’ replied Mahoney. ‘Maybe twenty minutes. But it’s a bit hard to find. I’ll drive you if you like.’

  ‘No, I’ve got my car,’ said Margaret. ‘You lead the way, we’ll follow.’

  ‘OK. For what’s it worth, I am really sorry to hear about Sharon. This case has claimed too many lives already.’

  They found the doctor and told him they were leaving to break the news to the rest of the family. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘And once again you have our profound sympathy.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Margaret. Roxie could only nod, her face swollen from crying.

  The three went down to the car park where Roxie joined Margaret in the Porsche. Mahoney pulled out in front of them and headed away from Guildford with Margaret following close behind. Roxie dabbed at her eyes. ‘This is going to be hard,’ she said.

  ‘I know,’ replied Margaret. ‘Those poor kids.’


  ‘What will happen to them?’

  ‘I suppose Frankie will look after them. There’s no way our niece and nephew are going into care. But it’ll be hard on her.’

  ‘She’s a natural mother, she’ll be okay. I just hope we’re around to lend a hand,’ said Roxie, turning to look at Mags.

  ‘It’s not too late to just forget all about Haywood,’ said Margaret.

  ‘You’re kidding. Sharon’s dead because of him. Even more reason to see that fucker gets what he deserves.’

  ‘If we’re right,’ said Mags, a faint tone of uncertainty entering her voice.

  ‘I thought you were sure. Copper’s instinct.’

  ‘I don’t know what I am right now.’

  ‘Listen. This is no time for second thoughts. You’re the one wanted a hundred percent. Right?’

  ‘Right,’ said Mags.

  ‘We know they’re at it. And it could only have been them that killed Monty and Joyce.’

  ‘But we don’t have any hard evidence,’ Mags hated to voice her fears but she needed reassurance.

  ‘So what? We know. We don’t need hard evidence. Only to get one of them to crack. What would Mum have done? Waited for hard evidence? I don’t think so. She worked on instinct. You must’ve done too to get as far as you did in your job.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Mags. ‘You’re right. And you’re more like Mum than any of us. Sorry. Bottle went a bit there.’

  ‘I understand sis. So when do we do it?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘OK, tomorrow it is,’ said Roxie looking through the windscreen at the back of Mahoney’s car. ‘He really likes you, you know. So do something about it.’

  ‘No time.’

  ‘There’s one more night – tonight. If the last few days have taught us anything, it’s that you’ve got to grab life in both hands. Just go for it Mags. What have you got to lose?’

  60

  Mahoney led them off the A3 close to Guildford, then onto a number of minor roads. They weaved through a couple of small villages, then onto a bumpy track through a wood just big enough for one car, that opened up onto a turnaround with a small cottage at one end. They recognised Frankie’s car but not the other plain, dark saloon parked outside.

  They got out of the Porsche and the air was silent except for the rustling of the leaves of the trees. ‘Idyllic,’ said Roxie. ‘Ain’t that the word?’

  ‘Not when we break the news,’ said Margaret. ‘I’m not looking forward to this.’

  ‘Me neither,’ said Roxie, her eyes welling up again.

  They walked together to Mahoney’s car and he wound down the window. ‘Want me to come in?’ he asked Margaret.

  ‘No. This is our job.’

  ‘I’ll be going then.’

  ‘No. I need to speak to you. Don’t go. Please.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Mahoney. ‘I’ll park up over there.’

  ‘I may be a while inside.’

  ‘Of course. There’s no hurry. Take as much time as you need.’

  As Margaret stepped away from the car the door to the cottage opened and Frankie walked down the short path to the gate. Margaret took Roxie’s arm and they joined her. Frankie was white faced and her eyes were swollen. ‘Don’t tell me,’ she said. ‘I can see by the look on your faces.’

  ‘It’s bad news,’ said Margaret, softly.

  ‘When isn’t it, lately?’

  ‘There’s no way to make this easy,’ said Margaret. ‘Sharon died an hour ago.’

  Frankie grabbed hold of the gate and she closed her eyes. ‘What have we done to deserve this?’ she said with a voice they hardly recognised. ‘What? Why is this happening to us?’

  ‘We’ve done nothing,’ said Roxie. ‘This is no time for blame. Those two inside need us now more than ever.’

  ‘How are we going to tell them?’ said Frankie, her voice thick with tears.

  ‘The three of us will,’ said Margaret. ‘Together.’

  61

  Peter and Susan were cuddled up to the policewoman on the sofa in the cottage’s tiny living room when the three sisters got inside. ‘Can we have a moment alone?’ asked Margaret.

  The police woman nodded and left the room. Margaret, Roxie and Frankie went to the children at the sofa, Roxie and Frankie sitting either side of the children, their arms around them. Margaret said, ‘Peter, Susan, I’m afraid I’ve got bad news.’

  ‘Where’s mummy?’ asked Susan.

  ‘Mummy’s in heaven with daddy,’ said Roxie. ‘I’m so sorry, my darlings.’

  The two children looked at each other with expressions of disbelief, their faces quickly contorting with sobs. ‘No,’ said Peter. ‘She said she’d look after us.’

  ‘I’m going to look after you now,’ said Frankie, and she gathered them into her arms. ‘Me, and Auntie Roxie and Auntie Mags. Aren’t we?’ she said looking at the other two. ‘We’ll always be here for you.’

  Both nodded, and Frankie pulled Susan onto her knee as Margaret took Peter in her arms. All five sat together in silence, broken only by the children’s long anguished sobs. They stayed together until both Peter and Susan fell asleep from exhaustion. ‘I’m going to take them home,’ said Frankie. ‘This place gives me the creeps.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Margaret.

  ‘Why not? Monty, Joyce and Sharon are all gone now. What more can these people – whoever they are – do to us now? They would never hurt the children. You know Monty, he was a good man. He would never have got mixed up in anything too bad.’

  Margaret looked at Roxie. ‘We don’t know what he was involved in. But three people are dead,’ she said. ‘I think you’d be safer here for the time being.’

  ‘Okay. Whatever you think is best,’ said Frankie, her voice flat.

  ‘I’ll stay too,’ said Roxie. ‘Margaret needs to see that copper Mahoney tonight to catch up with what’s going on.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Frankie.

  ‘He’s waiting for me outside,’ said Margaret. ‘I’d better go and see him.’

  She carefully extracted herself from her sleeping nephew and went outside where Mahoney was talking to the female officer.

  She moved away from the car when she saw Margaret. ‘I’m sorry about your sister,’ she said. ‘She was a nice woman.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Margaret. ‘And thanks for being here and calling the ambulance.’

  ‘Just doing my job. They were very quick, if that’s any consolation.’

  ‘Some.’ Margaret nodded at Mahoney’s car. ‘I just need to speak to him for a minute.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll go and make some tea. That’s all you can do at a time like this. How are Peter and Susan holding up?’

  ‘As to be expected,’ said Margaret. ‘Orphaned in less than a week. They’re exhausted.’

  When the woman left, Margaret joined Mahoney in his car. ‘I owe you dinner,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t worry about that.’

  ‘I’m not worrying, but I do owe you dinner,’ she repeated.

  ‘Fine. We’ll make a date,’ Mahoney said.

  ‘Tonight.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘It has to be tonight,’ said Margaret, her tone a little more forceful.

  ‘Well, if you insist. I’d like that. Shall we go to the Chinese place again?’

  ‘How about a take-out at your place?’

  Mahoney’s brow furrowed. ‘Is that a good idea?’ he asked. ‘Today of all days… Wouldn’t you rather be with your family?’

  ‘We need to talk, and it would be best out of earshot,’ she said, decidedly.

  ‘Give me your address.’

  Mahoney wrote it on a piece of paper from his note book. ‘It’s just outside the…’

  ‘I’ll find it,’ said Margaret, cutting him off mid-flow. ‘Seven do you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And thanks for waiting for me.’ ‘No problem.’

  ‘And for Christ’s sake have a shave,’ said Mar
garet, grinning slightly.

  ‘Whatever you say,’ Mahoney replied, returning her half smile.

  Without another word Margaret opened the passenger door, got out of the car and went back into the cottage.

  62

  Margaret and her sisters spent another bleak day consoling each other and Sharon’s children. The mood in the cottage was grim. Peter and Susan didn’t understand what was happening. How could they? One day they were a happy family doing the sort of things that happy families did. The next they were orphans. The three women were as bereft as the children, but tried not to show it with little success, although they were careful not to cry in front of them. Around four Margaret left and went back to Sharon’s empty house. She could hardly bear to be there surrounded by family pictures from happier times but she needed some time alone, plus time to get ready to see Mahoney. She felt guilty about leaving the family, but there was little that she could do for them at the moment. She told Roxie she’d collect her the next morning. ‘Have fun,’ she said as Margaret left, her face puffy from crying but her eyes twinkling slightly as she spoke.

  ‘I don’t know if I should go,’ said Mags, suddenly unsure.

  ‘Course you should. Remember what I said – life’s too short. I’ll hold the fort here.’

  Margaret considered what she was wearing when she got to her room. Jumper and trousers. Not exactly an outfit to drive men wild, she thought. But she had nothing better and could hardly touch anything of Sharon’s under the circumstances. Then she saw the bag of clothes that Roxie had brought with her. What the hell, she thought, let’s see what little sister has stashed away.

  She opened the bag and found a selection of clothes. She passed on the thongs. So last year Roxie, she thought, but found some lacy shorts-style knickers with a matching bra, a tight pencil skirt and a silk blouse. She tried them on and they fitted perfectly. Still the same size, sis, she thought. Not bad for five years older than you.

  She left her legs bare and slipped into her high heeled ankle boots, laid on some slap and felt ready for anything. Mahoney, you don’t know what you’re in for, she thought as she brushed her hair. She left the house about six-thirty and sped off in her Porsche for Mahoney’s house.