The Lipstick Killers

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.
    And now her own sister was a widow and her niece and nephew had been left without a dad. Maybe she could help them find some peace of mind by discovering what had gone on the night that Monty had seemingly been sent to his death.
    She lit a cigarette that she found in her pocket and swore there and then to do exactly what needed doing – whatever trouble it brought to her door. Turning, she made her way back to the road where she stamped out the cigarette butt and ran back to the car. ‘Come on then,’ she said to Roxy, who was listening to some godawful house music on the car radio. ‘Let’s go and see what we can see.’

22
     
     
     
    When Margaret left the car, Roxie turned the music down, sat back, and let the sun warm her face. She had no desire to see the scene. Talking about shooting had brought back more memories. Memories of that time in America. She hadn’t told Margaret the whole story. Far from it. More lies. It seemed her whole life had been a lie. She’d met the bloke all right. And he did have money. At first he’d told her it was a legacy – a trust fund, and she’d believed him. She’d been younger then, and more trusting of men. That was another problem. Men. She had always attracted the wrong sort, and been attracted to them in her turn. This one had been called Chase. And he had looked like the Achy Breaky Heart bloke. Tall, muscular, handsome, wearing a checked shirt cut to show his ripped arm muscles, he drove the biggest, fastest, most ostentatious red pick-up truck she’d ever seen. He’d picked her up in a bar in the French quarter of New Orleans one boiling hot night, when she was dizzy from the smell of exotic flowers and spicy gumbo coming from the restaurants on the street, combined with cigar smoke and the heady perfumes worn by the beautiful women packing the pavements. The sights and sounds combined with the lethal cocktails she’d been drinking since the boat docked made her head swim. But in a good way, so when handsome Chase sidled up, cut her out from the other crew members, and took her to another bar, darker, more scary, she didn’t care.
    Then, he took her for a drive through the back roads of Louisiana, speeding through the black night with the headlamps off, smoking dope, and occasionally stopping for a line of cocaine. Then back to the city to his penthouse in an apartment block by the river. More drinks, more drugs, then wild sex that lasted so long she literally missed the boat.
    But Roxie didn’t care. By then she was in love. There was cash everywhere, and she put it down to Chase’s parents keeping him topped up. Chase took her out to a firing range and taught