The Lipstick Killers

said. ‘Miles away.’
    ‘Is something wrong?’ asked Margaret.
    ‘Not really.’
    ‘Not my business?’
    ‘Don’t be daft. Just things. What did you see over there? Anything useful?’
    ‘No. Just the crash site. Not a nice thing, but I needed to see it.’
    ‘Once a copper eh?’
    ‘Something like that.’
    Margaret took out the card from the hotel, leant over and punched the post code into the Sat-Nav. ‘Used one of these before?’ she asked.
    ‘Course,’ said Roxie. ‘I live in Spain, not on Mars. We do have them there.’
    ‘OK, clever clogs,’ said Margaret.
    ‘That’s what we used to call you,’ said Roxie. ‘When we were kids.’
    ‘Not very clever now, am I? No job prospects, no man. No kids.’
    ‘There’s always Mahoney,’ said Roxie with a grin.
    ‘Bollocks.’
    ‘Anyway, you’re not alone,’ said Roxie. ‘Not on the man and kids front anyway. Look at the four of us – only two kids between us.’
    ‘Yeah. You would’ve thought Frankie would have had a brood by now. A natural mum.’
    ‘She does have a brood. All of us. It’s just as well really, you remember how much of a bastard Foster turned out to be, smacking her round and drinking all the time. Good job that marriage didn’t last very long. Christ only knows what monsters any kids of his would have been.’
    ‘You’re right,’ said Margaret. ‘I could never work out what she saw in that arsehole.’
    ‘You’re not the only one. Shame she never found anyone else though. She’s got so much love to give.’
    ‘Enough of that. You’ll have me in tears. Let’s go.’
    Roxie started up the car, waited for a gap in the traffic and headed off. ‘So what’s our story for the hotel?’
    ‘Engagement dinner I reckon,’ replied Margaret. ‘Half a dozen girls out on the razz. Business women letting their hair down, lots of food and wine. We’ve heard that it’s a decent place and we’ve got cash to spend. Course it might just be a B&B, but I doubt it. The card’s all embossed and copper plate and I’m guessing the people that Monty worked for wouldn’t slum it in some poxy venue. Just follow my lead. We’ll busk it.’
    ‘One problem though’ said Roxie. ‘Neither of us has a ring on.’
    Mags sighed. ‘Then keep your bloody hands in your pockets.’
    ‘OK. Just one other thing. Your boots are covered in mud. Doesn’t look too clever if you know what I mean. Especially if it is posh, and we’re supposed to be,’ said Roxie smugly.
    ‘Yeah thanks sis. I’ve got some wet wipes in my bag so I’ll clean them when we get there. Since when did you turn into the fashion police, anyway?’
    ‘Just trying to help,’ said Roxie with a giggle.
    They drove down the A3 until the Sat-Nav directed them off to a roundabout under a flyover, and then onto b-roads until they passed Lovedean itself, a picturesque village that could have doubled as the location for some TV series set before World War 2. A mile or so later they arrived at a pair of large ornate gates which led onto a driveway of an imposing old house set in manicured lawns. ‘I thought so,’ said Margaret. ‘A country house hotel. All the rage fifteen years ago.’
    ‘Doesn’t look too bad now,’ said Roxie as she slid the car to a halt on a gravelled turnaround in front of the building.
    Margaret jumped out and cleaned the mud off her boots, before the pair of them went up a short flight of stone steps and into the foyer of the hotel.
    The interior was cool and plush, marble-floored with leather sofas dotted around, all with low tables in front of them. It was deserted at this time of day, apart from a young blonde behind the reception desk. Margaret led the way.
    ‘Good morning,’ said the blonde, whose name tag read ‘Josie’.
    ‘Good morning,’ said Margaret. ‘I wonder if you can help.’
    ‘I’d be happy to.’
    ‘We’re looking for a venue for a dinner. An engagement party for my friend here. Old friends. All women.’
    Roxie smiled, but remained silent.
    ‘That certainly sounds like something we can help with,’ said Josie, warmly. ‘Were you looking for one of our private dining rooms?’
    ‘That sounds perfect. We’re a bit old for a night in a stretch limo wearing a veil covered in condoms, so we’re looking for something a little discreet and classy, and we’ve heard good things about the hotel. In fact, some friends of ours were here – the night before last I think,’ Margaret went on.
    ‘Really,’ Josie