The Lipstick Killers

open. On the top of one of the desks was a computer with its insides scattered around.
    The DC pulled on a pair of surgeon’s gloves and went to it. ‘Hard drives gone, Skip,’ he said.
    Mahoney turned to Margaret. ‘If you had anything to do with this…’
    Margaret held up the keys. ‘I wouldn’t need to break in. And it pisses me off that you’d think I did.’
    ‘Who else works here?’ asked Mahoney. ‘He didn’t work alone did he?’
    ‘His secretary,’ said Margaret. ‘Joyce. She’s been with him for years. She’s nearly sixty. She wouldn’t…’
    ‘So where is she?’
    ‘We told her to take time off. Frankie spoke to her. She came round yesterday. She’s like part of the family. And she has a set of keys too.’
    ‘We’ll have to check with her. And I’m sorry I suggested you did this. But it certainly looks like someone didn’t want us to know Mr Smith’s business.’
    ‘I wonder who?’ said Margaret.
    ‘We’ll find out.’ Then to the DC. ‘I want Scene of Crime in here right away. Secure the door and stay here until they arrive.’
    The DC nodded and got out his mobile, calling in the Scene of Crime units.
    Mahoney turned to Margaret. ‘There’s nothing you can do here,’ he said. I’d like the secretary’s address. I need to speak to her.’
    ‘I don’t know it,’ Mags told him. She saw the look on Roxie’s face out of the corner of her eye but remained impassive.
    ‘Does Mrs Smith have it?’
    ‘Naturally.’
    He gave her his card. ‘Please call me when you get back, and let me have it.’
    ‘Of course,’ said Margaret, and the two women left.
    ‘Masterful, isn’t he?’ said Roxie as they went back to the car. ‘A real man. But what was all that about not knowing Joyce’s address, you liar?’
    Margaret didn’t answer. She had other things on her mind.

30
     
     
     
    When the sisters got back to Sharon’s she was with the children watching TV. Margaret and Roxie took Frankie in to the kitchen and told her what they had found at Monty’s office. ‘Christ,’ she said. ‘What the hell is going on?’
    Margaret shrugged. ‘It looks like Monty was involved with some very bad people. This is not good. Not good at all.’
    ‘What sort of bad people?’ asked Frankie, looking pale and nervous.
    ‘That’s what I intend to find out.’
    ‘You should leave it to the police.’
    ‘I am police. And this is my family. I need to speak to Joyce. Remind me of her number, love.’
    ‘What about Mahoney?’ said Roxie. ‘You lied about not knowing Joyce’s address but he can easily find it in Monty’s stuff.’
    ‘That’s true, but I want to talk to her first. See what she knows. She was Monty’s secretary after all – she’ll know what was going on in that office.’
    Frankie got out her address book and pointed to numbers for a land line and a mobile. Margaret took out her phone and tried both. ‘The land line’s engaged and the mobile’s off,’ she said. ‘It’s only five minutes to hers in the car. I’m going to go round.’
    ‘Do you want me to come?’ asked Roxie.
    ‘No. You stay here. Tell Sharon about the office. This is only going to upset her again, so it’s better if you’re both here.’
    She grabbed her keys and went out to the car. Joyce’s house was closer to the centre of town. She put the address in her Sat-Nav and soon pulled up in front of a two up, two down end of terrace. She remembered it from giving Joyce a lift home on one of the few occasions the family had a big party. She parked outside, pushed open the front gate and went up the path. There was a light on in the hall, but no answer when she pushed the bell. Mags started to get a bad feeling. Joyce lived alone, had few visitors and was frugal, not one to waste electricity . She walked round the front of the house to the side gate when there was a rustling in the hedge and she jumped. ‘Christ,’ she said, ‘bleeding hell kitty, you gave me a fright,’ as Joyce’s big, old grey Persian cat emerged from its hiding place. Margaret bent down to pet the animal, who she remembered was called Thomas. Joyce loved the cat like it was her own child. In a way, it was. ‘You’re all wet,’ she said. Her heart started to pound with adrenaline.
    The gate was on the latch so she pushed it open and went up the narrow path at the side of the house, followed by Thomas, mewing loudly.
    The back door into the kitchen was closed, but unlocked, and Margaret knew that