The Lipstick Killers

down by the river? Know it?’
    ‘Sure, I know it. Will you be able to get away though, aren’t you in the middle of the case?’
    ‘It’s police business and it will only be for an hour or so. And we do need to talk.’
    ‘OK. What time?’
    He looked at his watch. ‘Say six?’
    ‘Six it is.’
    ‘What about the cat?’ asked Mahoney.
    ‘Oh Christ. I forgot about him. I better take him, you lot trampling about will frighten him to death.’
    Margaret and Mahoney went back into the garden and found Thomas glaring at one of the SOCOs. ‘It’s all right,’ said Margaret. ‘He won’t bite.’
    ‘That’s not my experience,’ said the man, eyeballing the cat as it arched its back and hissed at him.
    ‘I’ll take him.’
    ‘And you are?’
    ‘It’s OK,’ Mahoney interrupted. ‘She’s family.’
    The SOCO shrugged and Margaret picked up Thomas, who struggled for a second, then settled down in her arms. ‘Later,’ she said to Mahoney and took the cat out to her car. On the way she saw Jacko, who gave her another look that could kill. She put Thomas inside the Porsche and drove back to Sharon’s, dreading what was to come.
    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