The Lipstick Killers

Margaret.
    ‘We’ll have a double funeral,’ said Sharon.
    ‘It might take time for them to release both bodies,’ said Margaret.
    Silence fell in the room as the four women took in the magnitude of what had happened.
    Finally Roxie broke the silence. ‘You’re getting pally with Mahoney,’ she said to Margaret.
    ‘Police business,’ replied Margaret. ‘And I’m meeting him later.’
    ‘What for?’
    ‘Information. He’s got it, we need it. Plus I’ve got to give a statement about finding Joyce. We’re going for a drink.’
    ‘Told you,’ said Roxie. ‘Told you they’d get friendly.’
    ‘Do be quiet,’ said Margaret. ‘He’s useful. And he has got us our protection.’
    ‘What happened to Thomas?’ Frankie asked suddenly.
    ‘Oh Christ,’ said Margaret. ‘He’s in the car. Probably tearing my upholstery to shreds. I couldn’t leave him with all those hairy-arsed coppers milling about at Joyce’s. He’d have done a runner. And we’ve lost too much already.’
    ‘He can stay with us,’ said Sharon. ‘The kids always wanted a pet and it might take their minds off what’s happening. And Joyce loved that moggy. We owe it to her. When will we have to move and where will we go?’
    ‘I don’t know when, but we should find something fast. There’s safe houses,’ said Margaret. ‘If nothing else.’
    ‘I’ll call Monty’s mum. You might be right. Do us all a power of good to get away.’
    ‘That’s my girl,’ said Margaret, pleased that Sharon had finally started to come out of her dark depression, but still her mind was fixed on the sight of Joyce on her bed. Who would have done such a thing – and would they target her family next?

35
     
     
     
    In fact, Thomas was curled up fast asleep on the driver’s seat when Margaret went to fetch him. On the way back to the house she’d stopped at Tesco and bought food, kitty litter, a tray and food bowls for the animal. Bleeding hell she thought, this moggy’s going to cost us a fortune – all the while knowing that she would never have left him, for Joyce’s sake. She smiled at the two coppers still guarding the place, grabbed Thomas and took him inside. Peter and Susan had come downstairs and were delighted to see the cat, immediately fussing around him. ‘What did you tell them?’ Margaret whispered to Sharon. ‘About Joyce I mean.’
    ‘That Aunty Joyce has gone away for a bit. I didn’t want any more tears before bedtime.’
    ‘Best thing,’ said Margaret.
    At half five Margaret was ready for her meet with Mahoney. ‘Have fun,’ grinned Roxie as she left. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.’
    ‘Leave it out,’ said Margaret, smiling in spite of herself.
    ‘We still on for London tomorrow?’
    ‘That’s right,’ said Mags. ‘I need to pick some stuff up from the flat first.’
    ‘Well don’t be late back then, we should get going early’
    ‘A drink,’ sighed Margaret, ‘that’s all it is. Intelligence gathering. I’ll be back before you know it.’
    Roxie just waved, cheekily.
    Mahoney was already at the pub when Margaret parked up, sitting outside at a table by the water’s edge – a pint in front of him and a cigarette burning between his fingers. ‘Didn’t know you smoked,’ said Margaret as she joined him at the wooden table.
    ‘On and off. I’m just a social smoker. What are you drinking?’
    ‘White wine,’ she replied, and he stubbed out the cigarette and went into the pub.
    When he got back and she had her drink, he said. ‘Who’d’ve guessed it would happen. Can’t even have a fag at the bar these days.’
    ‘Not like the old days in the CID,’ said Margaret. ‘Smoke so thick you couldn’t see across the room.’
    ‘Happy days.’
    ‘You don’t look happy.’
    ‘I’m not. This is a major case now. DCI involved. Super on the prowl. All the way up to the Chief Constable. We don’t have that many murders in Guildford. Not this kind anyway. Some stupid kid with a knife stabs another stupid kid in a row over a DVD, and the little sod bleeds to death. Or some fisty husband going too far. Nothing like this. I’m no longer in charge. Just another face in the crowd from now on.’
    ‘I doubt you’d ever be just a face in the crowd Mahoney.’
    ‘Michael. Mike. And are you flirting with me?’
    ‘Don’t know. It’s been ages since I’ve had a good flirt.’
    ‘Me too,’ he said, looking at her with a half smile.
    ‘No Mrs Mike then?’
    ‘No. Nor likely to be.