The Lipstick Killers

eyebrow.
    ‘Alone. Do you want to split the bill?’
    ‘No, this is on me. You can pay next time.’
    ‘If there is a next time,’ she said, raising one eyebrow.
    ‘Here’s hoping then,’ he said, and gestured to the waiter.
    ‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ said Margaret. ‘See you in the morning.’
    ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
    Margaret got up, collected her things and shook his hand. ‘Drive carefully,’ he said. ‘And remember what I said, these people don’t care who they hurt,’ he said as she turned to leave.
    ‘Don’t worry about me,’ said Margaret, ‘I’m a Doyle, and we look after our own.’

37
     
     
     
    When Margaret got back to the house, a different car with two passengers was parked across the street. She nodded to the new police guards and went inside, where Roxie was waiting up for her, watching TV in the living room. ‘Dirty stop out,’ she said by way of a greeting.
    ‘Are you my mother now?’ asked Margaret.
    ‘More like Frankie. Mum never had a chance to wait up for us, did she?’
    ‘Sorry love, I didn’t think.’
    ‘Don’t matter,’ said Roxie, brightening up. ‘So, how did your date go?’
    ‘It wasn’t a date,’ said her sister, but avoiding her eyes by making a show of hanging up her coat and rustling through her bag.
    ‘Just a drink, yeah?’ She looked at her watch. ‘So what time do you call this?’
    Margaret laughed at her mock-serious tone, and impulsively went over and embraced her sister. ‘Thought I’d wait up for you,’ said Roxie. ‘London, tomorrow. Right?’
    Margaret nodded.
    ‘I’ll kip on the sofa. Don’t want to disturb Frankie by going back to hers.’
    ‘You sure?’
    ‘Yep. I’ve slept on a lot less comfortable in my time. And besides, we’ve got protection. Makes me feel all secure, knowing that there’s two beefy blokes sitting outside to protect us. I told Frankie she should stay too, but you know her. Said we had to live our lives.’
    ‘Listen Roxie,’ said Margaret, suddenly serious. ‘This thing could get nasty. Extremely nasty. What someone did to Joyce…’ She didn’t finish.
    ‘I can cope,’ said Roxie. ‘You think opening a business on the Costa del Crime is a piece of cake? A woman on her own. I’ve had my share of hard visitors looking for a slice of the cake, and some of them wouldn’t take no for an answer.’ She wondered if this was the time to tell Margaret everything, but hesitated again.
    Margaret shook her head. ‘Dolly, what have you been up to? I never realised,’ she said.
    ‘You weren’t supposed to. None of you. But for a while I was sleeping with a shotgun under the bed.’ And a Derringer in the cash drawer, she thought.
    ‘Blimey!’
    ‘Blimey’s right. Now listen. It’s getting late, we should both get to bed. This film is crap, and I need some sleep if we’re going to take on the world – and shopping on Oxford street.’

38
     
     
     
    Margaret was up before anyone else and woke Roxie with a cup of tea. ‘I’m going off to give my statement to Mahoney about finding Joyce,’ she said, as her sister sat up in bed, honey-blonde hair sitting in a halo above her head. ‘Then we’ll go to London.’
    ‘Fine. I’ll get dressed. Thanks for the tea, sis,’ said Roxie, in a voice fuzzy with sleep.
    The two left the house before Sharon and the children came down,Margaret leaving a note on the kitchen table to tell them they’d be back in the afternoon. She drove down to the police station and left Roxie in the car in the visitor’s parking area. ‘I won’t be long,’ she said.
    ‘Give him a kiss for me,’ said Roxie, already fiddling with the tuner for the radio.
    Margaret just sighed in exasperation.
    She went to the front desk and asked for Mahoney, who came down a few minutes later and took her to an empty office. She recounted the story of finding Joyce’s body and he transcribed it onto a computer, printed it out and passed it over so she could sign the bottom of the page. ‘What now?’ he asked.
    ‘I’m off to London with Roxie to pick up a few things and have a scout round.’
    ‘Remember – be careful.’
    ‘I’ll be okay, but thanks for your concern.’
    ‘Let me know what you find if anything,’ he said.
    She nodded in reply and got up to leave, but before she left asked him, ‘Anything yet on Joyce’s murder?’
    ‘Nothing,’ he replied.
    ‘You will let me know? A favour for a favour, remember?’
    ‘I remember, and I