The Lipstick Killers

best interrogation mode.
    ‘This is appalling. Where are we talking about?’
    ‘Guildford.’
    ‘Let me check,’ he rose from his seat, went to his desk and started to type on his computer. ‘Monty Smith, you say?’
    ‘Yes. He was an accountant.’
    ‘Ah. Yes. Here we are. Goodness. We have used his professional services regarding a promotion on the south coast. But it was last year. Nothing since.’
    ‘So why was he at the meeting?’
    ‘I don’t know. Security is my forte. Perhaps another promotion? We do them from time to time,’ said St Cyr, coming back to sit on the chair.
    ‘Promotions for what?’
    ‘We have many irons in many fires. That project last year was a new-build office development in Portsmouth.’
    ‘But Mr Haywood would know, I assume,’ said Margaret.
    ‘I’m sure. Unfortunately…’
    ‘Yes I know,’ interrupted Margaret. ‘He’s “out of the office” today.’
    ‘Precisely.’
    ‘Then I’ll make an appointment. I do need to speak to him as quickly as possible – as I’m sure you’ll understand .’
    ‘Please do. Is there anything else?’ said St Cyr, making it clear that he wanted to be rid of her as quickly as possible.
    ‘Not for now.’
    ‘Then I’ll show you out.’ He wrote a number on a card. ‘This is his PA’s direct line. I’m sure she’ll slot you in at a convenient time for you both.’
    ‘Good. Thanks.’
    He led the way back down to the reception and waited for the lift. ‘Good day detective Hartley,’ he said. ‘Please be sure to send our condolences to his family.’
    ‘I’ll do that.’ And when the lift arrived she entered, pressed ground, and was sure she saw another flash in his eyes as the door closed. Not a pleasant one.

42
     
     
     
    Margaret went back to the car where Roxie was waiting patiently. ‘How did it go?’ she asked.
    ‘Crap,’ said Margaret. ‘Haywood was out so they said, and I saw their head of security. Peter Sincere ,’ she mocked.
    ‘Sincere? What you on about? What was the place like?’
    ‘Really swanky. Someone’s doing well for himself. And it’s spelled S-T-C-Y-R, just pronounced sincere.’
    ‘What’s he like?’
    ‘More oil than my motor. Denied all knowledge at first, but it was plain to see that he knew something. Then, surprise, surprise, he found Monty in his records, said he’d done some work for them last year. But knew nothing about any meeting. Could be a future promotion , he said.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Some bollocks about Monty doing a bit of work on a promotion for a new building in Portsmouth.’
    ‘Why would he?’
    ‘Precisely. It’s too vague. Why would a firm in Kensington use a firm in Guildford? Monty was up to something – and he pissed somebody off. Pissed them off enough to make it worth killing two people for.’
    ‘What now?’
    ‘I dunno. I’ll grill Mahoney when we get back.’
    ‘He must really fancy you if he’s given you inside information. What happens if they find out some fake copper looking like you has been sniffing about?’
    ‘Then I’ll lose my job good and proper. But I don’t care. I was fond of Joyce. And Monty. Well, he was family – and Peter and Susan’s dad.’
    ‘My heart goes out to those little mites. I know how they feel.’
    ‘Right, let’s get back, stash the pistols and see what else rotten has happened.’
    ‘Pessimist.’
    ‘Just the way I feel right now.’
    ‘Then we’d better get something to liven us up,’ said Roxie. ‘Is it still too early to go and see a man about a dog, if you know what I mean?’

43
     
     
     
    Margaret dug out her mobile, and speed dialled a number. After a moment, she said, ‘is Boy there?’
    A pause.
    ‘Then you’d better wake him up then.’
    Another pause.
    ‘Just tell him it’s an old friend from Denmark Hill.’
    A longer pause, and Margaret said, ‘lazy bastards.’ Then, ‘Boy. Sorry to disturb your well earned rest, but I need something.’
    A pause.
    ‘Now, say half an hour, depends on the traffic. See you then.’
    She clicked off the phone and smiled at Roxie. ‘No probs,’ she said. ‘When I say jump, that boy says “What roof?”’
    They drove off, and Margaret headed south towards Loughborough Junction, one of the seediest parts of south London. She stopped outside an old LCC estate built just after World War Two, and not improved by the passage of time. ‘You coming?’ she said to Roxie. ‘Meet the lovely Boy and his harem.’
    ‘You’d better believe