The Lipstick Killers

out the way they’d come in and headed back to the car park. ‘Nice friends you’ve got,’ said Roxie.
    ‘Arseholes,’ said Margaret. ‘No friends of mine. But useful.’
    ‘You were quite scary in there,’ said Roxie.
    ‘That was the idea.’

44
     
     
     
    Back in south Kensington, Peter St Cyr spoke to the receptionist as soon as Margaret had left. He went back to his office and used the phone, then went up to John Haywood’s office, a scowl on his face. ‘We’ve got trouble,’ he said, when the door was closed firmly behind him.
    ‘We always have when the police come calling,’ said Haywood.
    ‘That is the trouble. It wasn’t police,’ said St Cyr.
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘She told Sophie that she was from Kensington police station. I called them. They’ve never heard of a DC Hartley. Male or female.’
    ‘Isn’t it your job to know the local law?’
    ‘I do. Well, the higher echelons anyway. Not every lowly DC. And her ID was authentic. At least it looked like it.’
    ‘Maybe you’d better expand your horizons in future.’
    ‘Sure. But right now I need to find out exactly what her game is.’
    ‘You should never have accommodated her. Just fobbed her off like I did.’
    ‘I didn’t know what she wanted. Could have been anything. Tickets for a police social. We do try and keep in with the law. We bloody have to.’
    ‘But she was fake.’
    St Cyr nodded.
    ‘Then how the devil did she get my name, and the company name? And what did she want to talk to me about?’
    ‘How the devil should I know?’ said St Cyr, sardonically .
    ‘Don’t try to be amusing Peter.’
    ‘I’m not. She knew about Smith. And the meeting before he died.’
    ‘Did she, by God. How come?’ spluttered Haywood.
    St Cyr shrugged. ‘And she knew about Smith’s death, and his bloody secretary too. I didn’t give anything away of course, but she put me on the backfoot.’
    ‘You’re not paid your huge salary to be put on the backfoot Peter.’
    ‘Fine. But then I’m not paid enough to be an accessory to murder. Two murders.’
    ‘You’ve done worse where you’ve been.’
    ‘This is England. That was some godforsaken part of bloody Africa. It’s not the same.’
    ‘Calm down. We didn’t know it would come to this.’ Haywood’s brow was creased.
    ‘I don’t know how the hell we ever got involved with some provincial bloody amateur who I wouldn’t let handle my cleaning lady’s wages, let alone bloody millions.’
    ‘Precisely because no one would suspect him of doing what he was doing.’
    ‘And he ripped us off.’
    ‘Smarter than he looked.’
    ‘Or we were dumber.’
    ‘It happens. But that’s only one of our pressing problems . This fake copper is the issue for now.’
    ‘Sure.’
    ‘You’d better find out who she is.’
    St Cyr nodded. ‘We’ve got her on CCTV.’
    ‘Then get on with your job Peter.’
    ‘I will.’ And with that, he left.
    When he was alone, Haywood picked up the phone. ‘Gina,’ he said, ‘get me Trent up here. I’ve got a job for him.’

45
     
     
     
    Trent was in Haywood’s office almost before he put the phone down. ‘You wanted me sir,’ he said.
    ‘Yes,’ said Haywood, easing himself back in his leather executive’s chair. ‘There’s something I need you to do.’
    ‘Anything you say sir.’ Trent was not a particularly big man. And this had fooled many an opponent to underestimate him. But he was hard and ruthless, and had killed before and was prepared to kill again for anyone who would pay him, and pay him well.
    Haywood smiled. ‘That’s what I like to hear. We have more problems.’ He explained about the fake police detective and her questions about Monty and his secretary .
    Trent frowned. ‘But surely that’s Peter’s project.’
    ‘I think Peter’s conscience may be getting to him.’
    ‘Well, he’s not as young as he used to be.’
    ‘He seems to be rather squeamish about this job.’
    ‘I’ve never known Peter to be that.’
    ‘Times change. People change. Peter’s on the hunt for our impostor. But you have other fish to fry.’
    ‘So what do you need sir?’
    Haywood explained what he wanted and mentioned a bonus that made Trent’s head spin with thoughts of a new car and even a new flat. The fact that it enmeshed him in a conspiracy that could see him in jail for a very long time didn’t even enter his head.

46
     
     
     
    Margaret and Roxie stopped for a late lunch on the way back to Guildford,