The Lipstick Killers

the plot of the CSI Miami that was showing. Around midnight she went to bed, only to be woken by the phone as the digital display on her bedside clock showed three am. Feeling a deadly sense of deja vu , Margaret hooked the receiver off its stand. ‘Yes,’ she said.
    ‘It’s me, Roxie. You’ve got to come back.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘It’s Sharon. She’s taken an overdose.’
    ‘Oh God, no,’ cried Margaret.
    ‘And Peter found her, when she didn’t come in and say goodnight. Frankie’s with them now at this safe house place.’
    ‘Christ, I can’t believe she would do that. Not Sharon. She loved those kids. Did she leave a note?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Stupid cow.’
    ‘No sis, think about it. She’s been through it lately. Monty, Joyce, then those threats. She just couldn’t cope. You know Sharon was always the soft one.’
    ‘But Peter and Susan? Why put them through this? After everything that’s happened to them recently?’
    ‘You know Monty was her life, Mags. She must’ve been desperate,’ Roxie persisted.
    ‘I know how she feels. Was anyone there with them?’
    ‘The copper acting as liaison or whatever you call it. She got an ambulance.’
    ‘Thank Christ for that. At least the kids weren’t on their own. What’s the prognosis? Are you at the hospital?’
    ‘She’s still unconscious, but alive.’
    ‘I’ll be with you as soon as I can. See you later,’ she replied and put down the phone. She got out of bed, and got dressed. Christ, she thought again, unable to take it all in. These bastards have got something to answer for. And they will, if I have to go to prison for the rest of my life.

54
     
     
     
    Margaret sped through the empty streets of south London down to the motorway and on to the hospital in Guildford. She was getting tired of the drive and felt nauseous with the panic gripping her empty stomach.
    She found Roxie pacing up and down outside the entrance of the hospital. ‘What’s the story, Dolly?’ Mags demanded.
    ‘Glad you’re here. Its not looking good, but there’s no change sis. Come on, let’s go up and see her.’
    They went upstairs to the side ward where Sharon was in the only bed; tubes and wires poking out of her mouth and body. The machines next to the bed were bleeping quietly and Margaret took her hand. ‘Why Sharon?’ she said. ‘Why do this to all of us?’
    ‘She did it to herself,’ said Roxie.
    ‘No. To us and the kids. Where are they by the way?’
    ‘Still at the cottage with Frankie. She thought that one of us should be there when they woke up.’
    ‘That’s the best plan. Do they know?’
    ‘Not really.’
    ‘Sister or no sister of ours, this was a bastard thing to do.’
    ‘Don’t be so hard, Mags.’
    ‘We’ve got to be hard. The kids need her more than ever and this is so selfish. Where’s her doctor?’
    ‘That one there,’ said Roxie, pointing towards a youngish, prematurely balding man in green scrubs heading their way. ‘Doctor Ramsey.’
    Margaret buttonholed him in the corridor. ‘Doctor Ramsey,’ she said. ‘It’s about Sharon Smith. I’m her sister Margaret. Is she going to be all right?’
    ‘It’s a waiting game at the moment,’ said the doctor. ‘She took a massive overdose. We pumped her stomach of course and we’re just monitoring her for now. It was lucky the ambulance got there so quickly. I’m sorry I can’t be more specific.’ He went to Sharon’s bedside and checked the monitors. ‘She’s breathing and her lungs are clear. She’s sleeping quietly. That’s all I can tell you. We’re close by, and doing everything we can.’
    ‘Can we stay?’ asked Margaret.
    ‘If you wish, but it could be a long night.’
    ‘We’ll manage,’ said Roxie, eyes fixed on her sister in the bed.

55
     
     
     
    It was almost dawn by then and the next few hours did indeed pass slowly for Roxie and Mags sitting by Sharon’s bed. Although they both prayed for some sign of recovery, Sharon hardly stirred as the nurses and her doctor came and went. Margaret used the time to explain to Roxie about her observation of Peter Saint Cyr and her plan for him and his associates.
    ‘Saint Cyr is the key to this. We grab him and find out everything he knows,’ said Margaret. ‘And then, if it’s true they were behind Monty’s and Joyce’s death, we’ll go straight in and sort out this Haywood character.’
    ‘And if it isn’t what we think?’
    ‘Believe me, we’re right,’ said Margaret. ‘Copper’s