The Lipstick Killers

Mahoney stood behind them, hopping from foot to foot in frustration.
    ‘Would you like to see her?’ asked the doctor. ‘Before we take her downstairs.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Margaret holding onto her sister tightly.
    They followed the doctor into a sterile room down the corridor where Sharon’s body lay on a gurney. Mahoney stayed outside, his face grey.
    Both the women kissed their sister’s face which was already beginning to cool. ‘How are we going to tell Frankie and the kids? They’ve just lost their dad – now they’re orphans?’ asked Roxie.
    ‘We’ll manage,’ said Margaret, her face set with determination . ‘Between us, we’ll cope.’

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    They went back outside to where Mahoney was waiting. ‘Where’s this cottage?’ asked Margaret. ‘We need to get there now.’
    ‘Not far,’ replied Mahoney. ‘Maybe twenty minutes. But it’s a bit hard to find. I’ll drive you if you like.’
    ‘No, I’ve got my car,’ said Margaret. ‘You lead the way, we’ll follow.’
    ‘OK. For what’s it worth, I am really sorry to hear about Sharon. This case has claimed too many lives already.’
    They found the doctor and told him they were leaving to break the news to the rest of the family. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘And once again you have our profound sympathy.’
    ‘Thank you,’ said Margaret. Roxie could only nod, her face swollen from crying.
    The three went down to the car park where Roxie joined Margaret in the Porsche. Mahoney pulled out in front of them and headed away from Guildford with Margaret following close behind. Roxie dabbed at her eyes. ‘This is going to be hard,’ she said.
    ‘I know,’ replied Margaret. ‘Those poor kids.’
    ‘What will happen to them?’
    ‘I suppose Frankie will look after them. There’s no way our niece and nephew are going into care. But it’ll be hard on her.’
    ‘She’s a natural mother, she’ll be okay. I just hope we’re around to lend a hand,’ said Roxie, turning to look at Mags.
    ‘It’s not too late to just forget all about Haywood,’ said Margaret.
    ‘You’re kidding. Sharon’s dead because of him. Even more reason to see that fucker gets what he deserves.’
    ‘If we’re right,’ said Mags, a faint tone of uncertainty entering her voice.
    ‘I thought you were sure. Copper’s instinct.’
    ‘I don’t know what I am right now.’
    ‘Listen. This is no time for second thoughts. You’re the one wanted a hundred percent. Right?’
    ‘Right,’ said Mags.
    ‘We know they’re at it. And it could only have been them that killed Monty and Joyce.’
    ‘But we don’t have any hard evidence,’ Mags hated to voice her fears but she needed reassurance.
    ‘So what? We know. We don’t need hard evidence. Only to get one of them to crack. What would Mum have done? Waited for hard evidence? I don’t think so. She worked on instinct. You must’ve done too to get as far as you did in your job.’
    ‘Yeah,’ said Mags. ‘You’re right. And you’re more like Mum than any of us. Sorry. Bottle went a bit there.’
    ‘I understand sis. So when do we do it?’
    ‘Tomorrow.’
    ‘OK, tomorrow it is,’ said Roxie looking through the windscreen at the back of Mahoney’s car. ‘He really likes you, you know. So do something about it.’
    ‘No time.’
    ‘There’s one more night – tonight. If the last few days have taught us anything, it’s that you’ve got to grab life in both hands. Just go for it Mags. What have you got to lose?’

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    Mahoney led them off the A3 close to Guildford, then onto a number of minor roads. They weaved through a couple of small villages, then onto a bumpy track through a wood just big enough for one car, that opened up onto a turnaround with a small cottage at one end. They recognised Frankie’s car but not the other plain, dark saloon parked outside.
    They got out of the Porsche and the air was silent except for the rustling of the leaves of the trees. ‘Idyllic,’ said Roxie. ‘Ain’t that the word?’
    ‘Not when we break the news,’ said Margaret. ‘I’m not looking forward to this.’
    ‘Me neither,’ said Roxie, her eyes welling up again.
    They walked together to Mahoney’s car and he wound down the window. ‘Want me to come in?’ he asked Margaret.
    ‘No. This is our job.’
    ‘I’ll be going then.’
    ‘No. I need to speak to you. Don’t go. Please.’
    ‘Sure,’ said Mahoney. ‘I’ll park up over there.’
    ‘I may be a