The Lipstick Killers

hall and into the kitchen, where Mags heard him open and close the fridge door. He returned with an open bottle of wine and two glasses. By then Margaret was sitting on the sofa, her skirt up around her thighs, and she knew Mahoney noticed. He put the bottle and glasses on the coffee table, filled both and handed her one glass. He joined her on the sofa and they clinked their glasses together. ‘Cheers,’ he said.
    ‘Cheers,’ she replied.
    ‘So what do you want to eat?’ he asked. ‘Pizza, Chinese, Indian, Thai. The whole culinary world is just down the road, only a phone call away.
    Margaret crossed her legs and her skirt rose even higher. ‘Can we eat later?’ she asked. ‘Frankly right now, after the day I’ve had, I’d just like to go to bed.’

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    ‘You don’t beat around the bush do you?’ said Mahoney, surprised at her words.
    ‘After what I’ve seen in the past few weeks, especially today, I don’t have time to waste. Life can be very short, and who knows where we’ll be tomorrow. I’ve lost my bloody sister, I’m feeling like shit. I feel guilty about what happened to her, and guilty about just being here when I should really be with my family.’
    ‘You have no reason to be guilty. None of this is your fault. So why are you here?’
    ‘To forget for a few hours.’
    ‘And I’m just handy, I suppose?’
    ‘Look Mahoney, this is what it is. If you want me to go, I will.’
    ‘I never said that.’
    ‘I’m not just using you Mahoney. I need a friend. They’ve been in short supply for long time.’
    ‘Just a friend?’
    ‘You know what I mean. You want to don’t you?’
    ‘You know I’ve wanted to, since the first time I saw you,’ Mahoney said softly.
    ‘But you made a good job of pretending not to like me.’
    ‘It was hard, but I was here for the job.’
    ‘And it’s hard now isn’t it?’ She looked at his crotch inside his tight jeans.
    Mahoney actually blushed, then laughed. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you before, Ms Doyle,’ he said. ‘Got me’.
    ‘At least for tonight,’ she said, standing up and taking his hand. ‘Bring the wine,’ she said, smiling at him seductively.
    They went out of the room and Mahoney led her to the bedroom. It was barely furnished but the double bed, wardrobe and dresser looked expensive. ‘Nice bed,’ said Margaret. ‘Nice and big. I see you’re prepared for visitors .’
    ‘Came with the place,’ said Mahoney, putting the bottle and his glass on top of the dresser. ‘And I’ve always flown solo before now.’
    ‘It’ll make a nice change for you then,’ said Margaret as she dragged him over to the bed and peeled back the duvet. ‘Now undress me for fuck’s sake and let’s get this show on the road.’
    She turned and asked him to unzip her skirt, which he did. She let it drop to the floor and stepped out of it facing away from him. When she turned back he’d taken off his shirt. ‘Nice bod,’ she said. ‘I had a feeling it would be. You must lay off the pies in the canteen.’
    ‘Always liked to keep in shape,’ he replied. ‘You never know what the day will bring.’
    ‘No you don’t,’ said Margaret, and she went into his arms and they kissed. Gently at first then harder, until her head swum, and it wasn’t the drop of wine she’d drunk that caused it. She wanted to forget about everything for a few hours – and Mahoney helped her do that.

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    When they were both satisfied, they lay back on the damp sheets. ‘That was good,’ said Mahoney.
    Margaret said nothing.
    ‘What do you think?’ he asked.
    ‘Thai,’ replied Margaret. ‘Light, but spicy.’
    ‘No, I mean…’
    ‘I know what you mean Mahoney,’ she interrupted.
    ‘Mike. Now we’re friends.’
    ‘I like Mahoney better though.’
    ‘Fair enough Mags. They call you Mags don’t they? Your family. I will too if you don’t mind.’
    ‘If you want,’ she said shortly.
    ‘You’re always the hard woman. But you were soft when we made love.’
    ‘Did you say ‘love’, Mahoney? That wasn’t love – that was sex, pure and simple.’
    ‘Next time it might be.’
    ‘If there is a next time after tonight. You see Mahoney, we’re in a bubble. And that bubble could burst,’ she said in a hushed voice that betrayed her true feelings.
    He held her tightly and she didn’t push him away. ‘I know who did it,’ she said, muffled into his chest.
    ‘Did what?’
    ‘Killed Monty and Joyce, and made