The Lipstick Killers

highly illegal weapons. A Colt .45 semi automatic pistol and a Colt Commander .38 revolver, plus ammunition for both. No, she thought, shaking her head. I don’t need to be armed where I’m going.
    She went outside and found her Porsche Boxter, her one extravagance, parked where she’d left it, got inside and headed south, back to Guildford.

4
     
     
     
    A false dawn was touching the top of the hills above Guildford when Sharon and Frankie finally returned from the hospital. Frankie turned the car into the short drive that led up to Sharon’s detached house. All the downstairs lights were on. She parked up and they walked together to the front door which was slightly ajar. Inside the house, Marion, Sharon’s next door neighbour – was on the phone in the hallway, talking quietly. ‘They’re here,’ she said into the mouthpiece, and offered the phone to Sharon. ‘It’s your sister Margaret,’ she said. ‘She’s on her way.’
    Sharon shook her head and instead walked into the lounge where she fell heavily into an armchair. Frankie took the receiver. ‘Mags, we’re home now. How long will you be?’
    She listened. ‘See you then,’ and put down the phone gently. She smiled at Marion and said. Thanks love, don’t know what we’d have done without you.’
    ‘Do you want me to stay?’ Marion asked.
    ‘No, you’ve done enough. Go get some sleep.’
    ‘If I can. This is horrible. How is Sharon holding up?’
    ‘I’m not sure it’s hit her properly yet.’
    ‘Poor love. I’ll just go and say goodbye to her.’
    Marion went into the lounge and said, biting her lip. ‘Sharon, the kids are asleep. I just looked in. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to say.’
    ‘Thanks,’ said Sharon, staring out into space, the fatigue and grief showing deeply on her face. She had aged ten years in the last few hours.
    ‘Listen, do you need them taken to school or anything? I can drop them off.’
    Sharon looked at Frankie who was standing in the doorway, her expression blank. It was left to Frankie to answer Marion. ‘I don’t know if they’ll go tomorrow.’
    ‘Well, just let me know. You’ve got all my numbers.’
    Sharon nodded and Frankie herded her towards the front door. ‘Thanks again, we’ll be in touch.’
    ‘Anything,’ replied Marion. ‘I mean it. We’re just next door, and Monty is – was – such a good man.’
    Frankie nodded as she closed the front door behind her. She leant up against it, and despite herself, started to cry for the first time that night.
    She shook her head at her own weakness, dried her eyes with a hanky from her coat pocket, and went back into the lounge where Sharon had fallen asleep in a chair. Frankie took off her coat and tucked it round her sister. That’s the right thing to do, she thought, sleep while you can. Frankie then went upstairs to check on her nephew and niece who were sleeping peacefully in their beds. Not much peace for you for a while thought Frankie, as she gently closed the doors to their rooms.
    She went back into the kitchen, where she put on the kettle for a pot of tea. On the way downstairs she passed the family photographs lined up on the walls. The family all pictured together in happy times, holidays at the villa in Spain, Christmas here and at Sharon’s previous, smaller house. She could hardly bear to look at them. There were even a couple with her in attendance, although she could not remember on what occasion. So much for me, she thought.
    She sat at the kitchen table sipping the hot brew as the sky outside lightened, until she heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. She went to the front door as Margaret parked next to her car and got out. ‘Hello Mags,’ said Frankie as the sisters embraced.
    ‘Hello yourself,’ said Margaret. ‘This is not good.’ She spoke in a low voice so as not to disturb the quiet of the empty street.
    ‘You can say that again,’ came Frankie’s reply, equally hushed.
    ‘Where’s Sharon?’
    ‘In the lounge, asleep in a chair. She’s exhausted.’
    ‘Christ. Poor bloody Monty.’
    ‘ You never thought much of him.’
    ‘I don’t think much of anybody,’ said Margaret. ‘Except you lot of course.’
    ‘That’s why we never see you?’ said Frankie, her tone accusatory.
    ‘Don’t start Frankie. Not today. You know that’s not true. Anyway, even if it is, I’m here now aren’t I?’
    ‘I’m sorry darling. This is all beginning to get to me.’
    ‘And we haven’t even