The Lipstick Killers

The live phone went in the top pocket of the jacket, and the .38 revolver in her bag – just in case. They sat opposite the bar, and right on time Peter Saint Cyr arrived, dressed in a Burberry macintosh and a trilby hat. ‘That’s the fella,’ said Margaret.
    ‘Too smooth for my taste,’ said Roxie.
    ‘Don’t worry. I reckon you’re just up his street. Now go, girl, and remember you can do this.’
    She left the car, crossed the street, went into the bar and sat at a stool in front of the counter, two seats down from where Saint Cyr was sitting. He noticed her immediately , as did every other man in the place. She looked at her watch with a frown and ordered a white wine spritzer from the barman. He produced it with a flourish and a smile which she didn’t return, just looked at her watch again and tapped her foot impatiently on the floor.
    Saint Cyr looked at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar and took a sip of his beer. Margaret had been right. Roxie was just his type, especially looking the way she did that evening.
    Fifteen minutes passed and Roxie had hardly touched her drink, just kept checking the time before she took her own mobile out of her handbag and pretended to make a call. To Saint Cyr it simply looked like no one answered, and she pulled a face before switching the instrument off. That was when he made his move, standing and walking down towards her. ‘Excuse me,’ he said.
    She turned and gave him a dirty look. ‘What?’ she said.
    ‘Are you OK?’
    ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ Roxie snapped at him.
    ‘Sorry. But I couldn’t help noticing. You look like something’s wrong.’
    ‘If it’s any of your business, which it isn’t, I’m supposed to be meeting someone and they haven’t turned up.’
    ‘Then he’s got very bad taste. He should be ashamed,’ said St Cyr, smoothly.
    ‘It’s not a he, it’s as she, as a matter of fact, and she’s always doing this. Her phone’s switched off and not even a bloody text.’
    ‘Sorry again. But don’t waste the evening. Can I get you another drink?’
    ‘I haven’t finished this one yet, and I should be going.’
    ‘Don’t go. This is a decent place, and it livens up later. Have you been before?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Thought not. I’m a bit of a regular after work – and I’d have noticed you no doubt. Why don’t you stay a while? Just a friendly drink. Anyway, your friend might have been delayed. She could still turn up.’
    ‘Suppose so,’ said Roxie, pretending to give it some thought.
    ‘May I join you then.’
    ‘If you want.’
    Saint Cyr fetched his drink and took the stool next to Roxie. ‘My names Peter, by the way.’
    For the first time Roxie smiled. ‘Peter. I’m Tessa. My friends call me Tess.’
    ‘Pleased to meet you Tess,’ he said, and they shook hands. While Peter busied himself ordering the drinks, Roxie took the chance to check that the phone in her top pocket was still running – that Mags could hear every word of their conversation.

70
     
     
     
    After that, the evening went just as Margaret had forecast . After a shaky start, Tess and Peter began an animated conversation, and she seemed to warm to him more and more. It seemed that Peter was a big man in finance and security and Tess owned several beauty salons. ‘You’re too young, surely?’ said Peter.
    ‘Thank you, but I decided early on that I was going to be my own boss.’
    ‘Very wise.’ ‘No boyfriend?’ Saint Cyr had noticed that there were no rings on her left hand.
    “Fraid not. No man can keep up with me. That’s why it was a girl’s night out tonight – or supposed to be. Makes a change from sitting in front of the box though. How about you?’
    ‘No. No boyfriend,’ said Saint Cyr with a laugh.
    ‘You know what I mean.’
    ‘They work me too hard at the office. That’s why I end up here most nights, keeping the barman company.’
    ‘Well cheers,’ said Roxie, touching her glass to his. ‘Looks like it didn’t work out too bad for either of us,’ she flirted.
    An hour or two passed companionably as they sipped their drinks and chatted about inconsequentials – the weather, the US elections and the best restaurants in the West End, and Roxie said all the right things to make Saint Cyr sure he was onto a result.
    ‘Listen,’ said Roxie, checking her watch and seeing that it was close to ten pm, ‘I really have to go.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Yes. I’ve got an early start tomorrow.’
    ‘Where do you