The Lipstick Killers Read online

  She pulled a pen from her pocket and added the number to the one on the card, then swung the computer back and made her way up the stairs to the room where she was sure Monty had had his last meal.

  After a brief look round, with Roxie showing the appropriate enthusiasm for the room, they returned to the foyer where Josie gave them menus and room prices – and Margaret gave her a false phone number. They left the building and went back to the car. ‘What do you reckon?’ asked Roxie.

  ‘That must be it,’ said Margaret. ‘I got a number for Haywood, whoever he is. It’s a London number.’

  ‘Can you trace it?’

  ‘I’ve still got some friends,’ said Margaret. ‘No problem. Let’s go back, and I’ll make some calls.’

  25

  On the way back the two sisters stopped off for lunch in an Italian restaurant in Guildford. Roxie wanted to tell Margaret everything that she’d left behind in Spain but still wasn’t sure how her sister would take it. She was a copper, after all. So instead, she asked. ‘So what’s the plan?’ when they were seated at a quiet table by the window, a bottle of red wine between them.

  ‘Like I said,’ said Margaret. ‘I’ve still got some friends. One in particular. He’s an IT wizard.’

  ‘Good looking?’

  ‘Don’t you ever think of anything else? No. He’s like that scientist in The Simpsons – you know, the one with the stutter and Coke bottle glasses – and has unfortunate hygienic habits. Still after getting into my pants though.’

  ‘Lucky you.’

  ‘I’m going to get him to trace these two numbers for me.’

  ‘Will he do it?’

  ‘If I’m nice to him. Trouble is, Mahoney’s got Monty’s BlackBerry. Christ knows what numbers are in it.’

  ‘Did you have to give it to him?’

  ‘I had no choice.’

  ‘You didn’t have a chance to check it out?’

  ‘Didn’t think it would matter. It was an accident, or so we thought. Then there’s his office computer. They’re bound to impound that, if there’s any suspicion that Monty was murdered.’

  ‘Do you think there is?’ Roxie drew a sharp breath at the mention of murder.

  ‘According to Mahoney. We’ll find out for sure at the inquest tomorrow. Open verdict I reckon.’

  ‘What about the funeral?’

  ‘They should release the body all right. Then we can sort it out. You will stay, won’t you?’

  ‘I told you. Long as I’m needed. I want to help you find out what happened.’

  ‘It could be dangerous though, Roxie. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘I live for danger – I’m a Doyle, remember?’

  After they’d finished their pasta they headed back to the house. Sharon and the children had gone out for a walk, so Frankie was the only one home.

  ‘Anything?’ she asked when the two sisters came in.

  ‘Could be,’ said Margaret. ‘I’m going upstairs to make a call. How are they bearing up?’

  ‘Not good,’ replied her eldest sister. ‘I thought it best for them to get out of the house – the phone never stops ringing and Sharon’s getting more and more upset.’

  ‘It’s to be expected,’ said Roxie. ‘I’ll hold the fort a bit. You go and have a sit down Frankie.’

  ‘I’ll go outside for a fag first. Don’t like to smoke in the house.’

  Margaret went upstairs to her room and sat on the bed. She thought about the coke in her shoe, but picked up her mobile instead and called a London number. ‘Spike,’ a man’s voice answered.

  ‘Hello Spike,’ she said. ‘How are you today?’

  ‘The lovely Miss Doyle,’ the voice said. ‘What a pleasant surprise. But should I be talking to you?’

  ‘Probably not.’

  ‘So what can I do for you – aren’t you off duty for the foreseeable? Don’t tell me – is our date on at long last?’

  ‘That depends…’

  ‘I sense a favour being asked.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Spit it out. It can’t be official, because I hear you’ve been a very naughty girl.’

  ‘Don’t piss about Spike. You know everything that’s going on. Probably knew before I did that I was on suspension.’

  ‘Probably, but you know me, I don’t like to gossip,’ he said, smarmily.

  Mags said nothing but rolled her eyes.

  ‘I need two numbers traced.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘My brother-in-law died in a car crash two nights ago. It might not have been an accident.’

  ‘Samantha Spade eh? A little private investigation to keep your hand in?’

  ‘I just want to know what happened.’

  ‘Guildford, was it?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Guildford. You are in Guildford aren’t you?’

  Despite herself Margaret smiled. ‘Clever boy.’

  ‘State of the art. I can trace mobile phone calls anywhere in the world, anytime.’

  ‘Makes me feel all warm inside.’

  ‘And so you should. You’d be amazed how much the Home Office are prepared to spend on toys for me.’

  ‘No I wouldn’t.’

  ‘Right.’ Spike was suddenly all business. ‘Give me the numbers and I’ll call you back.’ Obviously someone had interrupted him. She reeled them off, and with a hurried ‘Bye,’ he was gone.

  She thought again about the drugs hidden in her shoe, and this time she decided to give them a go. So she did.

  26

  Just after Mags snorted the line, there was a knock on her door. ‘Give us a minute,’ she shouted, wiping her nose, and dropping a towel on top of the wrap of cocaine. Then, calling ‘Come in,’ Roxie stuck her head around the door. She had in her hands two cold beers.

  ‘Fancy a drink?’ she said.

  ‘Sure,’ said Margaret. ‘Just the job.’

  Roxie came in, shut the door behind her and sat on the edge of the bed. She passed one can to Margaret, and cracked her own.

  Roxie looked at her and laughed out loud.

  ‘What?’ said Margaret.

  ‘Your nostril.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Take a look.’

  Margaret went to the mirror on the wall. There was a residue of white powder on her top lip. ‘Oh fuck,’ she said, ‘I look like Amy Winehouse.’

  ‘Except you’ve got better hair – just. Is that what I think it is?’ asked Roxie. ‘Or have you just been too liberal with the talcum powder?’

  ‘I give in,’ said Margaret. ‘It’s what you think it is.’

  ‘Mags, I’m surprised at you,’ Roxie said in a mock-accusatory tone.

  ‘I know, I know.’

  ‘And you a policewoman too.’

  ‘Suspended policewoman to be exact,’ Mags retorted to her sister.

  ‘Got a line for me then?’ said Roxie, cheekily.

  ‘Roxie, you’re my baby sister. I can’t be giving you toot.’

  ‘And all grown up. I worked the ships don’t forget, and Spain. Those old crims almost live on the stuff. Plus don’t forget all those weekends I went out clubbing, I practically existed on e’s and coke.’

  ‘Don’t tell me any more! You can have a bit,’ said Margaret. ‘But mum would’ve killed me.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about mum lately,’ said Roxie, as Margaret carefully lifted the towel off the dressing table.

  ‘Me too,’ said Margaret. ‘Right now, I’d’ve loved to be able to talk to her about what’s happening. The job; now Monty.’

  Roxie went to the table, cut out a line with Margaret’s credit card, rolled the ten pound note next to it tighter, knelt, and snorted the drug. She drew in a sharp breath. ‘Good stuff,’ she said.

  ‘Good dealer,’ said Margaret. ‘I cut him some slack a while ago, and now he lets me have the best for a knock-down price.’

  ‘You must introduce us.’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe later. Who knows when all of this
will be over.’

  Roxie sat on the bed again. ‘Remember that party?’ she asked, deep in thought.

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘My sixth birthday. The day mum collapsed.’

  ‘I’ll never forget it. How could I? Ambulance, and then the bad news.’

  ‘Seems to me, it was the last day I was really happy.’

  ‘Dolly, I’m so sad to hear that. But the same goes for me.’

  ‘Jesus, that sucks,’ said Roxie. ‘Mum would have wanted us to live our lives.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Remember that bloke?’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘Some hanger-on arsehole. One of those Z-list crims that used to hang around the house, always pissed. Asked you what you were going to do when you grew up.’

  Margaret laughed. ‘I remember.’

  ‘You told him you were going to be a copper, and arrest people like him.’

  ‘Yeah. Mum gave me a bollocking for that.’

  ‘His face.’

  ‘And I ended up doing just that, did you know? Not him personally, but some of the family.’

  ‘You didn’t.’

  ‘Had no choice. Part of the job. They were testing me.’

  ‘And you passed, I’m sure.’

  ‘With flying colours. It wasn’t a choice. I didn’t want to be part of that world anymore.’

  ‘Fuck ‘em,’ said Roxie. ‘They soon vanished after mum went. Left us up shit creek.’

  ‘Yeah, so much for brotherhood amongst the criminals. They couldn’t wait to muscle in on her patch and leave us high and dry. And poor dad.’

  ‘Maybe we should’ve realised this a bit more at the time, the pair of us. Instead of acting up like we did.’

  ‘We weren’t much help were we?’ said Roxie.

  ‘More of a hindrance.’

  ‘But he had Frankie. She took over.’

  ‘And look what he did to her. Knocking her about. And she took it just to save the rest of us, without a word.’

  ‘I know,’ said Roxie. ‘Do you think I don’t feel bad? We didn’t know at the time. And we were only small. You know we can never repay Frankie for what she did for us.’

  ‘God, oh why did mum have to go like that?’ said Mags suddenly, feeling a rush of sadness at the thought of her mum, and the sister who bore so much to save her sisters.

  ‘Dad never got over mum did he?’

  ‘No. Never. Even with those other women.’

  ‘And the booze – and the drugs.’

  ‘Talking of drugs, can I do another line?’

  ‘Help yourself,’ said Margaret. ‘But leave some for me.’

  27

  It didn’t take long for Spike to get back to Margaret, and he wasn’t pleased. ‘Christ,’ he said. ‘What the hell kind of people was your brother-in-law mixing with?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s what I want to find out. So what’s the problem?‘

  ‘Those numbers you gave me were both red flagged. I could get into all kinds of trouble if anyone asks why I was making enquiries.’

  ‘Who are they then?’

  ‘Thanks for your concern.’

  ‘Spike, I know you. You don’t leave any trail.’

  ‘Maybe not. But you could’ve warned me,’ Spike said, still sounding agitated.

  ‘I thought it was bloody obvious if I was asking. I’m not using you like the Yellow Pages.’

  ‘OK, OK – same old spiky Doyle. But that date’s on, all right. You owe me one, after this.’

  ‘When this is all over.’

  Spike seemed to be placated by that. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘The London number is for a couple of businesses with offices in Kensington. Haywood Properties and Antarctic Holdings.’ he gave her the address. ‘The mobile belongs to Roger Haywood himself, and right now he’s at the office.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Margaret. ‘I really do owe you one.’

  ‘And I’ll collect.’

  Over my dead body, she thought. ‘OK, Spike,’ she said. ‘But I’m going to be busy for the foreseeable.’

  ‘I can wait.’

  ‘And you’re sure there’ll be no comeback to you?’

  ‘I’m not just a pretty face,’ he said.

  Not even that, she thought, but bit her tongue. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Thanks again. I might need some more help though. If you’re up for it,’ she said, forcing herself to speak flirtatiously.

  ‘I think I can manage that.’

  ‘Cheers then. See you.’

  ‘You can count on that. See you gorgeous.’

  * * *

  In the office of Roger Haywood, on the top floor of a glass and steel monstrosity overlooking Kensington Gardens, the CEO of Haywood Properties and Antarctic Holdings was not a happy man. Nor were the two members of his staff who were standing in front of his desk. ‘He’s got our money and you killed him,’ said Haywood. ‘That wasn’t very bright was it?’ The flash of his steely blue eyes belied his calm tone.

  ‘Not personally sir,’ said the older of the pair, a sharply and expensively-suited man in his late thirties, with fair hair.

  ‘I know you wouldn’t get your hands dirty Peter,’ said Haywood. ‘But it’s still down to you.’

  ‘It was only supposed to put the frighteners on him,’ said the other man; younger, also immaculately dressed in a dark suit.

  ‘Well I’m sure it did that,’ said Haywood. ‘It broke his bloody neck as far as I can make out.’

  ‘So what do we do?’ asked Peter.

  ‘We get the money back of course. I know Smith was dipping into it. That’s a given. We factor that into our profit margin. But what’s ours is ours, and I want it under my control. Bloody accountants. They’re more devious than a barrow load of monkeys. That secretary of his, I bet she knows where the bodies are buried. They always do. The wives don’t know shit but the secretaries run the show. Give her a tug, and get the cash back. Then deal with her.’

  ‘What happens if she doesn’t play?’ Peter asked.

  ‘Then get bloody serious. Come on Peter, you’re head of security and she’s an old woman. You know which way the ball bounces. Now get out, the pair of you, and leave me in peace.’

  The two men turned and left, closing the door gently behind them.

  28

  The inquest the next day was a solemn affair, but went pretty much as Margaret had anticipated. The sisters were all there as they’d left Peter and Susan in the charge of the neighbour again. The case was adjourned after DI Mahoney gave the details of the accident as he knew them, the truck driver who had seen Monty’s car veer off the road gave his evidence, and the police expert, when questioned about the brakes on the Jaguar, could only say that there was a problem with the servo and that the loss of fluid had caused the crash. When the coroner asked if it was possible that the brakes had been tampered with on purpose, the expert would only answer, ‘Yes sir.’

  At that, the reporter from the Guildford Star hurriedly left the court.

  It was also noted in court that Monty’s alcohol level was over the legal limit.

  Afterwards, Mahoney buttonholed Margaret and pulled her away from the family. ‘We found the number of a hotel in Lovedean in Mr Smith’s BlackBerry,’ he said. ‘We checked with the hotel and it appears that he attended a business and dinner meeting there on the night he died.’

  Margaret just nodded. She’d been well trained in giving nothing away.

  ‘Funny thing is, it seems we weren’t the only people interested in that particular meeting.’

  ‘Is that right?’

  ‘Two young women were asking about a venue for an engagement party, and seemed to know all about the meeting held there two nights earlier.’

  ‘An engagement, that’s a happy occasion, so I hear. I hope they have a good time,’ said Mags, sweetly.

  ‘Funnily enough the contact number they left was false, and the one asking all the questions fitted your description perfectly. And the other could be yo
ur sister.’ He nodded over in Roxie’s direction. ‘Unfortunately the CCTV was on the blink, otherwise that could have been a very interesting bit of viewing.’

  ‘Fancy that,’ Margaret started to say, but was cut off by Mahoney.

  ‘Don’t piss me about Miss Doyle.’

  ‘Sergeant Doyle.’

  ‘Not at the moment, and never again if you interfere in a police investigation.’

  ‘You’ve got me bang to rights Inspector.’

  ‘Listen. I know this is a bad time for you and your family, so I’m prepared to overlook the matter. But tell me, and tell me the truth. Is there anything else you’re keeping from me?’ He looked Margaret square in the eye.

  Margaret shook her head and hoped she didn’t look flustered.

  ‘I hope that’s right. Now we’ve got a warrant to search Mr Smith’s office. I don’t want to bother Mrs Smith further, so could you get the keys and let us in. We’re not going to ransack the place. It’ll just be me and a DC. We’d like to do it as soon as possible please.’

  ‘This afternoon?’

  ‘If you could. And we’ve issued production orders on his bank accounts.’

  ‘You’re being thorough.’

  ‘Of course. And listen, I had a word with a mate of mine in the Met. He says you’re good people. I know your mum’s reputation, of course. But you’re a hard worker on the force, so I hear.’

  ‘I’m flattered,’ she said sarcastically.

  Mahoney smiled. ‘But no more messing about, right?’

  Margaret didn’t know whether to cross her fingers behind her back as she nodded in reply.

  ‘Three o’clock do you this afternoon?’ asked Mahoney.

  ‘Yes. I’ll meet you there.’ Mahoney nodded.

  ‘I’d like to bring one of my other sisters.’

  ‘Good idea. A witness is always handy. We want to do this by the book.’

  ‘Three o’clock then,’ said Margaret, and they parted on the steps of the coroner’s court. She found herself watching him leave, noticing his tight arse in a fitted suit that looked Italian. Christ, she said to herself. You’ve got enough on your plate. Get it together. The last thing you need is to start wetting your knickers over some stuck up DI.