The Lipstick Killers (15 page)

44

Back in south Kensington, Peter St Cyr spoke to the
receptionist
as soon as Margaret had left. He went back to his office and used the phone, then went up to John Haywood’s office, a scowl on his face. ‘We’ve got trouble,’ he said, when the door was closed firmly behind him.

‘We always have when the police come calling,’ said Haywood.

‘That is the trouble. It wasn’t police,’ said St Cyr.

‘What do you mean?’

‘She told Sophie that she was from Kensington police station. I called them. They’ve never heard of a DC Hartley. Male or female.’

‘Isn’t it your job to know the local law?’

‘I do. Well, the higher echelons anyway. Not every lowly DC. And her ID was authentic. At least it looked like it.’

‘Maybe you’d better expand your horizons in future.’

‘Sure. But right now I need to find out exactly what her game is.’

‘You should never have accommodated her. Just fobbed her off like I did.’

‘I didn’t know what she wanted. Could have been anything. Tickets for a police social. We do try and keep in with the law. We bloody have to.’

‘But she was fake.’

St Cyr nodded.

‘Then how the devil did she get my name, and the company name? And what did she want to talk to me about?’

‘How the devil should I know?’ said St Cyr,
sardonically
.

‘Don’t try to be amusing Peter.’

‘I’m not. She knew about Smith. And the meeting before he died.’

‘Did she, by God. How come?’ spluttered Haywood.

St Cyr shrugged. ‘And she knew about Smith’s death, and his bloody secretary too. I didn’t give anything away of course, but she put me on the backfoot.’

‘You’re not paid your huge salary to be put on the backfoot Peter.’

‘Fine. But then I’m not paid enough to be an accessory to murder. Two murders.’

‘You’ve done worse where you’ve been.’

‘This is England. That was some godforsaken part of bloody Africa. It’s not the same.’

‘Calm down. We didn’t know it would come to this.’ Haywood’s brow was creased.

‘I don’t know how the hell we ever got involved with some provincial bloody amateur who I wouldn’t let handle my cleaning lady’s wages, let alone bloody millions.’

‘Precisely because no one would suspect him of doing
what he was doing.’

‘And he ripped us off.’

‘Smarter than he looked.’

‘Or we were dumber.’

‘It happens. But that’s only one of our pressing
problems
. This fake copper is the issue for now.’

‘Sure.’

‘You’d better find out who she is.’

St Cyr nodded. ‘We’ve got her on CCTV.’

‘Then get on with your job Peter.’

‘I will.’ And with that, he left.

When he was alone, Haywood picked up the phone. ‘Gina,’ he said, ‘get me Trent up here. I’ve got a job for him.’

45

Trent was in Haywood’s office almost before he put the phone down. ‘You wanted me sir,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ said Haywood, easing himself back in his leather executive’s chair. ‘There’s something I need you to do.’

‘Anything you say sir.’ Trent was not a particularly big man. And this had fooled many an opponent to
underestimate
him. But he was hard and ruthless, and had killed before and
was
prepared to kill again for anyone who would pay him, and pay him well.

Haywood smiled. ‘That’s what I like to hear. We have more problems.’ He explained about the fake police detective and her questions about Monty and his
secretary
.

Trent frowned. ‘But surely that’s Peter’s project.’

‘I think Peter’s conscience may be getting to him.’

‘Well, he’s not as young as he used to be.’

‘He seems to be rather squeamish about this job.’

‘I’ve never known Peter to be that.’

‘Times change. People change. Peter’s on the hunt for our impostor. But you have other fish to fry.’

‘So what do you need sir?’

Haywood explained what he wanted and mentioned a bonus that made Trent’s head spin with thoughts of a new car and even a new flat. The fact that it enmeshed him in a conspiracy that could see him in jail for a very long time didn’t even enter his head.

46

Margaret and Roxie stopped for a late lunch on the way back to Guildford, choosing a gastro pub off the A3 where they could keep an eye on the car from the window of the restaurant. ‘What’s the plan?’ asked Roxie over the meal.

‘No plan,’ said Margaret. ‘We’ll have to busk it. Soon as we get back to the house I’ll call Mahoney. See if he’s got any news.’

‘Would he tell you if he had?’

‘I think so.’

‘My, my, he is a naughty boy – or he just wants to get in your knickers.’

But when they arrived back at Sharon’s, things had gone from bad to worse.

She and Frankie were waiting for them, huddled together, white faced on the sofa. There was no sign of the children.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Margaret.

‘I had a phone call,’ said Sharon, in a voice barely
above a whisper. ‘A man. He wants money.’

‘What?’

‘He said that Monty had stolen money. Lots of money. And if I don’t pay…’

‘When?’

‘Half an hour ago.’

‘Why didn’t you call me?’

‘I didn’t know what you were doing. I didn’t think.’

‘Well we’re here now. Have you told anyone else? The coppers outside?’ Margaret said anxiously.

‘No. I wanted to see both of you first.’

‘What else did this man say?’

‘If I didn’t pay he’d hurt the children. He knew all about us. Even knew their names,’ Roxie gasped.

‘Where are they?’

‘Upstairs in Susan’s room. I didn’t want them to get scared,’ said Frankie.

‘Do you know anything about this money?’ asked Margaret, softly.

‘You know Monty never talked about his business. Well, only to say if it was a good year or a bad one.’

‘And nothing about Antarctic Holdings or a bloke called Haywood?’

Sharon looked mystified. ‘Who are they?’

‘Someone I think Monty was working for. Someone dodgy.’

‘Leave this to the police Mags, they know what they’re doing,’ interjected Frankie.

‘We could all be dead by the time they figure it out,’ Margaret retorted.

‘What am I going to do?’ wailed Sharon. ‘I’m scared for the kids.’

‘We’ll have to get you out of here, somewhere safe. You,
and
the kids,’ said Mags.

‘Monty’s mum’s?’

‘No. We don’t want anyone else in harm’s way. It’ll have to be a safe house somewhere.’

‘The man told me not to go to the police,’ said Sharon worriedly.

‘Course he did. But I am. I have to. I’m going upstairs to talk to that copper who came here. Roxie. You come as well. Bring the bags. If the phone goes again, come and get me immediately.’

The two women went to Margaret’s room, leaving Frankie comforting a trembling Sharon. ‘This is getting out of hand,’ Mags said, her voice grim.

‘Tell me about it,’ said Roxie, unloading the bag of guns and bullets. ‘Lock and load,’ and she broke open a box of .45 ammunition, and started to fill one of the spare clips of the big Colt. ‘Whoever’s foolish enough to mess with the Doyles needs to back off. But this will help them get that message.’

‘Little sis, you bring a tear to my eye. Mum would have been so proud.’

47

Margaret took out her mobile and dialled in the number Mahoney had given her. He answered at once. ‘There’s been a development,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘Someone’s threatened Sharon. They’re demanding money. Money she hasn’t got.’

‘Threatened her how?’

‘Someone called when I was out today.’

‘I’ll be right there.’

Mahoney was as good as his word, and they opened the door to him ten minutes later. He and Margaret took Sharon into the living room. Sharon was still shaking and deathly white. ‘Have you used the phone since he called?’ he asked, to which Sharon shook her head.

Mahoney called to the police station on his mobile to see if they could track the call. ‘What did this man say?’ he asked.

‘He said Monty had stolen money. He wanted it back. I told him I didn’t know anything about any money, and
then he threatened my children.’

‘No. Just said that he’d hurt them – and me. He told me not to go to the police. They won’t hurt them, will they,’ she asked Mahoney, beseechingly.

‘No, don’t worry, you did the right thing. We’re going to look after you and the kids, but we need to get you somewhere safe.’

‘I don’t want to leave here,’ Sharon wailed. ‘There’s the funeral. Funerals, now Joyce is dead.’

‘We’ll handle all that,’ said Margaret.

‘And school…?’

‘I think school is out for the moment,’ said Mahoney. ‘I’ve already got a place in mind. After what’s happened, and now this…’ He didn’t finish.

‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Sharon. ‘I just don’t like leaving. What will Peter and Susan think?’

‘It’s the best for all of you,’ said Margaret, holding her sister’s hand. ‘Believe me.’

‘What sort of place?’ asked Sharon.

‘A house. A cottage really. Out in the country. But not too far. It’ll be an adventure for your children,’ said Mahoney.

‘I suppose,’ Sharon said, bleakly.

‘Why don’t you go and pack,’ suggested Margaret. ‘Tell the kids it’s a holiday.’

Sharon nodded. ‘I suppose so. If you think I should Mags.’

‘I do love, honestly,’ said Mags, cajoling. ‘We just need to get you somewhere safe. You and the kids. This is the best place for you, under the circumstances.’

‘Then I will. Thank you Sergeant.’

‘I’m just sorry it’s come to this,’ said Mahoney.

‘Not as sorry as I am.’ And with that, Sharon got up and left the room.

48

Mahoney and Margaret were still sitting in the living room when his mobile rang. ‘Anything?’ he said into it, obviously recognising the caller. ‘Bugger,’ he said after a moment. ‘Thanks anyway.’

He shut it off, then shook his head at Margaret. ‘Call box,’ he said. ‘London. Trafalgar Square, if that means anything.’

‘We might have guessed.’

‘And what have you been up to?’

‘Went back home, got some stuff. Clothes, you know.’

‘Anything else?’

Margaret shook her head. She thought it best not to mention her visit to Antarctic Holdings, and certainly not the fact that she was now armed. ‘What about you? Have you heard anything more about the case?’ she asked.

‘Like I said yesterday, I’m on the sidelines. But at least I could fix up a place for your sister and her children to stay.’

‘I’m grateful. This is getting out of hand. Anything from Monty’s office or Joyce’s place?’

‘Nothing. Not that I’m supposed to know anything. But I keep my ear to the ground. By the way, about the funerals. They might have to wait a while. We don’t want to release the bodies right away. Is that going to cause problems?’

‘There’s nothing that can be done if it does,’Mags was resigned.

‘Yes. I’m sorry about that.’

‘Not your fault Mahoney. Anything more on this Haywood character?’

‘He’s a bit dodgy to say the least. South African but he left when apartheid fell apart. Bit of a colonial our Mr Haywood. Liked the
status quo
if you know what I mean. And not the band.’

‘Liked the natives in their place you mean?’

‘Exactly. Had fingers in diamond mines and all sorts. Apparently didn’t treat the workers too well. A lot of people died on his watch. Some from accidents that could have been prevented. Haywood wasn’t big on health and safety, to say the least. And then there were others.’

‘Others?’

‘Yeah. The bosses don’t like the workers trying to smuggle out the gems. Rough justice if they’re
discovered
. A bit of torture. A bit of ultra-violence. A bit of bodies being found buried in shallow graves with their stomachs cut open in case they swallowed the
merchandise
.’

‘Lovely. So what was the connection to Monty?’

‘Your brother-in-law did some work for him
apparently
.
Small beer though, according to our enquiries.’

Exactly what that smooth bugger St Cyr told me, thought Margaret. ‘Do you believe that?’ she asked Mahoney.

‘Until I learn something different, I do. Now, I’ll stick around and take your family to our safe house. Is that OK?’

‘Of course. You’re doing us a big favour.’

‘My pleasure,’ he said with an involuntary grin, which he quickly stifled.