The Lipstick Killers (9 page)

24

Roxie jumped when Margaret got into the car. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Miles away.’

‘Is something wrong?’ asked Margaret.

‘Not really.’

‘Not my business?’

‘Don’t be daft. Just things. What did you see over there? Anything useful?’

‘No. Just the crash site. Not a nice thing, but I needed to see it.’

‘Once a copper eh?’

‘Something like that.’

Margaret took out the card from the hotel, leant over and punched the post code into the Sat-Nav. ‘Used one of these before?’ she asked.

‘Course,’ said Roxie. ‘I live in Spain, not on Mars. We do have them there.’

‘OK, clever clogs,’ said Margaret.

‘That’s what we used to call you,’ said Roxie. ‘When we were kids.’

‘Not very clever now, am I? No job prospects, no man. No kids.’

‘There’s always Mahoney,’ said Roxie with a grin.

‘Bollocks.’

‘Anyway, you’re not alone,’ said Roxie. ‘Not on the man and kids front anyway. Look at the four of us – only two kids between us.’

‘Yeah. You would’ve thought Frankie would have had a brood by now. A natural mum.’

‘She does have a brood. All of us. It’s just as well really, you remember how much of a bastard Foster turned out to be, smacking her round and drinking all the time. Good job that marriage didn’t last very long. Christ only knows what monsters any kids of his would have been.’

‘You’re right,’ said Margaret. ‘I could never work out what she saw in that arsehole.’

‘You’re not the only one. Shame she never found anyone else though. She’s got so much love to give.’

‘Enough of that. You’ll have me in tears. Let’s go.’

Roxie started up the car, waited for a gap in the traffic and headed off. ‘So what’s our story for the hotel?’

‘Engagement dinner I reckon,’ replied Margaret. ‘Half a dozen girls out on the razz. Business women letting their hair down, lots of food and wine. We’ve heard that it’s a decent place and we’ve got cash to spend. Course it might just be a B&B, but I doubt it. The card’s all embossed and copper plate and I’m guessing the people that Monty worked for wouldn’t slum it in some poxy venue. Just follow my lead. We’ll busk it.’

‘One problem though’ said Roxie. ‘Neither of us has a ring on.’

Mags sighed. ‘Then keep your bloody hands in your pockets.’

‘OK. Just one other thing. Your boots are covered in mud. Doesn’t look too clever if you know what I mean. Especially if it
is
posh, and we’re supposed to be,’ said Roxie smugly.

‘Yeah thanks sis. I’ve got some wet wipes in my bag so I’ll clean them when we get there. Since when did you turn into the fashion police, anyway?’

‘Just trying to help,’ said Roxie with a giggle.

They drove down the A3 until the Sat-Nav directed them off to a roundabout under a flyover, and then onto b-roads until they passed Lovedean itself, a picturesque village that could have doubled as the location for some TV series set before World War 2. A mile or so later they arrived at a pair of large ornate gates which led onto a driveway of an imposing old house set in manicured lawns. ‘I thought so,’ said Margaret. ‘A country house hotel. All the rage fifteen years ago.’

‘Doesn’t look too bad now,’ said Roxie as she slid the car to a halt on a gravelled turnaround in front of the building.

Margaret jumped out and cleaned the mud off her boots, before the pair of them went up a short flight of stone steps and into the foyer of the hotel.

The interior was cool and plush, marble-floored with leather sofas dotted around, all with low tables in front of them. It was deserted at this time of day, apart from a young blonde behind the reception desk. Margaret led the way.

‘Good morning,’ said the blonde, whose name tag read ‘Josie’.

‘Good morning,’ said Margaret. ‘I wonder if you can help.’

‘I’d be happy to.’

‘We’re looking for a venue for a dinner. An
engagement
party for my friend here. Old friends. All women.’

Roxie smiled, but remained silent.

‘That certainly sounds like something we can help with,’ said Josie, warmly. ‘Were you looking for one of our private dining rooms?’

‘That sounds perfect. We’re a bit old for a night in a stretch limo wearing a veil covered in condoms, so we’re looking for something a little discreet and classy, and we’ve heard good things about the hotel. In fact, some friends of ours were here – the night before last I think,’ Margaret went on.

‘Really,’ Josie said, quizzically.

‘Yes. A group of gentlemen who had a business meeting here recently.’

The blonde punched something into her computer,’ and said. ‘Oh, that would be the Haywood party. Regulars. Yes, they had a private room. Dinner for five.’

Gotcha, thought Margaret. It must be them. ‘That’s right. They were very complimentary of the food.’

‘The chef will be pleased,’ said the blonde. ‘He came from The Savoy, you know.’

‘Well that’s it,’ said Roxie. ‘Sounds just right for my friends.’

‘How many would there be?’ asked the receptionist, smiling.

‘Six or seven,’ said Margaret. ‘And of course we’ll need rooms.’

‘Excellent.’

‘Could we see the private room?’ said Margaret.

‘I’m afraid the manager’s not available at the moment, and I’m all on my own. If you could just wait for a few minutes…’

‘Just for a second,’ said Margaret. ‘We’re in a bit of a rush. Work, you know. We’ve got to get back to the city before the traffic hits.’

The blonde looked perplexed. ‘Please,’ said Roxie in a wheedling tone. ‘It’s so important to find the right
ambience
.’

‘OK,’ said the blonde. ‘I’ll have to be quick though.’

‘Thank you,’ said Roxie.

The blonde came out from behind her desk. ‘It’s upstairs,’ she said, pointing at an imposing staircase. ‘Then just down the corridor. There’s a spectacular view of the river. It’s all lit up at night, looks beautiful.’

‘Lovely,’ said Roxie, all smiles, warming to her role.

‘Can I just use the loo?’ said Margaret.

‘Of course. There’s one through there in the bar,’ said the blonde indicating a door in the corner.

‘I’ll catch you up,’ said Margaret.

‘Top of the stairs, turn left, third on the right,’ said the blonde, and headed for the staircase, Roxie in tow.

Margaret went to the door of the bar, opened it, and stood behind it for a moment whilst she waited for them to disappear. As soon as the coast was clear she headed back to the desk, spun the computer screen round and saw the booking for Haywood. No address, just a phone number. It wasn’t a mobile number, so not the one on the card, and the notation ‘paying by cash’.

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.’