The Lipstick Killers (13 page)

37

When Margaret got back to the house, a different car with two passengers was parked across the street. She nodded to the new police guards and went inside, where Roxie was waiting up for her, watching TV in the living room. ‘Dirty stop out,’ she said by way of a greeting.

‘Are you my mother now?’ asked Margaret.

‘More like Frankie. Mum never had a chance to wait up for us, did she?’

‘Sorry love, I didn’t think.’

‘Don’t matter,’ said Roxie, brightening up. ‘So, how did your date go?’

‘It wasn’t a date,’ said her sister, but avoiding her eyes by making a show of hanging up her coat and rustling through her bag.

‘Just a drink, yeah?’ She looked at her watch. ‘So what time do you call this?’

Margaret laughed at her mock-serious tone, and impulsively went over and embraced her sister.
‘Thought I’d wait up for you,’ said Roxie. ‘London, tomorrow. Right?’

Margaret nodded.

‘I’ll kip on the sofa. Don’t want to disturb Frankie by going back to hers.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yep. I’ve slept on a lot less comfortable in my time. And besides, we’ve got protection. Makes me feel all secure, knowing that there’s two beefy blokes sitting outside to protect us. I told Frankie she should stay too, but you know her. Said we had to live our lives.’

‘Listen Roxie,’ said Margaret, suddenly serious. ‘This thing could get nasty. Extremely nasty. What someone did to Joyce…’ She didn’t finish.

‘I can cope,’ said Roxie. ‘You think opening a business on the Costa del Crime is a piece of cake? A woman on her own. I’ve had my share of hard visitors looking for a slice of the cake, and some of them wouldn’t take no for an answer.’ She wondered if this was the time to tell Margaret everything, but hesitated again.

Margaret shook her head. ‘Dolly, what have you been up to? I never realised,’ she said.

‘You weren’t supposed to. None of you. But for a while I was sleeping with a shotgun under the bed.’ And a Derringer in the cash drawer, she thought.

‘Blimey!’

‘Blimey’s right. Now listen. It’s getting late, we should both get to bed. This film is crap, and I need some sleep if we’re going to take on the world – and shopping on Oxford street.’

38

Margaret was up before anyone else and woke Roxie with a cup of tea. ‘I’m going off to give my statement to Mahoney about finding Joyce,’ she said, as her sister sat up in bed, honey-blonde hair sitting in a halo above her head. ‘Then we’ll go to London.’

‘Fine. I’ll get dressed. Thanks for the tea, sis,’ said Roxie, in a voice fuzzy with sleep.

The two left the house before Sharon and the children came down,Margaret leaving a note on the kitchen table to tell them they’d be back in the afternoon. She drove down to the police station and left Roxie in the car in the visitor’s parking area. ‘I won’t be long,’ she said.

‘Give him a kiss for me,’ said Roxie, already fiddling with the tuner for the radio.

Margaret just sighed in exasperation.

She went to the front desk and asked for Mahoney, who came down a few minutes later and took her to an empty office. She recounted the story of finding Joyce’s body and he transcribed it onto a computer, printed it
out and passed it over so she could sign the bottom of the page. ‘What now?’ he asked.

‘I’m off to London with Roxie to pick up a few things and have a scout round.’

‘Remember – be careful.’

‘I’ll be okay, but thanks for your concern.’

‘Let me know what you find if anything,’ he said.

She nodded in reply and got up to leave, but before she left asked him, ‘Anything yet on Joyce’s murder?’

‘Nothing,’ he replied.

‘You will let me know? A favour for a favour, remember?’

‘I remember, and I will.’

‘You’ve got my number. Just call me and I’ll be there.’

‘Thanks Mahoney – Mike,’ she smiled at him and left the way she’d come in.

39

Roxie and Mags headed up the A3 through the late rush hour and managed to arrive in Battersea before eleven. Margaret parked up in a resident’s bay and they went to her flat. ‘Nice digs,’ said Roxie when they got inside.

‘It does for me. It’s just a rental. Hard to get on the property ladder in London on a copper’s wage.’

‘A bit spartan though.’

‘What do you mean? No fluffy cushion covers or stuffed animals on the bed?’

‘Something like that. In fact there’s nothing much at all really.’

‘Send me a straw donkey in a sombrero when you get home then. It’ll cheer the place up.’

‘Don’t get antsy. I only said,’ said Roxie, giving her sister a hard look.

‘Too much sometimes.’

‘Calm down sis, I didn’t know you were that
sensitive
.’

‘So what’s the plan?’ asked Roxie, changing the subject.

‘I’ll get some clean things, and we take my guns and I’ll go for a sniff round.’

‘This Antarctic Holdings place?’

‘Well, that’s where we start.’

‘You gonna go on your own?’

‘In the first place. It’s not for you this Dolly.’

‘Will you be armed?’ said Roxie, looking
apprehensive
.

‘No. Not immediately. It’s not a good idea until I’ve seen what kind of security they have. I’ll leave the guns with you.’

‘So, where are they now?’

‘Come see.’

Margaret led the way to the gun safe on the wall, opened the door and stepped back.

‘Empty,’ said Roxie, disappointment in her voice.

‘Don’t you believe it,’ said Margaret and manipulated a small lever that opened the false bottom, revealing her two illegal weapons and ammunition. ‘Go ahead,’ she said, with a smile.

Roxie hefted the Colt .45. ‘Chase told me his
granddaddy
had one of these,’ she said, wistfully. ‘Antique.’

‘They might be old, but clean, and untraceable.’

‘I wasn’t complaining,’ said her sister, working the action with an oily click. It moved smoothly. ‘Sweet. You look after them.’

‘Never know when you’ll need a gun,’ said Margaret. ‘You sure that one’s not too big for you?’

The gun looked massive in Roxie’s little hand, the dull grey metal bringing her hot pink nails into sharp relief. She shook her head. ‘I like them big,’ she said. ‘The bigger the better. Guns and blokes.’

‘Don’t be disgusting,’ said Margaret, but she laughed anyway, as she took the .38 revolver from its hiding place. ‘I’ll get a bag for this lot.’

Roxie began to take out the boxes of ammunition revealing a leather wallet at the bottom of the box. ‘What’s this?’ she asked.

‘My other identity,’ said Margaret. ‘A snide warrant card. That’s how I intend to get inside Antarctic Holdings and find our Mr Haywood.’

‘Blimey, you’re showing our hand aren’t you?’

‘If I don’t, the real police will catch up to us pretty damn quickly.’

‘So what are you going to say?’

Margaret shrugged. ‘I’ll think of something. Come on, let me find some clothes, get these stashed away and let’s go.’

‘Got any more coke?’ asked Roxie, a glint in her eye.

‘You’re a glutton aren’t you?’

‘Well, have you?’

‘A bit.’

‘Lay one out then. A livener for the day ahead and all that.’

Margaret went into the kitchen, took down a container marked ‘mixed herbs,’ opened it, and dug out a wrap. ‘Not very original,’ she said. ‘But it does.’

She laid out two long lines on the kitchen top and the women snarfed up one each.

‘So good,’ said Roxie. ‘Can we get some more?’

‘Fancy a trip to my drug dealer, do you?’ said Margaret.

‘I love the low life.’

‘OK. On the way back. It’s a bit early for him, he
doesn’t get to bed until 5am most nights.’

‘Lovely,’ said Roxie. ‘Might as well finish this up then.’

‘Sure.’

Margaret found a baseball cap in her wardrobe, plus a scarf to wind round her chin and a pair of sunglasses to hide her eyes. ‘Look like me?’ She asked her sister.

‘No chance,’ said Roxie.

‘Perfect then. Let’s go.’

40

Once in the car, the guns and luggage stashed in the boot,Margaret headed across the river in the direction of Kensington.

‘Do you think he’ll fall for it? asked Roxie. The drugs had made her more alert but her heartbeat had slowed after the initial buzz. ‘This Haywood bloke. You reckon just marching in and giving him the third degree will work?’

‘Why not? I do a good impersonation of a copper you know. At least I should do.’

They found a parking meter near the office block and Margaret left Roxie in the driver’s seat of the car. ‘Don’t know how long I’ll be,’ she said. ‘You stay here. Keep the meter fed. Don’t want the car towed away. It would be embarrassing trying to explain what’s in the boot.’

‘I’ll be OK,’ said her sister. ‘I promise I won’t move.’

Margaret climbed out of the driver’s seat, pushed coins into the meter, and walked the short distance to the block. According to the register in the foyer, Antarctic Holdings was on the top three floors, nineteen to
twenty-one. Margaret was impressed at the slick entrance to the imposing glass and steel building. She took the lift to the nineteenth, the floors above being blocked. Better security than Monty’s, she thought.

When the lift doors opened she was in another foyer, faced by a reception desk manned by a pretty young black woman. She walked across and the woman smiled. ‘Good morning,’ she said through red-glossed lips. ‘How can I be of help?’

‘I’d like to see a Mr Haywood,’ said Margaret.

‘Do you have an appointment?’

‘No.’

‘Then I’m afraid that’s impossible.’ The smile had slipped slightly.

Margaret took out the fake warrant card and flashed it in front of the woman’s face.

‘Detective Constable Joan Hartley, Kensington station,’ she said. ‘Police business.’

The receptionist’s smile had gone completely. ‘I’ll ring his secretary,’ she said, picked up the phone and punched in three digits. She waited for a moment before speaking, ‘Gina, there’s a police woman here to see Mr Haywood.’

There was a pause. ‘I see,’ said the woman and replaced the receiver. ‘I’m afraid Mr Haywood is out of the office today.’

Margaret didn’t believe a word of it, but there was little she could do. ‘Is there anyone else available?’ she pressed. ‘This is important. Very.’

‘I could try Mr Sincere,’ said the woman, obviously flustered.

‘Sincere?’ said Margaret.

‘Saint Cyr,’ the woman explained. ‘Pronounced Sincere.’Margaret could tell by her tone she wasn’t keen. ‘Head of security.’

‘He’ll do,’ said Margaret.

Once again the woman used the phone but this time she got a positive result. ‘He’ll be down in two minutes,’ she said, her tone icy. ‘Would you care to take a seat?’