Lipstick and Lies (56 page)

‘We
’ve just had one,’ said Morag.

‘We could ha
ve another,’ I said hopefully.

‘Let’s search Stevie’s house first,’ said Morag.
‘There will be time for coffee later.
And anyway, if you have too many you’ll only be weeing for
England
.
You know what your bladder is like
if you overdose on caffeine.’

‘Charming,’ I grumbled.
‘Well put the kettle on anyway Nell.
We won’t be long.’

‘Will do.
’
S
he took Eddie and Henry from us.
‘Come with me boys
.
You can keep
Rosie company.’

We let ourselves out of Nell’s house and walked the short distance to Stevie’s. When I was married to Stevie and living next door to Nell, Stevie had had an affair with a neighbour at the other end of the cul-de-sac and moved in with her.
Weeks later
,
when their relationship had gone pear-shaped, the woman had wanted to move away and start afresh.
Stevie had ended up buying her house.
In the early days of our split, it had meant the children were never far away from either of their parents.
As we walked up the pathway, I was surprised to see the place looking perfectly normal.
Somehow
I’d been expecting
the house to
be
wrapped in red and white caution tape
with
police signs
prohibiting
access.
But then again, no accident
had occurred.
Nor burglary.
There was no
crime to investigate.
Just a person who had seemin
gly disappeared into thin air.

I slotted my key into the door
’s barrel lock
.
Inside, p
ost had been picked up
from
the doormat and stacked neatly on the hall table.
The house had a stillness about it
.
De
spite
its nooks and crannies being
prodded and poked
about
,
the silence
signified nobody had lived
with
in it for days.
Morag brought up the rear and shut the door
behind
us.
I looked around
.

‘What exactly
are we looking for?’ I asked.

‘Who knows?
Just peer into every cupboard, pull out every drawer, and
be on the lookout
for anything
...odd
.
And anything
belong
ing to a female,’ Morag added.

‘You’re forgetting this was
Charlotte
’s home too,’ I reminded Morag.
‘And she still
has some
bits and pieces here.
Who’s to say that a hair clip in the shower isn
’t hers rather than Selina’s?’

‘We’ll evaluate everything we come across.
Let’s check that pile of mail for
starters.
’
Morag began sifting thr
ough envelopes.

‘I doubt you’re going to find a letter addressed to Selina,’ I shook my head.
‘
I’m sure the police
have already examined
the mail anyway
.’
I moved away from the hall table and took to the stairs.
‘I’ll
check
the bedrooms.
You search the do
wnstairs.’

‘Okay,’ said Morag
,
and moved down th
e hallway towards the kitchen.

I walked along the landing.
Straight ahead was the
m
aster bedroom.
I might as well start in that room.
I
paused
in the doorway
, surveying the
functional rectangular space
.
Everything was neat and tidy apart from a pair of Stevie’s jeans slung across the bed.
Picking them up, I
automatically
went to one of
the fitted wardrobes to put them away.
S
liding back one of the wardrobe doors,
I
found a
n empty
hanger.
Clothes hung in a regimental line.
At the bottom, shoes were placed in an organised arrangement
.
Every single pair belonged to
Stevie.
I slotted the jeans
’
hanger
onto the rail and
shut the wardrobe door
.
Walking around one side of the bed, I stopped to investigate
the bedside table.
Nothing looked out of the ordinary.
I brushed some dust from my hands.
Ahead
was
the master bedroom’s
en-suite.
Going into the
small
shower room
,
I
explored
the fitted storage system that housed the sink and ran the length of one wall.
Deodorants.
Shampoo.
Bottles of hair conditioner.
Hair-dye.
I picked up the carton.
Black
hair-dye.
Interesting.
Charlotte
was blonde
,
so my hunch about Stevie colouring his hair was
correct.
A part of me felt intrusive going through his belongings.
Like I was violating his private space.
But then again, I told myself as I opened the cupboard over the sink, if the boot were on the other foot and I was missing, I’d be wanting everybody sifting through my stuff for whatever clues they could come up with.
I stared at the shelves before me.
Toothpaste.
A toothbrush.
Pink.
Not Stevie’s.
Quite apart from the fact that he wouldn’t buy himself a pink toothbrush, I knew that
Charlotte
had taken his toothbrush to the police station for DNA purposes.
But
surely
this particular toothbrush
wasn’t
Charlotte
’s?
When
a woman moved out
,
the first thing she’d chuck in her suitcase would be her make-up, skin care products and most definitely her toothbrush.
Was this Selina’s toothbrush?
Should I pop it in a plastic bag and go off to the police station waggling it at PC Thomson and PC Smith and say, ‘Look!
See what I
’ve
found?’
Or
– hang on – maybe
it would be best to leave it here.
As proper evidence.
If I removed it
,
then it might not be construed as proof of her having been here.
Perhaps I should
ask Morag’s opinion.
I
retraced my steps to the landing
.

‘Morag?’ I leant over the banister rails.
‘Come up here a minute!’

Morag appeared in the hallway.
‘
Have y
ou found something?’

‘Possibly.’

She took the stairs two at a time and followed
me into the bathroom.

‘Lo
ok!’ I pointed at the cabinet.

Morag’s eyes widened.
‘Oh my goodness!
Clever girl Cass
.
’
S
he leant across the toilet bowl and whipped a bit of tissue
off
the loo roll holder.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked.
‘I
was referring to this.
’
I pointed to the toothbrush.
‘
I think it might be Selina’s.’

‘Bugger the toothbrush
.
’
Morag covered her finger tips with the toilet paper and reached into the cabinet.
‘Don’t you recognise this Cass?’
She began carefully nudging
a small
bottle around on the shelf.
‘When we were peering through Selina’s
apartment
window, she had identical bottles
to this on her kitchen table.’

I
frowned.
Flipped back through
the pages of
my memory.
‘You’re right,’ I nodded.

Morag kept gently turning the bottle until its label was facing us.
She straightened up.
Let out a shaky breath.
‘Bloody hell.
How did
the police
miss this?’

‘What is it?’ I asked.

‘I do believe,’ she pointed at the bottle, ‘that this is the sort of thing some unscrupulous individuals use to spi
ke drinks.’

My mouth dropped open.
My recent spectacular pass out at the
Oxo
Tower
was still very much to the forefront of my mind.
I stared at the label.
In neat black typeset was the inscription
G
amma-Hydroxybutyric Ac
i
d
.

‘What shall we do?’ I asked Morag.
‘I mean, we can’t exactly prove thi
s stuff belongs to Selina
.
The Old Bill wil
l think it belongs to Stevie.’

‘What the hell is
GHB
doing i
n his cabinet?’ Morag frowned.

‘I’ve no idea.
You know, when he phoned me he sounded so dazed.
Like he was drunk or drugged.
And now we’ve seen this, I’m wondering if Selina used it on Stevie to drug him.
But why would she leave it in his cabinet?
’

Morag fished in the pocket of her jeans and took out her mobile phone.
‘
Heaven only knows
.
B
ut
I’m going to take a picture of it on that shelf
next to the pink
toothbrush.
Get out the way Cass and give me some
space
. This shower room isn’t big enough for the two of us with my elbows
sticking out at right angles.’

I
left Morag to it and returned
to the
m
aster bedroom.
I wandered over to the window.
Looking out
at the cul-de-sac below, I wondered where Stevie was right now.
And then I froze.
A car had turned into the road.
A bright green Mazda MX-5 convertible.
And it was coming this way.
I watched in horror as Selina’s car bounced gently over the
road’s
sleeping p
olicemen.

‘I do not believe it.
’
I paled and
stepped smartly
back from the window.

Morag stuck her head out the bathroom doorway.
‘What’s the matter?’

‘We
ha
ve a visitor.’
I jerked my head at the window.
‘Se
lina.’

Morag strode over to the window and peered c
arefully
around the curtain.

‘Oh buggerations,’ she hissed.
I risked a peek over Morag’s shoulder.
Selina’s car had now slowed to a stop outside Nell’s house.
A pair of eyes were studying Morag’s car.
And the number plate.
‘Oh double buggerations,’ Morag groaned.
The Mazda began to move again.

‘What are we going to do?’ I squeaked, panic rising.
We didn’t have time to make an escape out the back door.
Selina’s car
was now on Stevie’s driveway.

‘Nothing,’ said Morag calmly.
‘Just be quiet and don’t let her see us.
She can’t get in after all.
She doesn’t have a key.’
With that Selina extracted a bunch of keys from her coat pocket and extended one towards the lock.
‘Triple buggerations.
She
does
have a key.
’

‘Shit!’ I yelped.
And nearly did.
‘W
hat are we going to do?’

‘Hide.
’
Morag shoved me towards the
fitted
wardrobe.