The Red Dahlia

Chapter Eighteen

The Richmond Hotel car park was crawling with police vans, fifteen in all: there were the forensic team, the SOCOs — scene-of-crime officers — the murder team, the Territorial Support Group, and another six officers drafted in to assist. They had two sets of tracker dogs and handlers; there was also a caterer's truck, all on standby. The hotel had been very accommodating but had asked that they keep as quiet as possible, so as not to disturb residents; opportunely, the hotel was having a lot of construction work done, so there were very few guests.

Everyone gathered in the hotel's ballroom, where rows of chairs had been set out. Lewis was pinning up detailed diagrams of the entire estate when Langton entered. It was two forty-five a.m. He looked tired and anxious and wore a dark grey suit and white shirt and a tie. He had divided the teams up: one group would focus on the cottage, another on the barn, and the largest group would concentrate on the main house. They knew from the surveillance team that Charles Wickenham was at home; Edward and his fianc�e were at their cottage.

Langton pointed to the aerial photographs.

'Going to give you all a quick history lesson. The main house was built around 1540 and was owned by a high-ranking Catholic family. The sixteenth century was the period of the persecution of Catholic priests. There was a piece of anti-priest legislation that created a massive number of English Catholic martyrs: in those days, harbouring any Catholic priest was seen as treason and was punishable by death. The reason I've brought this up is that it's quite possible, therefore, that the house contains a lot of hidden rooms and boltholes. There's a property of similar age in Kidderminster which has over ten hidden priest holes — beside chimneys, beneath stairs, under cellar floors — so we search very thoroughly.'

Langton showed them the plans of the barn. 'This was recently converted from an old maize barn: it's massive in size and there was a large cellar beneath that. According to the council that gave permission for the renovation, it was converted into a gym with a whirlpool bath, hot tub and swimming pool. We have to check out they didn't leave an area for our suspect to use as some kind of torture chamber. It could also have been used to dismember our first victim, Louise Pennel. Our suspect has to have had somewhere to cut and drain her body and I think it is possibly somewhere in this estate.'

Langton continued until he was satisfied that everyone knew their jobs. He checked his watch; it was by now three-fifteen a.m. Operation Red Dahlia was ready to roll.

They travelled in convoy, led by Langton in an unmarked patrol car, accompanied by Lewis and Barolli. Anna followed with three other members of the team in the car behind, then came the vans and people carriers, plus special vehicles to provide lighting for the officers. It was still dark and there was little traffic on the roads. They made the journey to Wickenham's village in three-quarters of an hour. By the time they hit the small winding lane, it was a little lighter, but the sky was still overcast and slate grey. They moved slowly over the cattle grids until the lead car stopped and moved into a layby so that one of the big double-fronted trucks could move ahead. Langton did not want any signal to be given that they were there, so he was not wasting time ringing doorbells. He ordered the truck to smash straight through the gates.

By four-thirty, they were moving down the winding pathway with the overhanging trees towards the main horseshoe drive of the house. The vehicles peeled off to the cottage and round to the barn and stables. Everyone had their duty lists. The raid was worked out with such precision that no one needed to ask what was coming once they were inside.

Langton went up to the main front door of the Hall. He used the old iron knocker to rap so hard, it echoed. Lined up behind him were Anna and Barolli and ten SOCO officers, plus the Territorial Support Group ready to secure the area.

At almost exactly the same time, Lewis and five SOCO officers knocked on the door of the thatched cottage.

Three more officers moved to the barn area, and the dogs and handlers were heading to the stables.

Virtually in unison, the officers showed their warrants. First to be read his rights was a shaken Charles Wickenham. Langton told him that he was being arrested under suspicion of the murders of Louise Pennel and Sharon Bilkin. Second was Edward Wickenham and then, screaming with fright, Gail Harrington: both were arrested on suspicion of their involvement in the murders of Louise Pennel and Sharon Bilkin.

The officers waited for the suspects to dress; two females remained with the hysterical Gail Harrington as she changed out of her nightdress. Another officer waited with Edward as he dressed. He kept on saying he wanted to speak to his father, but no one replied; he became so angry that at one point he was warned that, if he did not come quietly, he would be handcuffed. He then changed his tune, demanding a solicitor. He was told he would be allowed to make a call from the station.

Both Edward and his fianc�e were driven from the estate fifteen minutes later. Charles Wickenham was refusing to get dressed; he said that, by law, he was to be allowed to remain at his property to oversee any items that were to be removed. Langton conceded, on the understanding that there would be a uniformed officer with him at all times. Now dressed, Wickenham was taken into the drawing room; he even had the audacity to ask if he could be given some breakfast. If anything, he seemed amused by the activity. At some point, he was given a cup of tea but he had only a moment to drink it before he was handcuffed, the two manacles linked by a solid bar. His hands were cuffed in front of his body and he was warned that if he created any kind of trouble, he would be cuffed behind his back.

'I won't be any trouble. I can finish my tea, even with these hideous things attached,' he smirked, as he sat reading The Times as if nothing untoward was occurring.

The search began. The officers allocated the cottage went from room to room. They stripped back carpets and emptied cupboards and wardrobes. They went up into the loft and, by torchlight, did an inch-by-inch search of masses of old furniture. They climbed into the old chimney above the open fireplace. They checked walls for recesses and any hidden rooms. They found a stack of family albums, pornographic magazines and videos but, after three and a half hours, they were otherwise coming up empty-handed.

The housekeeper, Mrs Hedges, was frightened and confused. Anna asked that she remain in her room until further notice. The forensic officers began their search of the main house on the ground floor and worked upwards, combing the place for bloodstains or any other incriminating evidence.

By twelve o'clock, the search was still very much in progress. Langton moved from the main house over to the cottage, disappointed that they had had no results so far; however, when he looked into Gail Harrington's bedroom and saw the jewellery boxes, he called Anna to get her over. Sharon Bilkin had sold a diamond-and-emerald brooch to the antique dealer; here were the earrings and necklace to match, which were listed and bagged to be taken in; it was something: not a lot, but something.

The barn was split into two levels. The games room on the upper floor had a full-sized snooker table, and another vast area with a wide, open brick fireplace and two massive cushioned sofas with a long pine coffee table between them. The walls were dominated by racing pictures and photos from horse shows. There were a few knickknacks, a lot of large floral arrangements and a cabinet full of crystal glasses and rows of bottles containing every conceivable brand of liquor. There was also a white wine fridge and a rack stocked with good-quality reds. This entire area was easier to search, as it was reasonably sparse. The lower section had a gym, a sauna and whirlpool bath, plus a hot tub and swimming pool. Cabinets contained creams and oils, and fresh white towels were stacked on wooden shelf units. They examined a large laundry basket, but the towels inside didn't even look used. There was further storage space under the barn roof that had an access ladder by the sauna. The officers searched up there, but found only yet more furniture that was not in use. Two officers also spent a considerable amount of time tapping on the walls to see if there were any hidden compartments, but found none.

They had asked the stable lads to take out all the horses and these were being walked up and down as each stall was checked, but came up clean. They also searched the stable boys' quarters, but found nothing remarkable but the stench of sweaty socks.

A drug-trained spaniel sniffed and trotted about. The trainer took it for walks every half hour so it would be refreshed, but so far it had found nothing in the barn and stable area; the second dog, trained to find weapons, was sleeping beside his handler while they waited to enter the main house.

They broke for lunch at one-thirty. Langton, Lewis and Anna pored over the drawings of the house. Justine had described a cellar, a room her father used; however, the only cellar they had on the drawings would have been where the sauna and whirlpool were now located. They were becoming anxious but tried not to show it.

Throughout, Charles Wickenham had remained in the lounge. He had rested on the sofa after finishing the newspaper and actually had a snooze, he was that relaxed.

Anna knocked on Mrs Hedges's door. She was sitting in an old rocking chair, reading a magazine.

'I've brought you some lunch.'

'That's very kind of you, I appreciate it. Is Mr Wickenham still here?'

'Yes, he's still here.'

Anna watched as Mrs Hedges sipped her tea and carefully unwrapped her sandwich. 'Where's the cellar located, Mrs Hedges?'

'There was a very big one, running the whole length of the barn. We'd keep all the furniture that needed to be repaired in there, but when they converted it, I think they dug down to make space for a gym and pool.'

'Surely this house has to have one?'

'Yes it does, but I've not been down there for years: the stairs are very steep.'

'Where is it?'

'Behind the laundry room.'

Anna thanked her, and went back to Langton. 'There's a cellar here; its access is in the laundry room.'

Langton frowned. 'It's not on the survey.'

'Well, Mrs Hedges has just said it is there; she said it had very steep stairs.'

Langton wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. 'Let's take a look.'

They stood in the small, windowless laundry room. One wall was taken up with all the security boxes for the gates and estate; another had two washing machines and tumbledryers, a very high-powered-looking pressing machine and an ironing board stacked against it; the third had rows and rows of shelves, with sheets and towels in colour-coordinated stacks.

Langton sighed. 'Move the shelves.'

Lewis bent down; they were secured with bolts to the floor.

'We'll have to dismantle them,' he said.

'Do it: get some of the SOCO boys in here to give you a hand.'

'There are four female SOCO officers sir, do you need them as well?'

He turned and glared at her. 'Don't give me this female crap now, Travis!'

He stalked out past Anna. She could see he was getting very tense; it was now after two and they had found nothing incriminating.

Langton paced up and down outside the house, smoking. Barolli joined him.

'We're coming up with fuck all over at the barn.'

'Yeah, so I've been told.'

'You want to release some of the men?'

'No, keep going.'

'Found a hidden room behind the fireplace at the cottage, just a square sort of chamber. You could get up and out of the chimney, if you were an anorexic dwarf.'

'Shit!' Langton muttered. This was worse than he could have anticipated.

'His study was clean as a whistle. We moved out hundreds of books, but some heavy porn videos and magazines is about all we've got so far.'

'Plus the diamond-and-emerald necklace.'

'Oh yeah, right. You think Wickenham bribed Sharon Bilkin with the brooch?'

'Right now, pal, I can't think; this whole thing is looking like a fucking fiasco.'

Just then, Lewis appeared at the front door.

Langton looked over, anxiously. 'We got something?'

'Think so: we started to dismantle the unit, but there's a spring attached — the thing moves and opens like a door.'

Langton could feel the blood rush to his head. He ground his cigarette into the gravel and hurried into the house. The shelving unit was partly dismantled; behind it was painted chipboard. Langton watched in anticipation as it was eased gently back and removed. Langton ducked around it to see what it had hidden.

There was a studded door with an archdeacon arch. It had a heavy bolt across the top and bottom. They were silent as Lewis eased back the top bolt and then bent low to loosen the one at the bottom. He straightened and turned the iron hand ring. It moved easily, as if oiled, with no creaking or groaning sound. The door opened inwards.

'This isn't on any of the plans,' Langton said quietly.

Lewis stepped back to allow Langton to have the first view of what lay beyond the door. There were stone steps, steep ones, and below they could see nothing but inky darkness.

'Is there a fight?'

Lewis peered around, but could see no connection. A torch was passed in; a few of the team had gathered outside the laundry room. The torch's beam lit up the stairs but did not reach beyond them. Langton began slowly to descend. There was a rope banister, attached to the wall with iron rings. Behind him, Lewis and Anna followed cautiously.

At the bottom, there was a thick slabbed wall of what looked like York stone. There was hardly enough space to turn, it was so close to the bottom stair. Langton shone the beam of the torch to his right; there was another archway, a door partly ajar. He inched forward, and stopped. There was a strong smell of disinfectant. Two more torches were handed to Anna and she passed one to Lewis as they now slowly made their way through to the next chamber.

The room was larger than they expected, at least twenty-five feet long and fifteen feet wide. The walls and floor were stone. There was an operating table, and a swill table with a big stone washbasin.

'It's like a fucking Victorian mortuary,' Langton said, and put out his arm to stop either Lewis or Anna passing. 'Stay back. I want forensics down here fast; we don't go in any further.'

Anna shone her torch over chains and handcuffs, cabinets filled with bottles of medical supplies. The beam lit up an array of surgeons' saws, all neatly laid out on a table with a white linen cloth.

The three detectives backed out slowly as the forensic team streamed past with their equipment.

'Get me a paper suit, Travis. I want to be down there with them.' He smiled. 'Feeling better now!'

Wickenham obviously knew about the discovery, but had hardly shown any reaction. The uniformed officer who had remained in the lounge with him was relieved by Constable Ed Harris. Seeing that Harris could hardly contain himself, he was slightly peeved that he'd missed all the excitement and scuttled off to get some tea.

Harris looked over to where Charles Wickenham reclined, his manacled hands resting against his thighs.

'Any damage and you'll all pay for it,' he said indolently.

They had discovered the light switches for the cellar, attached to their own small generator. The cellar was flooded with light as the forensic team set to work. Each saw was carefully bagged and tagged. One officer was carefully removing the taps and the drainage system, examining the pipes and taking a lot of samples. Their voices were hardly above a whisper. One after the other was finding blood samples. Langton saw them withdrawing some long hairs from the pipes before deciding to remove the entire waste disposal unit.

Another officer was examining the drugs in the cabinet. There was a considerable amount of morphine and formaldehyde in big canisters, as well as a substantial quantity of cocaine and heroin. It was as if they had opened a twisted version of Aladdin's cave.

Meanwhile, the rest of the officers gathered outside and watched as large plastic bags were carried out; one contained at least a hundred pornographic videos.

Langton came out. He stripped off the paper cover from his shoes and began to rip off his paper suit. Anna went up to him.

'We going to take him in now?'

Langton smiled. He handed to Anna a clipboard listing what had been discovered to date. 'I want him to look over this: we've got heavy-duty bloodstains and hair, and in the incinerator Christ only knows what. It's a makeshift operating theatre, with as much equipment as a hospital emergency room.'

A shout went up from the house; they turned as Lewis hurtled out. He was red-faced and shaking.

'He's fucking gone; did anyone see him come out this way?'

Langton could hardly believe what he was hearing. 'Gone? Gone? What the fuck are you talking about?'

'Wickenham: he's gone'

Constable Ed Harris had been hit over the head and was semi-concussed. A chair had been overturned and some cushions were on the floor, but otherwise the room was as they had left it. Langton was beside himself. Somehow, Charles Wickenham, despite being surrounded by officers, had done an amazing disappearing act. The stables, the cottage, the surrounding outhouses, the woods and fields were all searched; it seemed he had vanished into thin air.

Anna went to see Mrs Hedges. She was sleeping, and woke startled.

'Mrs Hedges, has Charles Wickenham been in here?'

'No, no, I've been alone, what's happened?'

Anna hesitated, then sat down. 'We found the cellar, and we have discovered a number of items.'

'I never went down there,' she said defensively.

'If it wasn't for your help, we might not have found it, but I am afraid you will have to remain in your room.'

She nodded and then took out a soiled handkerchief. 'I didn't know what to do. I used to hear things from down there, but I couldn't do anything.'

Anna was through with the pleasantries. 'Of course you could. You must have known! Maybe not about anyone else, but you knew he took his own daughter down there.'

'No, no, I swear before God, I was here, here in my room.'

'Hear no evil, see no evil? You could have gone to the police. You could have done something to protect her.'

Mrs Hedges broke down in tears. Anna showed her disgust by walking out and shutting the door firmly behind her.

It was after seven by the time they had cleared the cellar. The forensic teams departed, leaving the murder team still searching, assisted by the SOCO officers and the TSG. The dogs were let loose, but by this time they were as tired out as their handlers: they had been given Charles Wickenham's clothes so they could trace his scent, but as he lived at the house and used all the surrounding buildings, their noses kept leading them this way and that, round in circles.

By nine o'clock, Langton released the SOCOs. His own team would continue the search. They were all tired out, but Langton would not stop. By ten-thirty, it was so dark without arc lamps that it was getting impossible to continue the search outside. Their tea wagon had gone and it was almost eleven when an exhausted Langton called everyone together.

'We leave eight officers here; we start an alert to airports, stations, the bastard can't just have…' He trailed off and gave a helpless gesture: Wickenham had disappeared into thin air. They had all been diligent; Langton could not apportion blame to anyone other than Constable Ed Harris, who had been taken by ambulance to the local hospital.

The eight officers who would remain at the estate were given orders to pair up and be in radio contact with each other, taking up positions inside and outside the main house. The surveillance officers were certain they had not seen anyone leave the premises, but by midnight, Charles Wickenham had not been found. Langton, with Anna and Lewis, left: Mayerling Hall. They were too tired and morose to begin questioning either Edward Wickenham or his fianc�e, who were still held in the cells at Richmond. Langton knew he had only few hours left to question them, so he gave instructions to apply for an extension.

The officers in the Incident Room had been updated with all the details from Mayerling Hall. They had been as depressed as the team there when nothing had been discovered and then as jubilant when the cellar was located. Then they received the news that their suspect had done a disappearing act.

Bridget stood in front of the photographs of the Black Dahlia, whose haunted eyes seemed to look at her accusingly. She whispered to herself, 'Dear God, don't let it happen again. Don't let him get away with it.'

The murder of Elizabeth Short had become so intertwined with the Red Dahlia case, it was almost as though if they captured her killer, the Black Dahlia could rest in peace.

Langton was in the Incident Room by seven the following morning. There had been no report of any sightings of Charles Wickenham. He sat in his office, depressed and angry, arranging for a new team to relieve those who had been at the Hall all night.

Mrs Hedges was allowed to leave her room to make herself some breakfast; she was asked that she limit her movements to her room and the kitchen. She sat in her rocking chair, eating scrambled eggs and bacon. She had no real conception of what was happening: just that her employer Charles Wickenham had escaped arrest. After her breakfast, she got out all her papers and began to calculate how much savings she had and what she should do if he never returned. She was astonished to find that with all the cash she had hoarded, she had over seventy thousand pounds. Rocking back and forth, she looked around the sparse room at the single bed she'd had for twenty years and the old, wing-backed easy chair. She did like her large colour TV, but apart from that, she'd had nothing new for fifteen years. They might have redeveloped the barn, but nothing had ever been done to her quarters; it was becoming more and more difficult for her to get in and out of the bath in her ensuite bathroom and for her to yank the old pull chain on her wooden-seated toilet. She had some early photographs of Emily, and these were the ones that pained her. She had been such a pretty child, white blonde hair, and wide blue china doll eyes. It was Emily she had wet-nursed and it was Emily she loved most of all. She sat looking through her cheap Woolworth's album: Justine winning rosettes at her equestrian competitions, Edward as a boy, smiling with a cowboy hat on, and then there was one of his wedding to that nice girl. There were none of Dominique Wickenham.

Mrs Hedges closed the book; she had been on the periphery of the Wickenhams' lives for so many years. She had no life of her own, but she had never really minded that. The family had become her life. She thought of what Anna had said to her: hear no evil, see no evil; well, she was not the evil one. Nevertheless, guilt swept over her.

It was about twelve o'clock when she took her breakfast tray back to the kitchen. She brewed a pot of tea for the officers and handed around the biscuits. She was on her way back up the stairs when she heard a faint scratching sound. It seemed to be coming from beneath the servants' staircase. She listened, sure she had heard something, but there was silence. She continued to her room and closed the door.

Mrs Hedges sat back in her chair, put on her glasses and read Charles Wickenham's newspaper, rocking gently back and forth.

As the forensic team arrived at the Hall to continue their search for further evidence in the cellar, work back at the lab was at full speed. Wickenham's computer had been removed; his waste disposal unit had been dismantled; even his paper-shredding machine was taken. The collection of fibres and bloodstains also needed to be analysed. It would be weeks of work.

At the station, the officers gathered for Langton to give out his instructions to the duty manager. Still held in their cells were Edward Wickenham and Gail Harrington. They had both been allowed to make one phone call and they awaited the arrival of their solicitors. The loss of their suspect was a very big deal and they all knew it, most of all Langton. They had had no reported sightings. The hunt continued.

Langton would conduct the interview with Edward Wickenham himself; Anna and Barolli would concentrate on Gail Harrington. There was no let-up for him: he had to go to the magistrates' court to find out whether his application to keep Gail and Edward in custody had been granted. It had: he had three extra days. That was the good news.

At two o'clock, Gail Harrington was brought into the interview room. As she and Edward had asked for the same solicitor, there had been a delay while they agreed who should be represented by whom.

Gail was obviously in a distressed state and cried as Anna read her her rights. She was arrested for attempting to pervert the course of justice and obstructing the police. She kept on saying that it wasn't anything to do with her, she hadn't done anything wrong. She had been shown photographs of Louise and Sharon and denied knowing either; now she was shown the mortuary photographs and given details of the horrific murders. She was so shocked, she could hardly speak.

Just over one hour later, Anna returned to the Incident Room. Langton was still questioning Edward Wickenham. She asked that Langton be called out so she could update him on what they had gleaned from Gail Harrington. Langton was not too pleased, but he and Anna went into his office.

Anna said that it had taken only one hour and fifteen minutes before Gail had made a statement. When shown the jewellery taken from the cottage, she admitted it was hers, and when shown a photograph of the brooch, sent to the station from the American dealer in Chicago, she said it was part of a set that had included the necklace and earrings, given to her by Charles Wickenham. To specify the exact time and date that the jewellery had been in her possession was hard, as she couldn't recall exactly, but she did know that it was after she had returned from the health farm.

Under pressure from Anna, she also admitted that she had known Sharon Bilkin. She recalled that Charles Wickenham had taken her to choose her diamond engagement ring; her fianc�, his son, was not even with them. She had arranged to meet up with Charles after she had been to have her hair done; it was at the salon that she had met up with Sharon. Anna was able to pinpoint that this appointment was after the murder of Louise Pennel. Sharon had been having some fresh hair extensions done; she had recognised Gail and had come over and talked while Gail was waiting for her tint to take. Gail had told her that she was in London to choose her engagement ring. They exchanged phone numbers, although Gail said she had no intention of seeing Sharon again. That was the end of their conversation, as Gail was taken over to the basins to have her tint washed out.

Shortly before she was ready to leave, Charles Wickenham had walked into the salon, motioned to her that he was waiting and then walked out. As she paid the bill, Sharon was also ready to leave. She asked if that was who she was going to marry and Gail had said that he was her finance's father. Sharon had followed her out of the salon and seen her getting into Charles Wickenham's Jaguar.

Anna surmised that it must have been quite a shock for him, not only to see Louise Pennel's flatmate, but for her then to have come over to the car and say she was looking forward to seeing Gail again.

However, Gail had told Anna she had never seen or heard from Sharon again. Charles Wickenham had shown her the diamond-and-emerald jewellery as a taster of what she could be expecting when she married into the family, but when she was given the large white satin box, there was no brooch.

Langton closed his eyes. 'So what do you think happened?'

Anna hesitated. 'Well, I think Sharon smelt big money, for one; for two, she had to have recognised Charles Wickenham, and he must have known it.'

'But she was not seen at the Hall?'

'Gail denies she ever saw her again. She also denied ever seeing Louise Pennel at the house. I can have another go at her — up to you.'

'Mmm, okay.'

'We've not got a lot to hold her on. She says she had no idea where Charles Wickenham could have gone, perhaps Milan to his wife. She is very distressed and crying.'

'Let her cool off for a while; keep her until I've finished with Edward Wickenham.'

'How's that going?'

'So far fuck all, but let me get back in there.'

Anna nodded. She collected her notes and followed him out to the Incident Room. There was still no news on the whereabouts of Charles Wickenham.

Lewis approached Anna and told her that Gail had asked to speak with her. They had actually had a doctor to see her as she had become hysterical, and he had prescribed a light sedative.

'Why does she want to see me?'

'I dunno, but if you want to go down there, you'd better ask the Gov if it's okay.'

Langton was wary about any conversation with Gail not being monitored at this stage, and without a solicitor present. Then again, if she did have anything that could give them a clue to Wickenham's whereabouts, Anna should perhaps agree to see her, on the condition that she was accompanied by either Lewis or Barolli.

Anna waited outside Gail's cell as the duty sergeant unlocked the door. Anna glanced towards Barolli to stand aside for a moment.

'You wanted to see me,' she said quietly, standing in the doorway. She was shocked by how haggard and sickly Gail appeared. She was sitting on the edge of her bunk bed, her body was trembling and her eyes were red-rimmed from weeping.

'Do you know where Charles Wickenham is?'

Gail shook her head; she was biting her lower lip as the tears welled up.

'Do you perhaps have any idea where he may…?'

'No, no I don't know,' Gail interrupted, and wiped her face with the back of her hand as the tears trickled down her cheeks. 'If I knew I would tell you, but I don't know, I really don't. I have no idea where he would be; I mean, he could be anywhere but I don't know, I swear to you. I have said this over and over again; I don't know where he is!'

Gail glanced towards Anna, and then hunched her shoulders as she saw Barolli standing behind her.

'You asked to see me, but you must understand that without a solicitor present…'

Again she was interrupted as Gail clasped her knees and bent forwards. 'I am telling you the truth! It must be obvious why. Because if he found out it was me, that I called and gave you his name…' She suddenly straightened up and began brushing her skirt with the flat of her hand. 'That's why I wanted to talk to you, because I want to know if it will help me. I called the police, I gave you his name. If I hadn't, you might never have even questioned him.'

'Yes, that is correct; I know your solicitor is aware of the assistance you gave by calling the station with the information.'

'So it will help me, won't it? You will testify that I did speak to you. I mean, I know I tried to remain anonymous, but that was because I was afraid of what he would do to me if he found out.'

'We are obviously aware of how important that call was, and I am sure it will be made very clear to the court.'

'I can't go to prison, you have to help me. I can't, I'd rather kill myself.' Gail stood and took a step closer to Anna who immediately stepped back. She then felt guilty as Gail held out her arms as if she needed to be comforted. 'Please help me.'

Anna turned to Barolli who indicated they should leave.

'I have been so frightened for so long; Edward is almost as afraid of his father as I am. He's not a bad person; if we'd been able to leave and live our own lives, we'd have been happy. Charles wouldn't let him go; whatever you might say Edward has done is because he was dominated by his father and forced into helping him…'

Anna gave the signal for the cell door to be closed. Gail seemed not to notice. Whether or not it was due to the sedatives, she seemed unable to stop talking; her voice had dropped to a monotone. Anna turned away, walking beside Barolli; they could hear Gail continuing from behind the cell door. 'He had to work so hard on the estate and he was paid a pittance. He loved his sisters and tried to protect them, especially Emily. He really cared about Emily. He wanted to have children and it was such a lovely place for a child to grow up with the horses and the woods…'

Anna headed up the stone stairs towards the Incident Room, Barolli behind her. As Gail's voice faded, so did Anna's compassion for her. Barolli felt nothing; no amount of horror had made Edward Wickenham man enough to stop his depraved father from committing heinous crimes against young women, even his own daughters. The fact that Gail had made the call to the Incident Room, giving them Charles Wickenham's name, would be used by her defence, and might be enough to persuade a judge not to give her a prison sentence. As it was, they still had to find Charles Wickenham and until they did, neither his daughter-in-law nor his son would be released.

The forensic team were still taking samples and collecting evidence from the cellar. The stable boys had been allowed to exercise the horses, but there were police officers surrounding the house and estate. Charles Wickenham had not shown.

Edward Wickenham constantly conferred with his solicitor in whispers. He then became morose and wouldn't answer any questions. Like his fianc�e, he paled visibly when shown the horrific photographs of the victims. Asked about the contents of the cellar, he denied knowing what went on down there, as he was never allowed access. Asked about his own sister's abortion, he denied that it had ever happened. He persisted in saying that Emily was mentally unstable and that no one could believe a word she said. He became agitated when shown the sexual photographs of himself with his own stepmother, but said that she was willing and there was nothing illegal about what happened.

He continued to say over and over again that he did not understand why he was being held or why they were asking him about the two girls that he had never met.

'Because these two girls, as you describe them, were brutally murdered, Mr Wickenham.'

'I don't understand. I have nothing whatsoever to do with either of them.'

Langton pressed on; all the while, he knew he was jumping the gun. He was desperate to get the forensic evidence to back up his accusations. After two hours, he decided to end the interview. He still refused to release either Edward or Gail because of their relationship with his prime suspect, much to the anger of their solicitors.

It was eight o'clock when Langton called a briefing. He was looking very tired, as they all were. He said to call it quits for the night, and reconvene first thing in the morning.

The team started to pack up. Anna could sense the depression and just wanted to get home. They had issued a press release and photographs of Charles Wickenham, asking for the public to be on the alert. The Red Dahlia yet again featured in all the papers.

Anna let herself into her flat. They should have some forensic evidence by the morning; she knew they all had pinned their hopes on it confirming that they had the right man. That in itself was a farce: they might have named him, but they did not have him. Her phone rang just as she was heading into the bathroom.

'Anna, it's me, it's Dick Reynolds.'

She said nothing.

'Are you still there?'

Anna took a deep breath. 'I have nothing to say to you.'

'Come on, let's just forget the coffee in the face and have a talk. I mean, these new press releases!'

'Piss off!' she said and hung up.

The phone rang again. She picked it up and dropped it straight back onto the cradle — so much for his cheek, she thought.

Anna had a shower, did some clearing up and was putting some laundry on when her front door went. She physically jumped, and was glad of her double locks and safety chain.

She picked up the intercom. 'Hello?'

If it was Justine Wickenham, no way would she let her in. Then she thought it could be Dick Reynolds.

'Hi, it's me; it's James.'

She was surprised, but eager to talk to him, sure he must have some new evidence. She buzzed him in.

Anna unlocked the door and swung it open. He headed up the stairs; his feet sounded leaden. He appeared at the top of the stairs and she knew he was drunk.

'You'd better come in.'

'Thank you,' he said and walked slowly towards her. She could smell the alcohol; he looked as if he was about to crash out. He was unshaven and his eyes were red-rimmed. As he passed her, he rested an arm heavily on her shoulder.

'Well, I fucked up, didn't I?'

She shut the door and almost keeled over as his dead weight leaning on her made her stumble. 'Come on through, I'll make some coffee.'

He staggered down her small hall into her bedroom. She followed and watched as he flopped down on her bed. She helped him off with his coat; he was like a child, holding one arm out, then the other.

'How could he fucking walk out; how could he just disappear? It's fucking madness!'

She folded his coat and placed it on a chair.

'I'm going to have to release his son, and that stupid bitch of a fianc�e, you know that, don't you?'

'Yes, but we've not had the results in yet.'

'I know, I know, but if they come in, and we get to know what the fucker did, we are going to look like prize fucking idiots, because he walked out right under our noses. How in Christ's name did he do it? And you know who's gonna get the bollocking — me! Me: because I should have put more officers on the bastard, but I reckoned with his handcuffs on he wasn't going to try anything. Shit! Why didn't I bang him up and take him in when we knew it was him? I'll tell you why: because I wanted to prolong his agony. I wanted him to know we'd got him cornered. My vanity, my stupid fucking ego!'

'He had every right to remain at the house while we searched: be it a good or bad decision, everyone went along with it.'

Langton gave a lopsided grin, and then lifted his hands in a helpless gesture of defeat. 'I've lost my way, Travis.'

'You mean lost your way home or in life?'

'Come here.'

'No, we've been there once already, and this is not the right time to go there again.'

'Jesus Christ, I just wanted to hold you.'

'I'm going to put some coffee on.'

'I really care about you, Travis; why don't you get into bed with me?'

'Let me get you some coffee.'

'Fuck the coffee. Come here; let me hold you.'

'No, let me get you some coffee.' She went into the kitchen. This was exactly what she had wanted: for him to want to hold her and make love to her, but not drunk and certainly not in the mood he was in. So she brewed up a pot of fresh coffee; by the time she carried it into the bedroom, he was out cold. She pulled off his shoes and left him to sleep it off. She would sleep on the sofa. It had been yet another long day, and the frustration of losing Wickenham had got to them all. She could only think that, just like the suspect in the original Black Dahlia case, their killer had escaped justice. It would be something that they would all have to face unless he was caught, and the more time that elapsed, the less likely it was they would find him.