The Red Dahlia at-2 Read online

  'That was from me. I am DI Anna Travis.'

  'I know what it's about. Sharon told me what had happened to her flatmate; it was a shock, not that I knew her. Do you want to come in? I can talk to you now: I don't go to work until eleven today.'

  Anna was led into the ground-floor flat which was crammed with antique furniture.

  Mrs Jenkins noticed Anna looking round. 'I run an antique stall in Alfie's Market over in Paddington.'

  Anna smiled. 'I can tell you have some lovely pieces.'

  'I had a lot more, but I had a very unpleasant divorce. I used to live over in St John's Wood but I had to sell the house to pay him off. It was a lump settlement, so I bought this place. It was already divided up into flats so I didn't have to do anything to it, and it's close to my work.'

  The woman hardly draws breath, Anna thought. 'Mrs Jenkins, you say Sharon told you about Louise Pennel?'

  'Oh yes, terrible, just terrible. I wasn't here, you see. My sister was ill so I had to go to Bradford, just after it happened, I think. Of course I read about it in the papers but I didn't recognise her from the photograph. I didn't pay it much attention, so many terrible things happen.'

  Anna interrupted. 'Mrs Jenkins, did you ever see anyone with Louise?'

  'I didn't really know her. I know she lived in the top flat. I only allow two to share up there: it's very small.'

  'I know you don't allow visitors to stay.'

  'House rule: they know when they move in. Reason is, these young girls get a steady boyfriend and the next minute, they've moved them in as well! So, I make it very obvious from the start: no overnight boyfriend full stop. If they want to do whatever they do, they can go and stay with them. Sharon has a new girl renting with her, and I told her straight away—'

  'Mrs Jenkins!' Anna was now impatient. 'Did you ever see Louise Pennel with a man friend?'

  'He rang the wrong bell once; quite a while back when she had just moved in, and so I answered the door.'

  'So you did see a man with Louise?'

  'No dear, I said I never saw them together. I saw him, just the once. He rang my bell by mistake, so I answered the door.' Mrs Jenkins got up and crossed to the window. 'I have a clear view of the road outside, but you can't see someone if they're standing close to the front door.'

  Anna could feel her heart pounding. 'Can you describe this man?'

  'I had no more than two words with him. I didn't think it was a boyfriend, to be honest; he might have been a relative.'

  'What did he look like?'

  'Oh, now you're asking; well, he was tall, maybe six foot, slim build, very well dressed, very refined voice. He had on a long dark coat, I remember that, but I doubt if I'd recognise him again. He called here for her a couple of times; never rang my bell again though. He used to ring her bell and then go back to his car.'

  'What make of car was it?'

  'Oh I don't know. It was black, very polished, but I don't know the make of it; nowadays the expensive ones all look alike to me, but it could have been a Mercedes or a BMW

  Anna opened her briefcase and brought out the sketch of the suspect wanted in the Black Dahlia case. 'Did he look like this?'

  Mrs Jenkins stared at the drawing, then frowned. 'I don't think he had a moustache, but yes, sort of thin-faced and with that hooked nose, but still good-looking.'

  'When was the last time you saw him?'

  'It would have been the day before I left for Bradford, so the eighth of January. He rang their bell. I looked out of the window, saw it was him and then heard her running down the stairs. She slammed the front door, a bit too hard for my liking, and went across the road and got into his car.'

  'What time was this?'

  'It was about nine-thirty; it was dark. They drove off.'

  'Thank you. You have been very helpful. I really appreciate your time. If there is anything else you can recall, I would be most grateful if you would contact me.'

  Anna sat in her car and called the Incident Room to relay what Mrs Jenkins had told her. As she finished her call, she saw Sharon hurrying along the road with a carton of milk and got out of her Mini. Sharon could not help but see her.

  'Sorry, they cancelled the audition, but we was out of milk so I went to the shop.'

  As Anna followed Sharon into the house, she saw the curtains at Mrs Jenkins's ground-floor window flick open and then close.

  Sharon sat opposite Anna.

  'The night before you went to Stringfellow's with Louise, were you at home?'

  'No. I went to see a friend and I bought a dress from her.'

  'So you wouldn't know if Louise had a date that night?'

  'Not really; she was in when I got back. She was making herself a cup of tea and I showed her my dress. She was upset about something.'

  'Do you know what she was upset about?'

  'She'd been crying but she didn't say why; just went into her room and shut the door.'

  Sharon leaned closer. 'I've got a new flatmate. She's very nice and I've not mentioned anything about Louise or what happened to her; well, she is sleeping in her bed.'

  'I understand,' Anna said, without meaning it. 'Can you just run over the night you went to Stringfellow's with Louise?'

  'I've told you all about it.'

  'Yes, I know. Did you often go out together?'

  'No.'

  'So this night was unusual?'

  'Yeah, I suppose so. She asked where I was going, so I told her and she said she'd like to come along, we'd been there a couple of times before, but not on a regular basis. I've been through all this, you know. Me and Louise were not close friends or anything like that; she didn't talk about herself that much.'

  'Not even about this man she was seeing?'

  'No, you asked me that before.'

  'But you mentioned that you thought he was married.'

  'Only because of the way she acted, you know, very secretive; she never even told me his name, so I sort of presumed it was because he was older than her.'

  'So you saw him?'

  'No, but she said he didn't like her wearing short skirts or skimpy tops; she once said he liked her to look very demure.'

  'So on the night you went to Stringfellow's, how did she dress?'

  Sharon shrugged. 'She had on her maroon coat, a black dress and high-heeled shoes. She looked nice.'

  'Not demure?'

  'No, she could look very sexy if she wanted to.'

  'Did you think she was meeting someone at the club?'

  'I don't think so. When we got there, it was heaving. I knew a few people so she hung around with me till I went off dancing. Then I met up with this guy I knew. I went looking for her, to tell her I was going, but I couldn't find her.'

  'She didn't mention that she was meeting this older boyfriend there?'

  'No, but maybe she knew he would be there.' Sharon leaned back and frowned. 'You know, thinking about it, she was sort of angry, like she wanted to have a good time to prove something. She spent ages doing her hair, changed her dress a couple of times, kept on asking me what I thought.'

  Sharon frowned again. Anna could, as usual, almost see the wheels turning in her brain; then Sharon clicked her fingers. 'I just remembered something. She was standing in the doorway there, hands on hips, and she laughed. Yes! Yes! I remember now: she said, He won't recognise me!'

  Anna said nothing.

  Sharon patted the table with the flat of her hand. 'That would mean she was expecting to see him there, don't you think? And if he'd had this fight with her, and if he always wanted her to dress like a virgin and she was dressing in the exact opposite way to piss him off, then she was gonna see him!'

  'Thank you, Sharon, that's very helpful; and should you remember anything else, no matter how small or inconsequential, please call me direct.'

  Anna headed down the stairs to the front door. Mrs Jenkins came out of her flat.

  'I've been waiting for you. I've been sitting thinking about everything you asked me.'

>   Anna waited.

  'When I opened the door to him, the man you asked me about, I didn't see his face that clearly, but I remember that on his left hand, little finger, he had a large signet ring. I think it had a cornelian stone; it was quite large. His hand was up and covering his face, you see: that's why I saw it!'

  Anna smiled. 'Thank you, that's very helpful.'

  Mrs Jenkins beamed, and then folded her arms. 'And there's something else: you remember I said I couldn't remember what make of car he was driving?'

  'Yes?' Anna was eager now.

  'Well, you should ask the owner of the dry cleaner's across the road, because I saw him bending down to look into the car as it was in the residents' parking bay, so he might be able to tell you more.'

  Anna smiled; this was good.

  Anna made it back to the Incident Room in time for Langton's update. She listened as Barolli gave details of the mass of CCTV footage that they were checking over from the nightclub. They usually recorded over the tapes covering the outside of the club, but there was extensive footage from the interior security camera. After much persuasion, they had been sent the tapes for the night in question, when there had been a lot of star guests. Barolli said they had not as yet seen any footage of Louise, but they were hopeful.

  DI Lewis was next up. He had the report from the forensic lab. They had finished work on the underwear taken from Louise's laundry basket. They had found two different DNA samples, so they would have to request samples from friends and acquaintances and start running them through the database.

  Anna gave details of her morning at Sharon's and her disappointment that the dry cleaning shop owner had been unable to give any further details about the car. He said that most nights, there was someone or other parked illegally; it was an ongoing frustration to the residents that there were never enough parking spaces.

  It was a depressing briefing, because no matter how much work they were all doing, they were making no progress. Langton reiterated that all weekend leave was cancelled. He was determined to push the case forward.

  DAY FOURTEEN

  It was eleven-fifteen on Saturday morning when Dick Reynolds called the Incident Room to speak to Langton directly.

  'Travis, with me; your boyfriend's got a delivery.'

  A package had arrived; as per his instructions, Reynolds had not opened it but had placed it into a plastic bag. They travelled across London to the newspaper offices at breakneck speed, sirens wailing. Reynolds was loath to part with it and said that it might possibly be something for him personally.

  Langton snapped at him, holding his hand out. 'We'll let you know, Mr Reynolds, but I am afraid you will have to wait to hear what the contents are.'

  'No way. I am keeping my end of the bargain; if you don't want this released, then you take me with you.'

  Langton stared at him, then jerked his head towards the patrol car where Anna sat in the back passenger seat. 'Get in! And, Mr Reynolds, there is no deal, no bargain; I'm doing this to keep you from making an ass of yourself, because this is a murder enquiry, not some fucking reality TV show. You have agreed to a press embargo along with all the other journalists; you break it and I'll have you served with a warrant.'

  Reynolds held the plastic bag gingerly on his knee. He gave a sly glance to Anna who didn't respond, knowing full well that they couldn't actually serve a warrant on him; Langton was just putting the frighteners on. No one spoke as they sped across London to the forensic lab.

  Langton asked how long would they need to wait; one of the white-coated scientists told them that it would be done as fast as possible.

  Anna sat beside Reynolds, Langton in a chair opposite.

  'Like a doctor's waiting room.' Dick smiled.

  Langton glanced at him, not amused. His mobile rang and he moved away to take the call in private.

  'Pleasant bugger, isn't he?' Reynolds said quietly.

  'He's okay, just under a lot of strain,' Anna said.

  'Aren't we all? My editor went apeshit when I told her what was going down; if she'd had her way, she'd have ripped open the package to see what was inside.'

  'Really?' Anna glanced towards Langton who was some distance away with his shoulders hunched, leaning against a wall.

  'Well, for Chrissakes, it's a blinding story, for starters; mind you, it could just be something not connected to your case at all.'

  'It would be too coincidental. Your caller said he would be sending a package, next minute you get one.'

  Anna checked her watch, Dick leaned towards her. 'How long do we have to wait?'

  'They'll be checking everything; it might have fingerprints.'

  'Interesting; plus the postmark might be useful.'

  'I doubt he'll leave anything we can trace, but that's just my opinion.'

  He stared at her. 'Are you okay?'

  'Yes.'

  'Just, you seem a bit distant with me?'

  She smiled. Truth was, she felt slightly awkward. 'Working,' she said.

  'You free for dinner this week?'

  'I'll have to check my schedule; I may be on nights.'

  'Ah, I thought you meant your social calendar.'

  She laughed. 'No, I'm not doing anything; maybe you'd like me to cook us dinner one night?'

  'That would be good; why don't we say this weekend?'

  'I might have to work.'

  'Well, call me.'

  Langton came back and sat down. He, too, checked his watch.

  'While we're here, we should check on the work they have been doing on her clothes,' he said, his foot tapping up and down.

  'What clothes?' Reynolds asked.

  Langton ignored him. Anna hesitated. 'We took items belonging to the victim for analysis.'

  'Oh right: DNA, stuff like that,' Reynolds said. He couldn't think of anything to make conversation with so he took out his mobile and began checking his messages.

  Langton glared at him, and then at Anna.

  They all turned to the double doors as they swung open and Professor Marshe hurried towards them. Anna was taken aback; the woman certainly loved making an entrance.

  'James, I'm sorry; I got here as soon as I could. I can't stay too long: I am on my way to give a lecture.'

  Langton rose to his feet and greeted her with a kiss on her cheek; he then introduced her to Reynolds, who stood up to shake her hand. Anna remained seated as Professor Marshe smiled at her. 'Nice to see you again, Hannah.'

  Anna smiled, not bothering to correct her. Professor Marshe was wearing another tailored suit and high-heeled shoes. Anna would have loved to be able to wear similarly chic and expensive clothes, but she was nowhere near as tall and slender as Professor Marshe. Anna wished she'd worn something less dowdy and folded her legs to disguise her low-heeled scuffed court shoes.

  The door to the lab opened, and Liz Hudson, the forensic scientist, gestured to them from the doorway.

  'We're by no means through, but you can come in and see what we've got for you.'

  Hudson led them to a table at the end of the lab, covered with white paper tacked down at the sides. Spread out, already dusted for prints and neatly numbered, were the contents of the package. There was a black leather clutch bag, with a suede flower motif and a tasselled zip. Laid out beside the bag were a cheap powder compact, two lipsticks, a small mirror, a used tissue with lipstick marks, and a black leather address book.

  Anna noticed that Langton lightly touched Professor Marshes arm as she leaned closer and guessed that she had been the one calling his mobile earlier.

  'Can I just say,' said Hudson, 'before we examine the purse etcetera, that everything here would have been carefully chosen by your suspect. If there was anything that could be of use to us, he would have discarded it. This is him playing out how clever he is.'

  Anna nodded, although she had already guessed that. She was impatient to get hold of the address book, but none of them touched anything.

  Hudson continued. 'The bag is good quality, b
ut old; perhaps bought from a charity shop. It's got a residue of loose powder in one of the pockets. It also smells of an old-fashioned perfume called Chepre. My grandmother used to wear it; it's no longer in production. Another thing that makes the bag old is that the label inside is Chanel and I doubt if your girl would have bought this new. The lining is very worn, as is the suede inlay.'

  They all moved a few inches down the table, staring intently at the items.

  'Next the powder compact, Boots Number Seven; there is no powder puff, perhaps because we might have been able to get a skin test. The lipstick is a pink gloss and has been wiped; you can see by the head of the lipstick it has scrape marks. We have no prints off either. The second lipstick is Helena Rubenstein; it is a very deep red, not a common choice for a young girl. Oddly enough, it has not been used. It's also not sold any more, like the perfume.'

  Anna made copious notes as she listened, then looked up as Hudson pointed to the address book.

  'You will be able to take this as it's been dusted. There are pages torn out, there're numerous different inks and biro and the entries are in no specific order. Also, the pages are torn out in pairs. We had hoped that we might have been able to see an imprint of what had been written if the writer had pressed hard, but this means we will not be able to decipher anything.'

  'We'll need that,' Langton said, and Hudson nodded.

  'Not a lot, but you do at least have your victim's name printed in the front of the address book, so we are to presume that these items did belong to her.'

  They moved further along the table to the brown paper that had been used to wrap the parcel.

  'There is a smudged postmark; we are trying to get you something from it, but it is very faint, and we have so far found two sets of prints.'

  'They could be mine,' Reynolds said.

  'We'll need to take yours so we can eliminate them.'

  'Plus there might be prints from the receptionist that brought it up to my desk.'

  Hudson nodded. 'I would say whoever wrapped it used gloves, as there are no smudges. The adhesive tape is of a very common variety; we are going to see if, when we lift it off, there may be something beneath, but I doubt it. We have the time it was posted — six-thirty — and we think it was from the main post office at Charing Cross. It's a very busy central office, so I doubt if anyone saw the sender, or could remember him; there is also the possibility he used someone else to post it. Now we get to the note inside the package.'