The Red Dahlia (7 page)

Anna did not get back to her flat until nine-fifteen. She hoped her dinner date with Dick Reynolds the following evening would not have to be cancelled. She was on the early-morning shift though, so should be able to leave the station by four in the afternoon to give her time to wash her hair, have a nice long bath and get ready. She brought Louise Pennel’s suitcase in from the car and left it by an armchair. She was tired out and so just made some cheese on toast and a big mug of tea, which she took into her lounge to eat in front of the TV. She zapped through a few channels and ended up watching some gameshow in which a team of hysterical women were trying to cook a three-course dinner that cost no more than five pounds. She finished her own meal and decided it was bedtime, using the remote to turn off the set.

Without the TV on, the room was almost in darkness; the cheap suitcase drew Anna’s attention as she drank the last of her tea. Even though she was tired out, she dragged it over to the sofa, switched on a lamp and opened it up. The clothes she had taken from Louise’s bedroom were neatly folded, as she had packed them herself. She took out each item and laid them on the floor. She then searched the suitcase again for anything they might have missed.

The lining was frayed but there was nothing hidden inside it. She glanced at the sticker labelling the case with Sharon’s address, and then looked at it more closely. It had been pasted over another, so she cut the tag off, took it into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Holding it gingerly in the steam, she was able to pick slowly at the corner until she could peel the top sticker off. Underneath, in old-fashioned, looped writing, Mrs F. Pennel, Seacroft House, Bognor Regis, was written in ink.

Anna made a note of this and then placed the two labels in an envelope to take into the station in the morning.

Next, she began to check every single item she had removed; things that neither the forensic team nor Sharon had wanted. They smelt of a strange, musty perfume, which Anna recognised as stale Tudor Rose.

There was a child’s hand-knitted sweater with a zigzag design and some of the wool fraying at the cuffs. Anna could make out a smudged name on its label: Mary Louise P, Harwood House. Again, she jotted the information down. Next came a threadbare flannelette nightdress, a set of waitress’s collar and cuffs and a pair of tired-looking low-heeled court shoes with holes in the soles.

Anna knew that the more expensive garments, like the cashmere sweaters, had been taken to the lab for tests. She also thought it more than likely that, despite her protestations, Sharon had picked over Louise’s stuff and taken a number of things. The leftovers were a sad array that even the charity shops would not want. There were three paperback books, well worn, with many pages turned over at the top corner: it was a habit, even when exercised on paperbacks, that Anna loathed. There were also two Barbara Cartland bodice rippers and a small leather-bound dictionary; written on the flyleaf was Harwood House Library and an address in Eastbourne. It was dated 1964, but Anna knew that Louise Pennel was twenty-two years old, so she must have taken it from the library. The last book was equally well-thumbed with many passages underlined. It was a pocket book of etiquette, from table manners to serving dinners, circa 1950.

Packing all the items back into the suitcase made Anna feel a great sadness for the girl they had once belonged to. The tawdry remnants of her life gave Anna little idea of what kind of girl Louise had been, other than that she had wanted to better herself; the horrific circumstances of her death were a far cry from the romantic world of Barbara Cartland.

About to place one of the novels back into the case, Anna flicked through it; caught between the pages was a folded note written on lined paper. The handwriting was childish and there were a number of misspellings and crossings-out. It appeared to be a draft of a job application and began Dear Mr… It went on:

I am enclosing a photograph of myself. I would like to apply for the possition of personal assistant. I am presentlly working for a dental practise but have always wanted to travel and as I have no dependents this would not be a problem. I am able to type but do not have short hand.

That was all; no signature, no name and no address. It felt yet again like a step forwards that abruptly stopped.

Anna lay awake for a while, thinking about Louise Pennel. Could that job application have been how she met their missing tall dark stranger? Anna snuggled into her pillow and tried to distract herself by thinking about what she would wear for her date tomorrow evening. Dick Reynolds had just said a bite to eat, so she didn’t want to overdress. She hadn’t made up her mind by the time she fell asleep.

Her sleep was deep but not dreamless: the image of Louise Pennel’s ghostlike face, with her slit bleeding clown mouth open wide, kept on floating before Anna, as if she was calling out to her. Louise was naked, her skin white as porcelain, as it had been when they had first seen her severed body. She was wearing only the white waitress’s collar and cuffs and moved closer and closer as if to touch Anna. That was when she woke and sat bolt upright. It was four o’clock and the alarm would be ringing at six. She flopped down and closed her eyes; so much for a good night’s sleep.

Chapter Five

DAY ELEVEN

Everyone had been instructed to gather in the Incident Room for a briefing. Anna had already passed over her report with the findings from Louise Pennel’s belongings. As the team waited for Langton, she began checking out the Mrs F. Pennel in Bognor Regis. She had discovered that the Harwood House address had been a children’s home that had closed down over five years ago. A Joyce Hughes, Mrs Pennel’s carer, answered the phone and told Anna that she was very elderly and bedridden; she was unable to say whether or not she was any relation to Louise. Anna asked if it would be convenient to call again to speak to Mrs Pennel personally, and Mrs Hughes suggested she try again between four and five that afternoon.

Langton came out of his office looking smart in a grey suit with a pink shirt and grey tie. He had obviously made an effort; he had shaved, and even his hair looked neat.

‘Right, we all here?’

Everyone looked attentively towards him as the latecomers scurried in.

‘We will have the full autopsy report first thing in the morning. We are also being joined by a profiler who has been working on the statements taken to date.’

The double doors to the Incident Room opened, and Lewis held one wide to allow an elegant blonde woman to walk through. She was wearing a tight-fitting check jacket that Anna thought might be Chanel, with a tight black pencil skirt and patent spike-heeled shoes; she carried a bulging black briefcase. She was tall and slender with perfect legs, and although hers was not exactly a pretty face — it was too angular, her nose too sharp — her wide-apart eyes made her appear exceptionally attractive. A comb caught up her hair in a chignon and she wore no lipstick, just a hint of gloss. Her appearance silenced the room.

Langton introduced Professor Aisling Marshe and then gave the names of all those gathered. She gave a small smile and polite nod, then started to remove files from her briefcase. Coffee was served, Bridget wheeling the trolley around the desks, as Professor Marshe talked quietly to Langton and studied the Incident board. About fifteen minutes later, she removed her jacket and placed it on the back of her chair. She had on a white silk blouse, but no jewellery other than a pair of large gilt earrings. She asked Langton to draw the table closer to her chair, which he did very quickly.

Anna had never seen him be so helpful and charming. He was smiling at the Professor all the time; he served her coffee and asked if she wanted sugar; it looked as if he would even drink it for her if she asked him to. Anna realised that when he had mentioned calling in a profiler he must have already arranged to have the Professor on board; he was keeping things as close to his chest as when they had last worked together.

At last the Professor seemed ready to talk to them. The room fell silent.

‘Firstly, I’d like to express my thanks to DCI Langton — James — for giving me this opportunity. I am actually in England on a sabbatical.’ She turned to flash a knowing smile at Langton.

Anna was stunned; it was very obvious that Langton and this American knew each other extremely well. If they weren’t already sleeping together, Anna was certain that they would be soon. She was so taken aback that she missed what was said next. She wasn’t alone; some of the other officers had been shooting glances at each other.

‘I want you to have a look at my previous work, so I’ve had a few sheets typed up for you.’ She handed them to Langton, who began passing them around. ‘Just so that you know more about me, and hopefully trust in my judgement over the Louise Pennel case.’

She was nervous; she kept turning a pencil in her manicured hands. As the team started reading, the Professor flipped open her own file and waited patiently.

Professor Marshe had been working for Court TV in America for the past eighteen months, participating in live discussions on the cases broadcast. They all appeared to be high-profile murder trials. Her previous work had been in connection with the NYPD homicide unit as a freelance adviser. She had been educated at Vassar and had an impressive list of degrees. She had also spent eight months interviewing serial killers in various prisons across America for her latest book and had guested on two high-profile television documentaries. She was single, aged thirty-eight.

Anna folded the CV and, along with the rest of the room, looked towards Professor Marshe, eager to hear what she had to say.

‘I would really have liked more time to digest the case history to date, so I will very likely need to get back to you with further details on how I think you should progress.’

She turned to indicate the photographs of Louise Pennel. ‘The killer obviously had a lengthy period of time to commit this crime. She was missing for three days. It is quite possible she took that length of time to die. Your killer has to have a place where the dismembering and blood draining could be done. I do think the perpetrator is someone with medical training and I do think you are looking for a male. He will live somewhere in this area, quite possibly close to the murder site itself. This kill is premeditated. Your killer will have taken many months choosing his victim and planning the torture as part of his modus operandi; he must therefore have known the victim very well. He would have known that she would not be missed for some considerable time. I am aware that you are hoping to trace a suspect. This description of a tall, well-dressed, perhaps middle-aged man would fit the profile I have begun on your killer. This man, I doubt I have to tell you, is extremely dangerous. I do not think that Louise was his first victim; I also do not think she will be his last. Perhaps it would be advisable to go back into any unsolved cases and look for murders with an exceptional sadistic sexual motive.’

Professor Marshe paused and looked at her notes; she then tapped the page. ‘It’s quite possible that this killer will have been married; he may even still be married and with a family; grown-up children, I think. He has a hatred of women. So look for someone whose previous marriages have failed, someone who has been humiliated and someone with an immense ego; it is his ego we need to concentrate on, because that’s what will lead you to him.’

Anna stifled a yawn. The truth was Professor Marshe had not really told them anything they had not already discussed. Langton, on the other hand, appeared so enamoured with what the Professor was saying that Anna wanted to slap him. She watched, irritated, as Professor Marshe held up the book on the Black Dahlia that she herself had brought to Langton’s attention.

‘The last book written on the Black Dahlia constantly refers to how clever the killer of Elizabeth Short was: clever enough that, after numerous contacts by him to the police, they were still unable to catch him. It is quite likely that he went on to kill two more women, as if to prove himself above suspicion. Even after these murders he remained undetected. Your killer will have enjoyed reading as much information about Elizabeth Short as possible, because he identifies himself with her killer. If you read the description of Elizabeth Short, she is very similar to Louise Pennel: Elizabeth was twenty-two years old, five feet six inches. She had black hair whereas Louise Pennel was dark blonde, dyed red. Both women’s fingernails were bitten down to the quick. I am certain your killer chose Louise Pennel very carefully and I am certain he will have the same overblown ego as Elizabeth Short’s killer. His psychological sickness will mean he wants as much attention given to the Louise Pennel case as to the Black Dahlia. For starters, he has alerted the press to the Elizabeth Short case and encouraged them to give your victim the nickname of the Red Dahlia. I am certain that the two letters received by the journalists were sent by him. Now he will become desperate to hear about the enquiry: he will want to read about his exploits; to hear that you have no leads will fuel his ego and provoke him to make further contact. To date, you have not released the full extent of Louise’s horrific injuries. I suggest you maintain a very low profile to draw him out. The more he is drawn out to make contact, the more likely he is to make a mistake.’

Anna watched as Professor Marshe closed her file, indicating that the meeting was over. The team began to talk amongst themselves. Langton and Professor Marshe spent some time looking over the board then went into Langton’s office. Barolli wandered over to Anna’s desk.

‘What do you think?’ he asked.

‘She’s not exactly said anything we haven’t discussed. I mean, we are all certain he’s a freak, and quite possibly the tall dark stranger that Louise was dating, but the reality is we are no closer to discovering who he is. To be honest, I am not sure if we have the time to play his games.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Trying to draw him out and putting a press embargo on exactly what we release might just be a big time-waster. Someone out there knows who he is; someone saw him with Louise, and without a big press push, we might not get anything until he kills again. Which I agree with her, he is going to do.’