The Red Dahlia (28 page)

Anna copied down the addresses and phone numbers of his son, his daughters and his ex-wife. She didn’t react when it transpired that one of his daughters lived in Richmond.

‘Dominique is in Milan, but she does come back and forth to London to see the girls. They spend most of their holidays with her. Emily is a student and Justine runs a stables. My son, as you know, lives on the estate with his partner, Gail Harrington.’

Throughout he was affable and helpful, even joking that they might find it difficult to interview his ex-wife as she was constantly travelling.

‘Or shopping! Milan is the Mecca for shoes.’ He laughed.

It was coming up to five o’clock when Langton returned to the Incident Room to update the team. The surveillance guys were already up and running. They would check out Wickenham’s alibis and begin the interviews the following morning. Of the family contacts to follow up, earmarked first was Justine Wickenham as she lived in Richmond, not far from where Louise Pennel’s body had been discovered. They now had a direct link to the murder site.

‘He might not have been a one hundred per cent ID, but it’s good enough for me, and we’ve done as Professor Marshe suggested: given him a lot of rope! So good work today; let’s keep it up. We go at eight tomorrow morning.’

By now all the relatives had been contacted and agreed to meet the detectives. They were told simply that they needed to be questioned regarding an ongoing enquiry. Dominique Wickenham was in Paris, due to return to Milan the following day. Langton would be going over there to conduct the interview; by the time they broke up for the evening, everyone was still wondering who would be accompanying him.

Chapter Thirteen

Anna didn’t realise until she got home how much the tension of the day had exhausted her. She had a shower and a quick snack before she went to bed and crashed out. The next day, she and Barolli were to interview the younger daughter, Emily Wickenham, a student at the London School of Economics, living in a small flat close to Portobello Road. Langton and Lewis were to meet with Justine Wickenham; they would reconvene at the station and then go to interview Edward Wickenham at the Hall. The only person they had been unable to contact was Gail Harrington: they were told she was still away at a health farm. The alibi given by Wickenham for 9 January was still being verified, but so far those contacted had agreed that he had been with them as he had stated.

DAY TWENTY-FOUR

Barolli and Anna met up at the station the following morning so they could leave together for their meeting with Emily at eight-thirty. She had said she had lectures at ten, so it would only be convenient that early in the morning. Her flat was above a shop at the less well-heeled end of Portobello Road; the street was hopping with stalls, even on a weekday.

They buzzed the intercom; two other girls were listed, presumably flatmates. The aristocratic, high-pitched voice asked them to keep walking up the stairs.

The front door buzzed open. The staircase had threadbare carpet in an oak brown, the stair rods were loose. Barolli led the way as they got to the second floor.

Emily Wickenham leaned against the open doorway. ‘Come on in. I’m eager to know what this is about; is it the breakin?’

‘No.’ Barolli showed his ID, as did Anna, and they followed Emily into the rather scruffy rented flat. It was full of rock-and-roll posters; the seedy kitchen looked disgusting.

‘We don’t have a lounge, but we can use my bedroom. Do you want tea or anything?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘It’s the second time in six months we’ve been broken into! This time they took all the CDs; it’s a real pain.’

She gestured for them to sit on her unmade bed and curled up in an old wicker armchair.

‘It’s not about the breakin,’ Barolli said, sitting gingerly on top of a bright orange duvet.

Anna took a good look at the girl: she was very tall, at least five feet nine, with a skeletal frame. She was actually very pretty, but looked as if her hair needed washing; she wore no make-up and had badly bitten fingernails. She had her father’s dark colouring and the same deep-set eyes. Anna wondered if she had an eating disorder, she was so thin.

Anna knew she must be very bright as she was only seventeen, so she must have taken her A-levels a year early to be at university already.

‘Have you ever seen this girl?’ Barolli brought out the photograph of Louise Pennel. Emily glanced at it and then shook her head. Next he showed her Sharon Bilkin’s picture; again she shook her head.

‘Were you here on the ninth of January this year?’

‘Yes, I mean, I don’t remember if I was here, here if you understand, but I was in London.’

‘Do you go home frequently?’

‘What is this about?’ she asked, chewing her fingers.

‘We are leading a murder enquiry; both the girls we have just shown you were murdered.’

‘Were they students?’ she asked, without much emotion.

‘No. Do you go back to your family home at weekends?’ Anna asked, smiling pleasantly.

‘No, I go home as little as I possibly can. Why do you want to know?’

‘It is connected to our enquiry. Do you have a good relationship with your father?’

‘No. Why do you want to know about my father?’

‘Just for elimination purposes.’ Barolli shifted his weight; sitting on the low bed was uncomfortable.

‘Do you have a good relationship with your brother?’

‘Not really; I hardly ever see him; he’s my half-brother, actually.’

‘When was the last time you were at home?’

‘Oh God, I don’t know. I mostly spend any free time with my mother. Why are you asking me these questions? I don’t understand what you want to know about my family for.’

‘Do you know if your father or your brother entertains young girls, maybe like the ones we have shown you?’

‘I wouldn’t know. I mean, Daddy is always having weekend parties but I don’t go; we don’t really get along. Has he said something to you?’

‘About what?’

‘Well, that we don’t see a lot of each other. Mother says it’s because I am too like him, but it’s not that at all — we just don’t particularly like each other.’

Barolli looked at Anna, unsure which way they should direct the conversation.

‘Any particular reason?’ Anna asked innocently.

‘We just don’t get along. I don’t understand why you need to know about my relationship with my father. Is he — I mean, has he done something wrong?’

‘These weekend parties; could you tell us a bit more about them?’

Emily fidgeted in the creaky wicker seat. ‘I don’t go to them, I just told you that.’

‘Yes I know, but maybe before you lived here; when you lived at home?’

‘I didn’t really live at home. I was at boarding school and then when they divorced, I lived with Mother.’

‘Why did they divorce?’

Emily was becoming agitated. ‘Ask them! It was years ago. They weren’t happy.’

‘Did your mother entertain at these parties?’

‘I don’t know! I keep on telling you, I never went to them: we were not allowed to join in when we were kids. It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?’

‘But you must have been privy to some action when you were older?’

‘No! Why do you keep asking me? I wasn’t! Daddy was very strict with us; well, with me more than Justine; he wanted me to be a doctor, you know, go to medical school, but I wasn’t interested. I couldn’t wait to leave home. I think that’s why I used to work so hard, you know, to get out and live by myself. Daddy was into his own thing.’

‘Which was what?’

Emily bit at what was left of her thumbnail. ‘Drinking and things.’

Anna took out the photographs again. ‘Will you have another look at these photographs, Emily, and see if perhaps you recall seeing one or other of these girls at your family home?’

‘No! I have already looked at them and I don’t remember ever seeing either of them.’

‘They were both brutally murdered, Emily. One of them, this girl, was called Louise Pennel: the press call her the Red Dahlia.’

Emily was getting tearful; she looked at the photographs again and shook her head.

‘These weekend parties; did your father entertain young girls like these?’

‘Sometimes, but I don’t really know. I think you should leave, because I think you are trying to make me say something about stuff that I don’t know about, and you are frightening me.’

‘I’m sorry, Emily, that is not our intention. We are simply trying to ascertain if either of these poor girls ever visited your father at Mayerling Hall; if not your father, perhaps your brother?’

Emily now began twisting her hair round her fingers. ‘I have told you that I don’t go home very often. If Daddy knows these girls, why don’t you ask him about them? I don’t know anything and I don’t want to get into trouble.’

‘Trouble with your father?”

‘Yes, he’s very strict. I don’t know how many more times I have to tell you that I have never met those girls; you just keep on asking me the same thing.’

‘Did your father have many girlfriends?’

Emily sprang up from the chair, near to tears. ‘I think you should go, please. I am not going to talk to you any more; this is very upsetting.’

Barolli and Anna had heard nothing to indicate that either Wickenham or his son knew the victims, so, reluctantly, they did as Emily asked.

Justine Wickenham was wearing jodhpurs, black riding boots and a thick, cable-knit sweater. She had been mucking out at the stables. When Langton and Lewis turned up, she carried on, saying she had to get it done before the morning rides. Like her sister, she thought they were there to question her about a minor incident. She had driven into the back of someone on the high street and there had been an altercation. Lewis said they were here about a personal matter and needed to talk to her privately.

They ended up in the tack room. Justine was as tall as Emily, but broader and with thick blonde hair. Whereas Emily had his deep-set eyes, Justine had her father’s hooknose. When asked about him, she was far more forthcoming than her sister.

‘I hate him. We don’t speak. Whatever he’s got up to is his business. I don’t want to get involved.’ Her tone was strident.

Justine was unable to recognise either Louise or Sharon but did say that they looked the type that were often at the Hall. ‘Daddy likes them young!’ she said, turning down the corners of her mouth with disgust. She was told the girls had been murdered. ‘That’s awful, but I don’t know them.’

Langton held up the photograph of Louise Pennel. ‘This girl’s body was found here in Richmond, on the river bank.’

Justine gasped as it sank in. ‘Oh my God, I know about that. It was in all the papers; I ride past that bit of the river most mornings. I almost had heart failure, it was terrible. I wasn’t here at the time; I was staying at my mother’s apartment in Milan.’

Langton asked if she lived close to the river and she said that she did, in a rented flat owned by the stables. When asked if her father ever used her flat, she shook her head.

‘You must be joking. I mean, he pays for it, but he’s never been inside it. I never see him.’

‘Were you in London on the ninth of January this year?’

Justine glanced at a wall calendar and said that she had been at her mother’s for the weekend.

‘Does your father have a key to your flat?’

She shrieked and said that she wouldn’t let him near the place.

‘What about your brother?’

‘Edward?’

‘Yes, does he have a key?’

‘To my flat?’

‘Yes.’

‘Gosh, I doubt it, no; he’s not been to see me for months.’

Langton detected a sudden change in her demeanour; she wouldn’t meet his eyes, looking down at the toes of her boots.

‘Do you have a good relationship with your brother?’

‘He’s my half-brother,’ she said, quietly.

‘Do you get along well?’

‘No, we don’t; I have no idea what he’s said to you, but we just find it better to keep apart.’

‘Why?’

She shrugged, still staring at her boots. ‘We just do; I’m not into all that stuff.’

‘What stuff?’

She sighed, and began to chew at her lips. ‘Just stuff that goes on. Edward gets a lot of stick from my father because he’s not that bright. I mean, he’s not stupid or anything, he’s just not very intelligent; for a while, he took too many drugs.’

‘Your brother?’

‘Yes, he got kicked out of Marlborough for smoking dope. Daddy wouldn’t have minded the dope, it was being caught out that really got to him. Poor Edward was really in a terrible state. Daddy put him into rehab, but he wasn’t a real addict. Anyway, it was horrible and now he works for Daddy at the Hall; you know, it’s a big place to run.’

‘His wife committed suicide, didn’t she?’

Justine nodded, becoming very tense. ‘Why do you want to know about Edward?’

Langton said it was for elimination purposes, but she was suddenly very guarded. ‘I don’t like this. I mean, shouldn’t I have someone with me? Why are you asking me all these questions about my brother and my father? You can’t seriously think they have done anything wrong or are involved in those awful murders. I mean, you can’t think that.’ She rubbed her head and sighed. ‘Oh my God, I know why: it’s Emily, isn’t it? What has she been saying? You can’t really take anything she says seriously; she’s got a lot of problems. You know she’s bulimic? She almost died a couple of years ago, got down to five stone.’

‘I have not talked to your sister,’ Langton said.

Justine cocked her head to one side. ‘I don’t think I am going to talk to you any more.’

Back at the station, Anna and Langton compared their interview notes. Langton wanted to get a warrant issued for Justine Wickenham’s flat so the forensic team could get in there and search for bloodstains. It was possible that Wickenham had used her flat the night of the murder: it was literally a stone’s throw from where they had found Louise Pennel.

‘Question is, which Wickenham?’ Anna said.

‘Yeah I know; the brother’s shaping up as a possible suspect.’

‘Unless they are in it together?’