The Red Dahlia

Anna stood up; there was no way she could break into the stream of vitriol that spewed out of the old lady's painted lips. She didn't even appear to have noticed that Anna was picking up her coat, ready to leave. She stared straight ahead into the electric fire, her hands clenched.

Anna headed down the stairs, and she could still hear Mrs Pennel as she continued to berate her dead son, her voice echoing down.

'Twenty-six years old, his whole life ahead of him and she came and destroyed everything. I loved my son; I would have given him everything I have. He knew that; he knew I adored him, but he chose that bitch!'

Mrs Hughes appeared at the kitchen door. She looked up the stairs, then back to Anna. 'She can keep going for hours until she's exhausted, then she just sleeps. Did you want to know about Raymond? I should have warned you not to bring up his name if you didn't. She's like a broken record!'

'Could I just have a few words with you?' Anna asked.

The kitchen was as tired and old-fashioned as the rest of the house. Mrs Hughes put the kettle on and turned to Anna. 'She's ninety-four; she's been dying for the last twenty years, but hangs on as if she's afraid to let go. I think it's the fury that keeps her alive. She doesn't even want to watch TV, or listen to the radio. She just lies up there in her own world. She sometimes looks through her photograph albums, her days when she was an actress, before she married the Major. He died twenty-odd years ago; everyone she knew is dead.'

'Did you know her son?'

'Not really. By the time I came, he'd left; they had this fight about the girl he wanted to marry. Mrs Pennel cut him off, and he never came back.'

Anna nodded. 'I am here because a girl called Louise Pennel has been murdered; she had a suitcase with this address.'

'That might be her granddaughter; I think one of her names was Louise. Mary Louise?'

Anna took a deep breath; at last she was able to ask the questions she needed answering. She took out Louise's photograph. 'Is this her?'

Mrs Hughes looked at the photograph.

'Yes. I only met her once. She's murdered?'

'She came here? To Harwood House?'

'Yes, about eight or nine months ago. She's been murdered?'

'Yes; it has had extensive news coverage.'

'We don't get the newspapers; she likes the glossy magazines.'

'Is there any way you could recall the exact date Louise came here?'

Mrs Hughes pursed her lips, then went to a cabinet and opened a drawer. She took out a large calendar, evidently a freebie from an estate agent. She began flicking through it, licking her fingertips as she turned over month by month of elegant houses.

'It was last May, the sixteenth; nearly nine months ago now.'

'Thank you, that's terrific. Is Mrs Pennel very wealthy?'

'Yes; well, worth a few hundred thousand, then there's this house and she has some nice jewellery. She has a solicitor who comes round a lot to check on the running of the house. My wages and the bills are paid direct. I think he suggested she move into a home, but she won't have it. She just lives up there; never comes down here, hasn't for years.' She sighed, shaking her head. 'Murdered; that's terrible.'

Anna did not want to get into the details of the murder. She concentrated on her notebook. 'Do you live in?'

'Yes, I've got a room next to hers, in case she needs me at night.'

Mrs Hughes set down the tea tray and poured from a small dented teapot. 'Place is going to rack and ruin, but she won't spend a penny on doing anything; well, I suppose at ninety-four, why bother?'

'Did Mrs Pennel talk to Louise when she was here?'

'No, the old girl was very poorly with the flu; I never thought she'd get over it, but she did. Louise just turned up on the doorstep.'

'So you had never met her before?'

'I knew there was a granddaughter, but the old lady would have nothing to do with her; I didn't even know her name. I said for her to come back and I told Florence she'd called round, but she said if she came again, not to let her in.'

'Did she say why she had turned up?'

Mrs Hughes dipped a biscuit into her tea. 'She needed some money. She said she had a good job opportunity and wanted to buy a new coat. It was strange, you know, never having seen her before; to be honest, I did think she was a bit desperate. She said this job was very important.'

'Did she tell you anything about it?'

'Not really; she said it was going to take her abroad and she would have to get a passport; sounded too good to be true to me. I think she answered an advert in the paper for a PA to someone wealthy. She'd sent a letter and got a reply asking to meet her, so she wanted some new clothes. She needed shoes as welclass="underline" she had these worn old things on, very down at heel they were.'

'Was anyone with her?'

'No, she'd come on the train from London. She said she was renting a room in a hostel; where, she didn't say, but she looked very shabby and pale, and her hair needed washing. I felt sorry for her, but there was nothing I could do.'

Mrs Hughes cupped her hand to draw the biscuit crumbs from the table then stood, listening, her head tilted to the ceiling.

'She's quiet; probably fallen asleep.'

Mrs Hughes crossed to the old-fashioned big square sink and brushed the crumbs from her hands. She turned on the tap, swilling around the sink and draining board.

'Are you sure Louise Pennel never came here before?'

Mrs Hughes returned to the table and picked up Anna's cup. 'I lost my husband; he committed suicide fourteen years ago.'

'I'm sorry.'

'He was a bankrupt; couldn't live with it. I have a daughter but she emigrated to Canada. I'll go over there one day and see her; she's got three children. I doubt if the old lady will last much longer. Her solicitors asked me to stay on caring for her, so that's why I'm here; I'm supposed to have Sundays off, but I never take them. I'm always here so if the girl had come by, I would have known about it. We hardly ever have any visitors, just her solicitor and sometimes Social Services to check on her health.' Mrs Hughes gave an embarrassed smile. 'Not a very exciting life, is it? But the old lady's solicitors said I'm mentioned in her will; she keeps telling me that after she's gone I'll be looked after, so here I am.'

'But she wouldn't see her granddaughter?'

Mrs Hughes shrugged and began washing the teacups.

'Did you give Louise a suitcase?'

Mrs Hughes kept her back to Anna and made no answer.

'The reason I contacted Mrs Pennel was because there was a label on a suitcase with this address; it was in Louise's flat.'

Mrs Hughes dried the cups, still with her back to Anna. 'It was mine.'

'I'm sorry?

'I said it was my case, one I used when I moved in here.'

Anna kept her voice very calm and steady. 'You gave it to Louise?'

'Yes.' Mrs Hughes seemed preoccupied as she put the crockery into a cabinet.

Anna persisted. 'Why did you give her your suitcase?'

Mrs Hughes closed the cabinet door. She had two pink spots high on her cheeks. 'I felt sorry for her; when the old lady wouldn't see her, she looked desolate. She kept on chewing her nails, saying she just needed a couple of hundred pounds and that she would pay it back as soon as she got this job. Well, I didn't have the money to give her and I knew if I asked Mrs Pennel for it, she'd go ballistic; her solicitors count every penny — God forbid if I overspend on the groceries. I didn't have any cash to give her.'

Anna smiled warmly. Mrs Hughes was obviously upset, constantly touching the roll of curl at the side of her head.