The Red Dahlia

'Like what?'

'I dunno, like she was frightened of something, nervous, always biting her nails; sometimes she really needed a wash.'

'But she helped you around the bar and in the kitchens?'

'Yeah that's right; it's just me running the show. We serve full breakfast, no other meals, and then open the bar at night.'

'So who else works here?'

Joe gave a deep sigh. 'A cleaner and an old guy that helps me with the crates and stuff; we pay him in beer.'

'So you would have got to know Louise.'

Joe straightened up and smoothed back his hair. 'I am engaged to my girlfriend!'

'Really? Does that mean you and Louise were never …' She wafted her hand.

'Look, I don't want any trouble,' he said, and she could see the sweat on his forehead.

'Did you have sex with Louise?'

He gave a sigh. 'Yeah, kind of; I'd sometimes give her a few quid for a blow job, but it meant nothing. Like I said, I'm engaged; it was just that it was there and she was needy, you know what I mean?'

Anna said nothing; he looked at his watch.

'I got to go back to work.'

'If there is anything that you think of that might help my enquiry, this is my card and contact number.' She passed over her card. He took it and ran his thumb over the edge.

'I'm sorry. She was kind of sad, but she could be fun sometimes.'

Anna gave a prim smile. She disliked him intensely. 'Thank you for your help. Oh, there is just one thing — could I see her room?'

'What?'

'The room Louise Pennel stayed in while she was here, could I see it?'

Joe hesitated, and then shrugged. 'Sure; it's being used by the cleaner. It's not a regular hotel room.' They headed up three flights of stairs; the carpet was threadbare and the air reeked of stale cooking fat.

'It's from the Chinese restaurant next door,' Joe said as they passed a fire door and a bathroom before stopping at the end of the corridor. He opened the door and stepped back.

It was hardly large enough to be described as a room; a single bed and a dresser fought for space in the dank air. A torn net curtain covered the tiny window. The lino on the floor was filthy, as was what had once been a fluffy yellow bath mat. A picture of Christ on the Cross hung crooked, the frame chipped.

Anna drove back to the station, desperate for a shower, but there was no way she would have the time to take one until she went home that evening. She distracted herself with the thought that they now had the date when Louise went for her job interview, which would narrow down when the advert could have been placed. That Louise was selling herself to buy new clothes for the interview showed that she was desperate to make a good impression; Joe had described what sounded like Louise's missing maroon coat. Louise had moved into Sharon's flat after the job interview, but had continued working for the dental practice. She sighed, hating that all this might turn out to be a wild goose chase.

Anna joined Barolli at his desk. 'We have any luck with the advert Louise may have answered?'

'We're checking out a postal box; the number listed for applicants to call, we've drawn a blank on. It was a pay-as-you-go mobile number, so we can't trace any contract details.'

'Where was the postal box?'

Barolli passed over his report. The postal box and the mobile phone number had both been paid for with postal orders, purchased at different post offices: one in Slough and the other in Charing Cross. 'If it is our man, he covered his tracks. BT are checking out the line, but he could have used it for incoming calls only. Thousands of those phones are sold; using a very busy post office means there's little hope that anyone would remember who bought a cash order over eight months ago.'

Anna scanned through Barolli's report and then passed it back. 'One step forwards, two steps back. To be honest, I was beginning to wonder if it was a red herring, but we know Louise went for a job interview sometime in June.'

Anna told Barolli what she had learned that morning.

'Terrific; what do we do? Hang out at Paddington station and question every possible punter using the station!'

Anna pursed her lips; she got the feeling that Barolli felt he had wasted hours of his time. 'No, but if BT can trace calls made to that mobile number, we might find someone else who answered the advert.'

Barolli grinned and pointed. 'Good thinking. I'll crack on.'

Anna typed up her report of the morning's interviews. She then returned to Barolli's desk. 'We found no chequebook or bank account in Louise Pennel's name, right?'

'Yep. But she might have had one under a different name; we've found nothing to indicate that she had an account or credit card.'

'Do we know how her salary was paid?'

Barolli pulled at his pug nose and then checked his file. 'They paid her in cash. She was on thirteen thousand a year! By the time tax, National Insurance, etcetera had been deducted, she was taking home hardly enough to live on.'

Anna frowned and leaned closer. 'If she paid tax on a cash wage! What was the rent at Sharon's?'

Barolli shrugged. 'I don't know. No one asked me to check.'

'Don't worry, I'll find out. Thanks.'

Anna returned to her desk and rang Sharon; she left a message. Next, she called Mrs Hughes at Florence Pennel's house, trying to ascertain the exact dates of Louise's movements before she moved in at Sharon's.

Mrs Hughes was evasive to begin with, saying that she had done nothing wrong.

'Mrs Hughes, I am sure there will be no repercussions for you, but I need to know exactly what you gave to Louise.'

'Well, they were just some things that her grandmother had given me. I never needed them, and I felt sorry for the poor girl; she looked dreadful.'

'That was very kind of you. Could you tell me what the items were?'

As well as the clutch bag with the suede flower motif, there was a nightdress, a dressing gown and some slippers.

'As I said, they were just things that Mrs Pennel had given to me. They were not worth anything, and I didn't want them.'

'Did you give her any make-up?'

'No.'

'Did you give her any money at all?'

'No, I didn't!'

'Thank you very much.'

Anna put the phone down. She'd hoped for more items that might have been traceable. The date of Louise's visit to her grandmother coincided with her returning to the B&B with the suitcase. Anna tried Sharon again but there was still no answer so, impatient to find out what rent was being charged, she called the landlady direct.

Mrs Jenkins was very guarded, saying that she paid income tax on her rentals. Anna gave her the same reassuring treatment as Mrs Hughes and eventually discovered that the rental for the top-floor flat in Balcombe Street was one hundred and fifty pounds a week, with a deposit of a thousand pounds.

Astonished, Anna returned to Barolli's desk. He was hanging on the line for information from BT. He looked to Anna and gestured that it was all right for her to talk.

'Louise Pennel was paying half of a hundred and fifty quid a week rent, so that's seventy-five pounds a week on her wages. It would have been impossible to even buy a cup of coffee.' Barolli nodded. 'So where did she get the cash?'

Barolli covered the mouthpiece. 'Turning tricks?'

Anna shook her head. 'If Louise had been working as a prostitute, Sharon would have known; so would Mrs Jenkins.'

'She had to have been getting money from somewhere; she moved out of the B&B after the job interview so the two must be linked.'

Just then, Lewis came steaming into the Incident Room. He held up a plastic bag. 'Two more, we've got two more.'

Anna turned to face him. 'Two more what?'

Lewis's face was flushed. 'Sent to the Incident Room, been downstairs since they arrived this morning. You won't bloody believe what they say. Where's the Gov?'