The Red Dahlia

Lewis showed him the drawing of their suspect. He glanced at it and shrugged.

'To be honest, that could be any one of a few customers I have dealt with over the years. Is he in the business?'

'He is a suspect.'

'Ah well, I wish I could be of more assistance.'

'We hope so too, Mr Collins. You see, that money we have traced to you was found in a victim's flat; this is a murder enquiry.'

'Oh Christ. Let me get my other glasses and check my sales books.'

They waited silently as he sat thumbing through one book after another. Lewis sighed; he was pretty sure what he was witnessing was one set of accounts for the taxman and another that never saw the light of day.

'This could be it.' Collins tapped a page. 'It was at the Kensington Town Hall antique fair; over three months ago, I had a stall there. Yes, this could be it, but I paid more than a thousand: it was actually two and a half thousand.'

'Do you have the address of the person who sold you the item?'

'No no, I'm afraid I don't. I'm also afraid I don't have the brooch. I sold it.'

He flicked through another book and then pointed. 'Yes, I sold it to an American dealer; it was an Art Deco diamond-and-emerald brooch, a very nice piece, in good condition. I have the address of the buyer here.'

Lewis chewed his lip and waited as Collins jotted down the name and address of a woman in Chicago. Terrific!

Barolli was becoming impatient and leaned forwards. 'Okay Mr Collins, what's important to us is who sold you the brooch.'

'A young woman; she said she had inherited it from her grandmother.'

'Do you have her name?'

Collins became more flustered. 'No, as I said, it was brought to the fair. I looked at it, then went over to a friend of mine who deals in jewellery and he said it was a very good price; in fact, an exceptionally good price.'

'Can you describe the woman who sold it?'

'Yes, yes: young, blonde, quite attractive.'

Lewis took out the photograph of Sharon Bilkin. 'This woman?'

'Yes, yes that's her. I'm certain of it.'

Langton sat at his desk as Lewis explained what they had discovered from the antique dealer.

'What might have happened is that someone gave Sharon the brooch, she then takes it to the antique fair to sell. I think the dealer was telling us the truth. We can double-check with the guy who said the brooch was a good buy; maybe also verify it was Sharon Bilkin selling it.'

'Go back and question any of Sharon's associates; see if they know anything about how she got this brooch.'

'Do you want us to try and find the woman that bought it?'

'In Chicago? Do me a favour!'

'Someone might recognise it,' Lewis said, flatly.

'Yeah, yeah, maybe try and give her a call. Do you have a number?'

'No.'

'Fucking brilliant! Did you get a description of it?' Lewis shifted his weight. 'Yeah, it was a diamond-and-emerald cluster, like a flower, Art Deco, platinum clasp and safety pin.'

Langton gave an open-handed gesture. 'Get on to it.'

Lewis nodded and walked out, leaving Langton moodily checking over copies of the notes sent in by their suspected killer.

Anna was sifting through her notes and making a list of the people she had talked to about Sharon. She was about to print off a page of names and addresses when Bridget signalled to her from across the room.

'It's her again!' she mouthed.

Anna reached for the phone. 'Hello, this is DI Anna Travis. I am part of the Red Dahlia murder enquiry team. We really appreciate anyone calling who can give us any help.'

Anna listened; the woman was crying.

'If whatever you have to say to us is worrying you, then just stay calm, take deep breaths. Your call will be treated with…'

'This is the Red Dahlia murder, isn't it?' The caller's voice was high-pitched and frightened.

'Yes, that is correct. Would you like to give me your name and then I could come round and see you? It might be easier than talking on the phone.'

'No, no, I can't, I can't do that. I don't want you to know who I am.'

Anna kept her voice calm and steady. They were trying to get another trace on the call. 'But you do have something you want to tell me?'

'Yes.' Her voice was fainter, as if she was standing away from the phone.

'And this is connected to the Red Dahlia murder?'

'Yes, yes!' She was close again now and her voice had become shrill.

'So let's just stay calm. My name is Anna, so if you would like to tell me, then I will deal with whatever it is.'

Pause.

Anna looked at Bridget, frustrated: it sounded like the caller was going to hang up again. 'You have been very brave so far; it must have taken a lot of guts to call. If you have some information about someone you know — is that right?'

'Oh, Christ. I can't do this!'

'Just tell me what it is; you'll feel a lot calmer once it's over and done with and… hello? Hello?'

Anna was furious; she'd lost her. But then the caller started to mutter something inaudible: she was still on the line.

'I can't hear what you're saying.'

'I think it's him.'

'I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear what you said.'

'I think I know who it is. Oh Christ, this is terrible, this is awful, and he'll know it was me, he'll find out and he'll kill me, he'll hurt me!'

Again Anna thought she was about to hang up, but she was still there, breathing erratically as she tried not to cry.

'Who are you talking about? And if you are afraid of this person, then we can help you.'

'No you can't!'

'We can protect you.'

'No you can't.'

'Why don't you just tell me what you know and then I will be able to help you. If you don't want me to know who you are, then that's all right; it's just that if you do have information that can help us…'

It was like pulling teeth. The woman sounded stoned or drunk; her voice had grown more slurred during the call.

'Hello? Are you still there?' Anna listened.

She looked over to the guys tracing the call. They put their thumbs down and gave the signal for Anna to keep her talking.

There was a long pause and then the caller said very clearly: 'His name is Charles Henry Wickenham; Doctor Charles Henry Wickenham.'

The phone went dead. Anna stared at the receiver.

Chapter Eleven

DAY TWENTY-TWO

The team tried not to get their hopes up over this new development: the caller could be a wife or a mistress with a grievance, wanting to create as much trouble as possible. Nevertheless, there was a real buzz in the Incident Room the next morning. Before they could even think of questioning Doctor Charles Henry Wickenham, they needed to find out who he was.

The woman's last call to the Incident Room was traced to a call box in Guildford, but the address listed for Dr Wickenham was for a very substantial property in a village ten miles outside Petworth. Mayerling Hall was a Grade II listed house with quite a history: King Henry VIII was said to have used it at one time as a hunting lodge. The team had been able to secure plans of the property from the council, as there had been many extensions built onto the original house over the years. The estate included stables, outhouses, a staff cottage, outdoor swimming pool, and a barn that had been converted into a fully equipped gymnasium.