The Red Dahlia

'Dominique Wickenham.'

He had now become extremely nervous: his cheeks were flushed and he was sweating. 'They're divorced.'

'We know that, but before the divorce, you and your stepmother were very close, weren't you?'

'Why are you asking me about my stepmother?'

'Because we have been given some information — well, more than that. We have some explicit photographs.'

'What?'

Langton sighed; he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Let's stop playing games, Edward. We know an awful lot about you and your family. I would say you were a lot closer than would be considered normaclass="underline" you had a sexual relationship with her, didn't you?'

Wickenham stood up. 'I refuse to answer any more of your questions.'

Langton also stood up, facing him. 'What about your half-sisters? Were you as close to them as to your stepmother?'

'I am not answering any more questions. This is not right. I want to talk to someone.'

'Why?'

'You are insinuating things.'

'Bit more than insinuating, Edward; a lot more, in fact. Why don't you sit down and start to explain what exactly…'

'I don't have to explain anything to you,' he snapped.

'Fine. If you don't want to do it now, we can always continue this discussion at the station.'

'But this has nothing to do with me!'

'What hasn't?'

'Whatever happens here in the privacy of my own home is my business. You have no right whatsoever to force me to implicate myself

'Implicate? What do you mean by that?'

'You know damned well what I mean! If you have spoken to my stepmother and she has said things, then that will be her word against mine! She is an unscrupulous woman: she is a liar and if you are here because of anything she may have told you, then I suggest you speak directly to my father.'

'Believe you me, we will be talking to him. I just wanted to give you an opportunity to extricate yourself.'

'From what?'

Langton paused. 'Were you also involved in one of these murders? Perhaps as an accomplice?'

Wickenham was really fighting to maintain control but could not stop himself from shaking and sweating. 'I swear before God, I do not know either of those women you showed me in those photos. I have never met them.'

'Do you think your father knew them?'

'I can't answer for him, but I very much doubt it. If you have any evidence, I am damned sure you would not be here talking to me — you would have had him arrested.'

Langton gave a long sigh and looked to Lewis. 'Can you see if DI Travis is ready to leave?' he asked, and Lewis nodded.

Left alone with Wickenham, Langton tapped the Persian carpet with the toe of his shoe.

'This is a very nice piece; silk, isn't it?'

Wickenham said nothing. Langton stared at him for what seemed like a very long time.

'Edward, don't protect him.'

'What?'

'I said, don't protect him. If he killed these two women, he is a monster. Do you know how we found their bodies?'

Langton showed him the horrific mortuary shots of Louise Pennel and Sharon Bilkin, with the red lipstick scrawled over her belly.

'Louise's mouth was slit from ear to ear, her body severed in two, her blood drained. We found her legs and torso on the banks of the Thames near Richmond. Sharon was discovered not that far from here, in a field, Louise's coat covering her naked body. It was a maroon red coat with a velvet collar; ring any bells?'

'Jesus Christ.' Edward Wickenham looked as if he was about to faint; he felt for a chair behind him and sat down.

'Your father was a doctor, a surgeon?'

'No. No, this is terrible. Please, I really think someone should be with me.'

'In case you implicate yourself?'

'No.'

'Implicate your father?'

'No!'

Langton paused, clicking his briefcase closed. 'I know about your stepsister Emily, but whether it was your child or your father's that was aborted…'

Edward's face was redder than ever and his fists clenched. 'I refuse to listen to another word. This is just disgusting and not true: it's all lies, my sister is mentally ill. She made these accusations when she was sick, she didn't know what she was saying. It is not true!'

'Your wife committed suicide, didn't she?'

At this, Wickenham caved in; he leaned forward, clutching his head as if it would break open. 'Stop this!'

Langton crossed over and rested his hand on Wickenham's shoulder. 'You stop it, Edward. Tell us what you know.'

With his hands covering his face he wept, gut-wrenching snorts, and repeated over and over, 'I can't, I can't take any more.'

Lewis appeared at the door and gestured for Langton to join him. They eased out of sight.

'If you think his sobbing is bad, you should go upstairs. His girlfriend's folded completely and Anna thinks she may need a doctor.'

'Shit!'

'But she's got something: a photograph of Gail Harrington on some modelling job; she's with Sharon Bilkin.'

'Fuck!'

Langton chewed his lips and then said he wanted to go over to the main house and talk to the housekeeper.

'What about the wailing wall here?'

'Let it howl. Get your shoes on and get Travis down here!'

The rain was still sheeting down, so they drove the short distance from the cottage to the Hall. Their car rocked and splashed through deep ruts and puddles before moving onto the tarmac road leading to the main house. By now, Anna had given Langton a full account of her talk with Gail Harrington, adding that she thought she was on some drug or other, maybe speed or other amphetamines.

'I bet you any money his son wishes he was,' quipped Lewis. 'We left him like a lump of jelly, shaking and crying. He may have had sex games going on with the entire fucking family, but somehow I just don't think he's an accomplice; unless he helped to move the bodies. I dunno; what do you think, Gov?'

Langton shrugged. 'They're all involved, whether as accomplices or not. They know what that bastard is, and they keep their mouths shut because of this place.' He nodded towards the house. 'I need to take a leak; stop the car.'

The driver pulled over on the grass verge. To their amazement, Langton got out, walked across the lawn to a shrubbery and took a piss. Both Lewis and Anna shook their heads in disgust.

'Christ, what does he think he's doing?'

'You tell me,' Anna said.

Lewis turned to face her. 'Well, for one, I think we should have a search warrant; for two, I don't think what went on in the cottage was kosher, even though we got a link to Sharon Bilkin. Haven't we got enough to pull the father in, and the son for that matter?'

'Maybe, but you know Langton.'

'Obviously not as well as you do,' Lewis said, with a snide smile.

Anna decided not to reply. She did not want to discuss Langton, especially not with Lewis, who had a big yapping mouth. Gossip had probably already done the rounds of the Incident Room, but at least no one had mentioned anything to her.

They both looked over to Langton who was having a conversation on his mobile as he strode across the lawn. He stopped a moment to listen and then slapped his phone shut.

'Right, that's better,' he said, getting back in and slamming the door. He leaned his arm along the back of the seat.

'Maybe you should chat with the old housekeeper, Anna; you seem to have a way with the women.'

'Okay.'

'We need further confirmation about whether or not Louise Pennel was a visitor, and Sharon. I want to take another look at the family snapshots on their grand piano. We still have not identified the other sickos off the photographs from Milan, so show her those as well.'

'Will do.'

'Shouldn't we have a search warrant, Gov?' Lewis asked.

'Yeah, but we need more. This way, it looks like we are still floundering around. The fact we think our victims came here is not enough evidence to make an arrest — yet! When we come in to search, I want warrants for all the premises, plus the vehicles: get a bloody army backing us up, because this is a massive place. There are outhouses, the barns, the cottage, the staff cottage and we will need a warrant for each building: that's the law. When they started to suspect Fred West, they only had a warrant to search his garden, did you know that? It was West himself who suggested they were digging in the wrong place.'