The Red Dahlia

Langton stopped speaking as the car pulled into the horseshoe drive. Standing at the studded front door was Charles Wickenham. 'There he is,' Langton said, softly. 'Look at him! There's got to be someplace here that he uses for those sex games: cellar, maybe in the barn somewhere. He maybe had an alibi for the ninth of January when Louise Pennel was last seen, but not for the twelfth when her body was discovered. So check out if the ponce over there was at home.'

'He did give us a pretty thorough alibi for that date, Gov, and it all checked out, his club and his…'

'Yeah yeah and that's another reason we don't charge in with the warrant. It's slowly slowly catchee monster!'

They all got out of the car. Anna and Lewis walked behind Langton as he headed over to Wickenham.

'Good morning.' Langton stretched out his hand and shook Wickenham's.

'Not weather-wise: the rain's not stopped. Though I suppose it is good for the crops.' He smiled and nodded to Anna, and then stepped back. 'Well, there must be some reason for this visit, so please come in. I was expecting you.'

'Your son called?'

'Yes, he did. I have to get the doctor to see his poor fianc�e: she's exceedingly distressed.' He glanced coldly at Langton. 'All rather unethical, isn't it?'

'What is?'

'Questioning Gail. She has been very ill; surely she should have had someone with her?'

'She could have asked for anyone to be there; it was just a routine visit to ask her a few questions.'

'Routine or not, we should have been given notice.' He strode ahead, leading them back into the sumptuous drawing room.

Wickenham gave no polite offers of tea or coffee, nor did he ask them to sit. He walked to the fireplace and, with his hands in the pockets of his immaculate fawn trousers, turned to face them.

'So what is this all about?'

'Do you mind if we sit down?'

'Not at all, go ahead. Do you mind if I remain standing?'

'Not at all,' Langton replied archly, sitting in a wing-backed chair. He opened his briefcase, as Lewis hovered beside him.

'DI Travis would like to talk to your housekeeper, if that is all right.'

'Why?'

'Just to corroborate a few things. She is here, isn't she?'

'Yes, do you want me to call her in?'

Anna smiled and said she remembered the way to the kitchen.

Wickenham shrugged. 'Go ahead, but remember she is in her seventies. May have all her marbles in the culinary department, but otherwise, she is very vague.'

'Thank you.' Anna again smiled and walked out.

She walked along the stone-flagged corridor, passing the laundry room, and then entered the vast kitchen without knocking. Mrs Hedges was sitting at the pine table with an array of silverware laid out on an old towel.

'Mrs Hedges?'

She paid no attention, but continued to polish away with some rolled-up newspaper. Anna raised her voice and the plump, friendly woman looked up, surprised.

'I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in. I'm a wee bit deaf in my right ear.' She took off her rubber gloves.

'Please don't let me interrupt you. I just wanted to have a word.' Anna drew out a chair and sat midway down the table.

'Does Mr Wickenham know?'

'Yes, he's in the drawing room with my superior officer.'

'Oh, well, if he said it's all right.'

Anna opened her briefcase and took out her notebook and the thick file of photographs, which was beginning to get slightly dog-eared.

'Do you want a cup of tea?'

'No, thank you.'

'There's one made; I've just had a cup myself.' Mrs Hedges fussed around, taking down a cup and saucer, crossing to the fridge for the milk and then back over to the Aga where a teapot was sitting on the side, a knitted teacosy keeping its contents warm.

'I can't think what you want to talk to me about,' she said as she poured the tea, using a silver tea strainer. She then held up the milk and Anna nodded; next she held up a sugar bowl and Anna smiled.

'No thank you, no sugar.'

Mrs Hedges took a white napkin and placed it down beside Anna with the tea. She sat back down and Anna could see that she was unsure whether or not to carry on polishing.

'Please, don't let me stop you.'

Mrs Hedges nodded and put her rubber gloves back on. 'I used not to wear them, but it's the newsprint, it gets my hands so dirty and it's hard to wash off.' She picked up some scrunched-up newspaper, and dipped it into a bowl. 'Trick of the trade. I never have to use silver polish, just water and a drop of vinegar, it's amazing what a shine you can get.'

Anna smiled, but kept her attention on her notebook, not wanting to get into any further discussions about polishing. 'Do you recall the ninth of January this year?'

'Oh I couldn't say; what day would that be?'

Anna spent a good five minutes waiting as Mrs Hedges yet again removed her gloves and went to a wall calendar. She huffed and puffed, patting her pockets, then taking out a pair of glasses. 'I was here, as usual.'

'Could you tell me about the day itself, if there were any visitors, if Mr Wickenham was here?'

'Which one? Mr Charles or Edward?'

Anna sipped her tea as Mrs Hedges went through her day's routine: how she planned each menu ahead, when the cleaners came in, when the linen was changed, etcetera etcetera. She could not recall anything out of the ordinary happening on that specific day, or any house guests staying, as it was mid-week. She said she did not cook as Charles Wickenham was dining in London. She could not recall what time she saw him return, as she was usually in bed by nine-thirty.

'Unless we have guests and there's dinner, but we get help in for me, you know, to serve and clear. I mostly just run the house day to day. I have done for fifteen years. Before him I worked for his father, so all in all I've been here for forty years.'

'So Mr Wickenham entertains a lot?'

'Yes he certainly does; well, a lot more so in the past, when Mrs Wickenham was here. It was most weekends then, and we needed extra help most of the time. She liked to have big dinners. They used the barn when it was converted: there's a big entertaining room there now. The dining hall here is not that big and really only seats twelve comfortably.'

'So these dinner parties were a regular weekend occurrence?'

'Oh yes, we've eight bedrooms. The guests would arrive on a Friday afternoon, leave sometimes on Sundays or even Monday morning.'

'And the extra help, did they stay as well?'

'Yes, in a staff flat above the stables.'

'Did you serve the guests?'

'No, well, I'm getting on; like I said, I go to bed early. My room is right at the back of the house. It's very quiet; well, if it wasn't, I'd not get much sleep.'

'Why is that?'

'Well all the comings and goings and the music, and in summer they use the pool and the spa, and then there's the stable boys, they have to exercise the horses, and that's always around seven in the morning when they start arriving.'

'So they don't live in?'

'No no, they're local lads, they do all the mucking out and grooming. Mr Charles is very particular.'

Anna nodded, and then opened her file. 'I am going to show you some photographs to see if you recognise anyone. Would you look at them for me?'

'Yes dear but, you know, I don't get to meet his guests. Like I said, I prepare the food sometimes then I'm off to my bed.'