The Red Dahlia

Wickenham gave a soft laugh. 'The cloakroom? He gestured to the door. 'Straight out and down the hall, second door.'

Lewis hurried out, leaving Langton standing opposite Wickenham. Langton stared hard but he was met with a steady eye contact.

'Bit of a wasted journey?'

'Not at all, it's been very informative. We will be checking on your associates to verify what you have said.'

Wickenham laughed, shaking his head. 'By all means, but you know, they are all very wealthy and well-connected people. I doubt if they would want to go into details about their sexual exploits here at the Hall.'

Langton turned away and looked over the photographs on top of the piano. Wickenham remained standing, watching him; he checked his watch. Neither man said another word until Lewis returned and stood at the open door. 'Sir, DI Travis is still with Mr Wickenham's housekeeper, she said she won't be a moment.'

'I suppose this will mean lunch is going to be delayed.' Wickenham opened a drawer and took out a cigar box; he proffered one to Langton, who shook his head.

'We'll wait for her in the car.'

'Okay I'll pass that on.' Lewis hovered for a moment and then disappeared.

'Cuban,' Wickenham said, holding one of his cigars up, then taking a silver clipper and snipping off the end. 'Can't beat a hand-rolled.' He bit on the cigar; the action gave him a grimace of a smile.

Langton walked past him, and then turned at the door. 'Thank you for your time, Mr Wickenham.'

'I wish I could say it was a pleasure. Let me show you out.'

Wickenham watched from the front door as Langton returned to the car. Lewis was not there.

'Where's Mike?'

'He went to get some air, round to the stables I think, sir,' said the driver.

Langton checked his watch again and then lit a cigarette, leaning against the side of the car. He turned when he heard the crunch of the gravel on the drive. Anna was walking towards him.

'I came out via the kitchen door,' she said.

'I gathered that. Have you seen Lewis?'

'No.'

Anna opened the passenger door and tossed in her briefcase. 'How did it go with Wickenham senior?'

'He knows we've not got enough on him.'

Anna gave a small smile. 'His housekeeper was not that forthcoming to start off with, but once I touched the right button, she didn't stop talking.'

'What was the button?'

'Emily Wickenham.'

There was another crunch of footsteps and they both turned. Lewis, his cheeks flushed, gestured for them to follow him. 'Can you bring the photographs?'

Anna looked to Langton; he bent into the car and took out his briefcase. They followed Lewis round the winding drive towards the stables.

Lewis was standing by an open stable door; inside was the big chestnut gelding. Langton was irritated. 'What, Lewis? You've brought us back to see the bloody horse?'

'No, you need to talk to the stable lad; he's just checking over something with the vet. He reckons he saw Louise Pennel. He reckons she was here on the eighth of January.'

Chapter Sixteen

The Incident Room was waiting eagerly for an update. Langton had ordered a briefing for ten minutes after their return. He began with a brief summary of his session with Charles Wickenham. He had the team laughing when he struck up the same pose and mimicked his upper-class drawl. Then he went quiet, shaking his head.

'He maintained that attitude throughout, denying knowing Louise Pennel or Sharon Bilkin. He was dismissive about any kind of incestuous relationship with his younger daughter Emily. He said he could provide a doctor's certificate to clarify his daughter was mentally unstable. There were no charges and we have not as yet reinterviewed his daughter.'

Langton lit a cigarette and paused; he then looked to Anna and gestured for her to step forward. 'Whilst Lewis and I tried to get a handle on Edward Wickenham, DI Travis was interviewing Gail Harrington. So, over to you, Anna.'

Anna gave a detailed report, referring to her notes. She described Gail's nervous state and aired her suspicion that Gail was taking some kind of drugs.

'She is very, very nervous, very scared of her future father-in-law and, I would say, close to a breakdown. I think she does know more than I could get out of her. She also sported an oversized diamond engagement ring — maybe to keep her quiet.'

Langton coughed and gave a twist of his hand for her to get on with it; she flipped through her notes.

'When shown the photographs of Sharon Bilkin and Louise Pennel, she denied ever seeing or meeting either of them. You will recall that Sharon Bilkin was a model, doing mostly catalogue work. Gail Harrington was also a model and, in an attempt to get her to be more at ease with me, I asked about her work. The press cuttings and her CV model pictures took some ploughing through, but in one photograph, the other model with Gail Harrington was Sharon Bilkin.'

There was a low murmur. Anna asked for a glass of water, and Langton handed her one.

'My next interview was with Mrs Hedges, the housekeeper.'

Again Anna referred to her notes, explaining that it had taken some considerable time for Mrs Hedges to open up. Langton was looking at his watch, his foot tapping.

'I did not really get to the nitty-gritty until she told me about looking after Charles Wickenham's father. She said he was a really bad-tempered man with a vicious temper. He was, however, very generous to her, which was one of the main reasons she remained with the family. She described how the old man would not just ridicule his only son, but was also very violent towards him. The boy was subjected to terrible punishments; at times, he was unable to go to school due to his beatings. Mrs Hedges said she always tried to protect Charles from his father, but eventually he was sent away to boarding school. During his vacations, the punishments would begin again; as he got older, they would result in even worse physical violence. He would tie him up and leave him in the old barn; this was before it was renovated into the playground it is now. When Charles Wickenham grew old enough to retaliate, the old man introduced him to sexual perversion. Every weekend, there would be a carload of prostitutes shared between father and son. Mrs Hedges never even attempted to do anything about what she knew was going on, and there was no mother around to intervene. She did, however, tell me that there was a punishment room, beneath the barn; it had been an old wine cellar.'

Anna sketched out the main house, barn and stables in big square blocks and indicated on her rather crude drawings where this cellar would have been, pointing out that it might have been demolished as part of the renovations to the barn. Langton was now leaning forward; he stared intently at Anna and then at her drawings.

'Charles Wickenham went to Cambridge and qualified as a doctor. He spent two years working as a houseman in Bridge East Hospital before he joined the army. He rarely, if ever, returned home as he was travelling the world; for a lengthy period he was stationed in the Far East. He married Una Martin. Her father was a major in the same regiment, but Mrs Hedges could not recall which one it was. She was Edward Wickenham's mother.'

Anna now began to draw out the family tree, and although she had everyone's attention, they were beginning to get restless.

'Una Wickenham died of cancer shortly after they returned from abroad; Charles Wickenham had quit the army to take over the running of the estate. His father was dying and had lost a considerable amount of money; he had also sold off vast areas of land. By the time his father died, Charles Wickenham was running the estate full time. Like his father, he angered the locals by selling off vast tracts of land and some of the farms that bordered onto their property. He subsequently married Dominique Dupres: as we know from our time in Milan, the new Mrs Wickenham had quite a past. The parties that had been part of the old man's lifestyle now began again. Like father like son. So much so that by now, Edward Wickenham was being subjected to a similar punishment regime to that his father had suffered. He married a local girl and they lived in the thatched cottage he still occupies.