The Red Dahlia

'There're still two stable boys working there, aren't there?'

'Yes, but I have to oversee what they are doing.'

'I'm sure they will do whatever is necessary.'

The two paramedics were kneeling down, trying to fathom out how they could lift the body out. Charles Wickenham's head was tilted back, his mouth gaped open. In a few hours the rigor would slacken, which might make it easier to lift the body out. They had ropes to loop beneath his armpits, but the sides of the chamber were too tight.

Langton suggested they grab him by the head and pull him up. He said if the body got in, it had to be able to come out. The stench of decomposition was overpowering. Lewis stood well back. They had tried loosening the steps above and below, but they were made of concrete.

Lewis went into the kitchen to relieve Anna, who was sitting watching Emily and Mrs Hedges finish their eggs. He took Anna aside and they whispered. After a moment, she nodded and went to Justine.

'Can I talk to you a second, in private?'

Justine shrugged. They stepped through the kitchen door and into the garden.

'We think we may possibly have discovered the body of your father.'

'No!'

'Yes, I'm afraid so. Would you be prepared to identify him?'

'Christ, why me?'

'Well, surely it would be better to ask you than your sister.'

'Well, where is he?'

'If you agree?'

'Yes, yes I'll do it, but for Chrissakes, don't let my sister know, or Mrs Hedges; she's taking care of her. She's still not right in the head, you know; she poured milk all over the table this morning.'

Anna suggested that they walk round the house and go back in via the front door to avoid questions from the kitchen.

By the time Anna and Justine entered the hall, the paramedics had managed to draw the body halfway out of the chamber. It had been quite a procedure: they had gripped hold of his hair and eased his head up, then slid a noose beneath his arms. They had managed only to get his body out up to his waist: his legs were stuck firmly. For decency's sake, a sheet had been draped over him. As Justine entered the hall with Anna, she shrieked.

Langton held out his hand and drew her closer. 'Can you please look at his face and identify him? I'm sorry to ask you to do this.'

Justine held onto Langton's hand as he slowly removed the sheet. Justine stared for what seemed a very long time. 'Why is his mouth open like that?'

'We believe he suffocated; he was probably gasping for air.'

'What was he doing down there?'

'Hiding.'

'Gosh, I didn't even know this place was there. Is it another priest's hidey-hole, do you think?'

'Possibly. Is this Charles Wickenham?'

Justine stood up and cocked her head to the right and then to the left. It was so fast and so unexpected: she tried to kick her father's head. 'Yes, yes that's him. The bastard.'

Anna and Langton had to drag her back into the kitchen while the paramedics hauled the body out and put it in a body bag.

Anna stood beside Justine as she said she had something to tell them.

'They've just found Father; he was stuck in this hole by the stairs.'

Emily started to scream. Justine held her tightly. 'He's dead, Em, he's dead; he can't hurt you. It's over, it's all over now.'

Anna and Langton examined the chamber. It was hideously small, no larger than a stone coffin. The air vent, a wide strip at the top of the chamber where the wooded stair board covered it, was the exact place where all the sheets had been stacked.

'Do you think it was just an accident someone covered the air vent, or was it done on purpose?' she asked Langton.

'I don't know. If they knew it was there, maybe, but why didn't he call out?'

'If he knew the place was teeming with officers, he would have had to keep silent, then by the time we'd left, he maybe couldn't. There's hardly enough room in there even to move, and with no food or water…'

Langton shone his torch down into the chamber. They could see the scratches like claw marks on the wooded slat. 'He tried to get out; maybe the mechanism had blocked. It slides back on a spring, and it's pretty rusted.'

Anna shook her head. 'I just can't believe they didn't even hear him scratching to get out. Especially Mrs Hedges: her room is directly above the stairs.'

'Right now I don't give a shit: we've got him and it's a bloody relief to me, I don't know about you.'

Mrs Hedges swore she had no idea there was anything beneath the stairs. She was very distressed, and when asked if she had heard any sound as the staircase was directly below her bedroom, she shook her head. 'Even if I had, I wouldn't have done anything about it. All the men working here were knocking and moving things. I didn't hear anything. I had my TV on.'

She broke down in sobs. Langton went into her bedroom.

'He was almost directly below this area,' he said and moved the old rocking chair aside and tapped the floor with his foot. 'If she did know that place existed, then if she had heard anything, she'd have surely gone to check it out. But if she didn't, and no one else knew about it, not even the historical mob…'

Anna nodded and wondered if the girls knew about it.

'They weren't even here; they didn't move in until days after he was missing. By that time, he'd have suffocated.'

Anna kept on looking around the room: she knew something was different, but couldn't quite put her finger on it. 'Yeah, you're right; let's go and leave the forensic guys to do their job.'

Langton had already called McDonald. At first, he was irritated that he had been contacted and then very interested.

'Shit, you mean they found another priest hole?'

'Yeah, and our suspect was rammed into it!'

McDonald agreed he would come straight away with a couple of his team. In the meantime, they cordoned off the area as a crime scene.

The news spread like wildfire round the Incident Room. It lifted everyone's spirits. Langton issued a press release saying they were not looking for any other suspects in the Red Dahlia case or for the murder of Sharon Bilkin: Charles Wickenham's body had been discovered and foul play was not at this time being considered.

Should any evidence be discovered that more bodies had been mutilated and perhaps buried at Mayerling Hall, further enquiries would be launched. As it was, they now had enough evidence to announce that Charles Wickenham was their killer.

Closing the case was complicated and would take days: the thousands of statements and files were all to be boxed and listed. The trial of Edward Wickenham was still to come, but that would be many months down the line. He was still in custody at Brixton prison; his solicitors had applied for bail since the discovery of his father's body.

Anna returned home at eight that evening. They had the next day off, the first for weeks on end it seemed. She showered and changed into clean clothes; she wanted to get her hair cut and styled; she wanted to feel cleansed. The Red Dahlia case had clung to her, but it was at long last over.

Chapter Twenty-One

DAY THIRTY-FOUR

Anna had an early appointment with her hairdresser, followed by a pedicure and manicure. She then hit Oxford Street; she bought four new outfits and two pairs of shoes. At home she had laid them all out on her bed, trying to choose which one she would wear to work.

It was strange, having a whole weekend off. She kept herself busy, washing, ironing and vacuuming; she even bought some fresh flowers for her flat. As she carried the vase into the lounge, she hovered, wondering where would be the best place; she decided to move an armchair and place them on a side table. She was moving the chair when she stopped in her tracks: that was what had been different about the bedroom. Mrs Hedges's rocking chair had been moved so that it was directly above the chamber.