The Red Dahlia

'The press have already compared the two victims, more or less due to the fact Louise Pennel had a flower in her hair on the photograph they used; they have not, as yet, discovered that the brutality of these murders is almost identical. I am going to ask for a complete press embargo on any further comparisons between the two cases. I don't want what was done to Elizabeth Short sparking a media frenzy of headlines. By withholding some of the details about the atrocities Louise suffered, we will be able to distinguish between the crackpot calls and a real tip-off, and it's a tip-off I am desperate for.'

Langton's mobile rang and he headed into his office to take the call in private. It was Anna, who was sitting in the canteen at the Mirrors offices. She had taken a statement from the journalist who had published the first photograph of Louise.

'The journalist that received the typed note reckoned it was on schoolbook lined paper; the left-hand side was ripped.' She looked at her notebook and read the lines she had copied. 'Roses are red, violets are blue, who killed Louise and slit her mouth in two?'

'Shit!'

'It had to have come from the killer, because we hadn't given a full press release on the cuts to her mouth. I called Sharon and asked her if she had mentioned the wounds to the journalist and she said she hadn't: now for the twist, she also denies ever sending or being paid for the photograph.'

'Could she be lying?'

'I'm not sure; question is if she didn't get paid for the photograph, who did?'

'Where did it come from?'

'He said he paid a runner for it; you know, they have contacts who hang out, taking photographs at clubs. Sometimes they get lucky.'

'Did you get a name?'

'Yep, Kenneth Dunn; I'm tracking him down.'

'Good, okay; keep in touch.'

Anna had arranged to meet Kenneth Dunn at a Radio Shack where he worked part time. Dunn was very eager to speak to her, and broke off a conversation he was having as Anna showed him her ID. He led her through to the back of the shop into a small storage area. Anna showed him the newspaper.

'Did you sell this picture to the Mirror?'

'Yes, they've already paid me for it.'

'How did you come by this photograph?'

'I can't divulge my sources.'

'Why not?'

'Because I have to pay them, and we do a trade-off.'

'You didn't take this photograph, correct?'

'That's right.'

'So please tell me who gave it to you, or who you paid for it, or I will have you arrested for obstructing the police.'

'What?'

'It is imperative I know where this photograph came from and how it was passed to you, Mr Dunn. This girl was murdered and it could become a vital piece of evidence; so, where did you get this photograph from?'

He sighed. 'I was given it.'

'Who by?'

'Look, I don't want to get her into trouble; it wasn't her idea for me to sell it: it was mine. I make a few quid at weekends hanging out at clubs; you know, snapping the stars as they go in or out — especially out, they love shots of them boozed up and falling down — and their own photographers get bored hanging around. I mean, some nights, I've been there until four in the morning.'

'Who gave you this photograph, Mr Dunn?'

Again he hesitated, his greasy face shining; his dark hair was smothered in a glue-like gel which made it stick up in spikes.

'Was it Sharon Bilkin?'

Anna returned to her car and bleeped it open. She threw in her briefcase as she dialled Langton's mobile.

'She was lying: he got the picture from Sharon Bilkin on the promise he would try and get her some coverage, which he did, as she was featured in the same article. He didn't take the photograph and he also didn't know anything about the marks to our victim's mouth.'

Langton gave a long sigh, then there was silence.

'Are you still there?' Anna asked.

'Yeah, yeah, just trying to get the timeframe organised in my brain. The journalist is sent the photo, or it's passed to him by this Dunn character, who got it from Sharon, right?'

'Yes, that's what he said.'

'They buy it, release pictures; so when did this note roses are red, violets are blue shit come in?'

'Day the article appeared.'

'Go back to that silly little cow Sharon. She lied about this; see if she is lying about anything else.'

Anna was almost out of breath by the time she reached the top of the stairs. Either it really was a long way up or she was getting out of shape.

'It's open,' came Sharon's singsong voice.

Anna found Sharon in the kitchen, wearing yellow Marigolds.

'I couldn't face the dirty dishes any more, so I been doing the housework.'

Anna smiled; the kitchen did look a lot cleaner.

'We need to talk, Sharon.'

'Whatever. They come yesterday and took all her bedding and things from her wardrobe.'

Sharon pointed to the cards left on the table by the forensic team, pinned to a neatly written list of all the items removed. 'I said they could take whatever they wanted; I mean, I don't want her stuff and I don't really know what to do with it. And with no rent from her, I've got to find someone else.'

'Ah, so that's the reason for the house cleaning,' Anna said.

'Yeah, well, want the place to look nice, and no way am I going to say to a prospective tenant that the previous girl that shared with me was murdered. So, I don't want her stuff. They took a lot, even her dirty laundry, but there's still drawers full, and that old suitcase.'

'Is there no one she knew that would want her things?'

'I don't know anyone.'

'But you still have her photographs?'

Sharon blushed and began to wash down the draining board.

'Sharon, you said that you did not give that photograph to the press. It's very important, because if you did…'

'I didn't sell it,' she said, rinsing the cloth.

'But you did give it to Kenneth Dunn. Sharon, please stop wasting my time.'

Sharon folded the dishcloth and hung it on the cooker rail, refusing to look at Anna.

'Sharon, this is very important. It may not seem as if you are withholding evidence, but I need to know exactly what happened.'

Sharon sat down. 'All right, I know him. He's done some snaps of me: a couple for a magazine called Buzz. He works up in Kilburn at a Radio Shack part time until he gets his career as a photographer off the ground. I just bumped into him by accident: I didn't arrange it; it was just a coincidence. We got talking and I told him about Louise, you know, what had happened to her, and we came back here for a coffee. I showed him some photographs and… I didn't think it would matter.'

Anna said nothing.

'Nobody told me not to do anything with them, and I'd already given you a whole lot. Anyways, Kenneth said he could get me some publicity as well, so I let him have the one of Louise with the flower in her hair and some pictures of me.'

'Did you give him anything else?'

'No, he gave me fifty quid. He said he only got a hundred, so we split it.'

'Did you tell Kenneth Dunn about the marks on Louise's mouth?'

'No, no I didn't, I swear I didn't. I haven't told anybody about them, I swear before God.'

'Did you give anything else to the journalist?'

'No, I never met him.'

'Has anyone called you, wanting to talk about Louise?'

'Only calls I've had are about the advert in Time Out; in fact, I've got a girl coming round this afternoon, so could you get Louise's stuff out, because I don't want it? It might sound awful, getting someone to move in, but I got to pay the rent and Louise owed me for a month.' Sharon smoothed her skirt with the back of her hand. 'She was always on the scrounge. She'd say "can I borrow five quid?", and I'd always have to ask for it back. She was always short of money, and she wouldn't buy groceries, she'd just eat my stuff. It wasn't just food: she'd take my Tampax and nail varnish remover. I know it sounds petty, but it really annoyed me.'