'I need to know where you got the photograph from.'
'Well, that's easy: from a journalist that worked here.'
'You linked Louise Pennel's murder and another case?'
'Right, the Black Dahlia. To be honest, it was a bit far-fetched; I hadn't even heard of the old case, but as they both had a flower in their hair, it was just something to hook the story onto really. I didn't have much else to go on, as we hadn't had a press release.'
'Have you since read up on the Black Dahlia case?'
'No, I've been on the missing kid from Blackheath.'
'So the only similarity between the two cases, as far as you're concerned, was the flower?'
'Yep.'
'You said you got the photograph from another journalist; did he mention to you the Black Dahlia case?'
'No. I wouldn't have known anything about it, but I got an anonymous letter that likened your girl, Louise Pennel, to…' He frowned. 'Elizabeth Short was the other victim, wasn't she? Happened years ago in Los Angeles.'
'Yes; have you checked into any details of her case?'
'Nope; went on the internet to get a bit of info, but to be truthful, it was sort of sidelined by this young boy that's missing; he's only twelve.'
'Do you still have the letter?'
'No. I should maybe have kept it, because you are here and there's obviously something going on, but we get a shedload of crank letters every time we headline a murder story. I spoke to someone investigating the case, Richmond station. I did tell them I'd destroyed it. I'm sorry.'
'Can you recall exactly what it said?'
Dick looked to the door as a young secretary carried in a tray of coffee and a packet of biscuits. By the time he had offered milk and sugar and then leaned back in his chair, Anna was feeling very relaxed in his company.
'It didn't say much; just that the Black Dahlia killer was never caught. It also said that there was now another one, the Red Dahlia. In the photograph we had, the flower in Louise's hair looked like a rose to me, but it made a good header.'
'Was it handwritten?'
'No, it was typed. Not from a computer; well, I don't think it was, because it was quite heavy print. It was on a piece of cheap lined paper.'
'I have to ask you that if you do get any further contacts regarding the Louise Pennel case, you get in touch with me immediately. This is my direct line.' Anna handed him her card. He slipped it into his wallet as she put her coffee cup back into the saucer. 'Thank you very much for your time.'
'My pleasure. Have you had lunch?'
'Pardon?'
'I said, have you had lunch? Only I haven't, and there's a nice pub a few minutes away.'
She flushed and buttoned her coat, unable to look at him. 'I have to get back, but thank you for the invitation.'
By the time Dick Reynolds had led Anna back through the maze of corridors and out to her Mini, she had agreed to have dinner with him the following evening. She was feeling very pleased with herself; it had been a long time since she had been attracted to anyone and she had liked him from the moment she had set eyes on him.
Reynolds was soon back at his desk, logged onto the internet. As they had not had a press release detailing the exact similarities, he still believed it was a case of both victims being very pretty girls who wore flowers in their hair and who were only twenty-two when they were killed. He hadn't realised how much information there was: an entire website for the Elizabeth Short murder which detailed much more appalling similarities; with almost sixty years between the two murders, he decided to concentrate on his missing schoolboy story — for the time being, at any rate.
Chapter Four
Anna sat with a surly Langton in his office. 'I knew that silly girl was lying,' he said.
'They sold the photograph for a hundred pounds; split it fifty-fifty.'
'I can read,' he said, as he flipped through her report detailing her interviews with Sharon, Ken Dunn and Dick Reynolds. 'So if they were notes written by the killer, we've lost them! Maybe they were just as they said — some crank.'
'No!'
Langton looked up.
'The first note mentioned the cuts to Louise Pennel's mouth — that detail had not been released. The second was more like a teaser; the journalist had never heard of the Black Dahlia, so just presumed it was the flower connection. Both letters, I think, came from the killer.'
'Really?'
'Yes.'
'Well this last journalist didn't bite or use it, did he?'
'Because he presumed—'
'Yes, yes! That it was just a crank, like the bloody phone calls we've had from all the nutters. I'm just surprised that neither kept the notes. Probably wet behind the ears; an old pro wouldn't have tossed it.'
'Well, neither of them are old,' Anna said, and felt a hot flush spreading over her cheeks.
Langton leaned back in his chair and grinned. 'Weren't they now? Well, word of warning: you can never trust them, young or old. I would put money on the fact that, after your visit, they'll be beavering around to see what they can dig up, and that worries me. Yes?'
Lewis had tapped the door and peered in. 'You want all the files to go over to the hotel?'
Langton nodded. Lewis closed the door again.
'Bringing in a profiler. Don't know if we can get Parks, as he's writing some book and doing a freebie on the Cunard.'
'What?'
Langton stood up and yawned. 'Profiler we used for the Alan Daniels case. He's since become quite a high- profile himself, so I dunno who we'll get in to look over the case. But whoever it is, I hope to Christ they can help us, as we've still got fuck all.'
He perched on the corner of his desk. 'I don't suppose Sharon gave us any more details on this tall dark stranger and his shiny fucking car?'
'No.'
'Well we've got nothing from anyone else either. I am loath to do a TV slot: if the facts get out, it'll create a nightmare. You know, they never released the details on exactly how the Yorkshire Ripper killed.'
'He murdered eleven women, so maybe they should have,' Anna said tetchily.
Langton ignored her tone. 'They didn't with Fred West, either. Apparently it puts readers off: too much gore and they won't buy the paper; they need just enough to titillate their appetite. We give anything near the truth with our case and it'll create mayhem. I'm going for a press embargo.'
'But we need help from someone,' Anna said, standing.
'I am aware of that,' he snapped and barged out into the Incident Room. Anna picked up her report and followed, as there was to be a briefing any minute.
Langton paced up and down in front of the Incident Room board. He constantly pulled at his hair so it stood up on end; his tie was loose and his five-o'clock shadow made his face look hollow. Anna wondered how long it would be before the Commander paid a visit; her office must be monitoring the progress on their case, or lack of
