it.
'Right, we're going nowhere fast, so if anything has come in, speak now or forever hold your peace.'
There seemed to be no breakthrough from any quarter. Checks had unearthed no suspicious doctor or surgeon. They also had no further details as yet from the forensic team.
Langton tugged at his tie. 'We have to trace this suspect, the dark-haired, middle-aged boyfriend; it doesn't make sense that none of Louise's so-called friends knew anything about him. Someone must have seen him or met him; someone knows more than we've uncovered. So tomorrow, go back to square one and reinterview her known associates. We know she only lived at Sharon's flat for six months, so dig further back; where she lived before, anyone found out?'
Barolli held up his pencil. 'I've got a bed-and-breakfast address in Paddington and a flat in Brixton off the DSS. She was also at a hostel in Victoria, but so far we're coming up empty-handed: people are saying she used to keep herself to herself
'Get back to all those places and try again. Yes!' Langton pointed to Lewis.
'We've got a previous employer: a dog clipper! She worked there for some time before the dental surgery. It's also a boarding kennels. She was a poor worker, always late; she only lasted four weeks. Owner hired her from the Job Centre; we've been back there trying to trace any other work she may have got through them, but so far, not much luck.'
Langton nodded, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He sounded tired and ratty. 'Louise was at Stringfellow's and yet no one sees her there, or sees her leave with anyone; that was thirteen days ago. Thirteen! For three days and nights, she was somewhere with somebody and whoever that was mutilated her and tortured her to death. Whoever that was drained her blood and cut her in half! And we do not have a single clue to his identity! All we know is that she was having a relationship with an older man, a tall, dark-haired, middle-aged man. Now from the photographs that Sharon Bilkin sold to the press, someone has to recognise her. It just isn't logical for a girl as attractive as our victim to be able to disappear into fucking thin air!'
Langton told the team about the notes that had been sent to the press and destroyed by the two journalists, who could remember nothing unusual about the postage stamps or franking on the envelopes. If they had held a clue, they no longer had access to it now. By the time he finished the briefing, he was in a foul mood, and the entire team was left feeling depressed. They had only one option: to go back over what little they had, hoping to uncover something they had missed.
Anna did not get back to her flat until nine-fifteen. She hoped her dinner date with Dick Reynolds the following evening would not have to be cancelled. She was on the early-morning shift though, so should be able to leave the station by four in the afternoon to give her time to wash her hair, have a nice long bath and get ready. She brought Louise Pennel's suitcase in from the car and left it by an armchair. She was tired out and so just made some cheese on toast and a big mug of tea, which she took into her lounge to eat in front of the TV. She zapped through a few channels and ended up watching some gameshow in which a team of hysterical women were trying to cook a three-course dinner that cost no more than five pounds. She finished her own meal and decided it was bedtime, using the remote to turn off the set.
Without the TV on, the room was almost in darkness; the cheap suitcase drew Anna's attention as she drank the last of her tea. Even though she was tired out, she dragged it over to the sofa, switched on a lamp and opened it up. The clothes she had taken from Louise's bedroom were neatly folded, as she had packed them herself. She took out each item and laid them on the floor. She then searched the suitcase again for anything they might have missed.
The lining was frayed but there was nothing hidden inside it. She glanced at the sticker labelling the case with Sharon's address, and then looked at it more closely. It had been pasted over another, so she cut the tag off, took it into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Holding it gingerly in the steam, she was able to pick slowly at the corner until she could peel the top sticker off. Underneath, in old-fashioned, looped writing,
Anna made a note of this and then placed the two labels in an envelope to take into the station in the morning.
Next, she began to check every single item she had removed; things that neither the forensic team nor Sharon had wanted. They smelt of a strange, musty perfume, which Anna recognised as stale Tudor Rose.
There was a child's hand-knitted sweater with a zigzag design and some of the wool fraying at the cuffs. Anna could make out a smudged name on its label:
Anna knew that the more expensive garments, like the cashmere sweaters, had been taken to the lab for tests. She also thought it more than likely that, despite her protestations, Sharon had picked over Louise's stuff and taken a number of things. The leftovers were a sad array that even the charity shops would not want. There were three paperback books, well worn, with many pages turned over at the top corner: it was a habit, even when exercised on paperbacks, that Anna loathed. There were also two Barbara Cartland bodice rippers and a small leather-bound dictionary; written on the flyleaf was
Packing all the items back into the suitcase made Anna feel a great sadness for the girl they had once belonged to. The tawdry remnants of her life gave Anna little idea of what kind of girl Louise had been, other than that she had wanted to better herself; the horrific circumstances of her death were a far cry from the romantic world of Barbara Cartland.
About to place one of the novels back into the case, Anna flicked through it; caught between the pages was a folded note written on lined paper. The handwriting was childish and there were a number of misspellings and crossings-out. It appeared to be a draft of a job application and began
That was all; no signature, no name and no address. It felt yet again like a step forwards that abruptly stopped.
Anna lay awake for a while, thinking about Louise Pennel. Could that job application have been how she met their missing tall dark stranger? Anna snuggled into her pillow and tried to distract herself by thinking about what she would wear for her date tomorrow evening. Dick Reynolds had just said a bite to eat, so she didn't want to overdress. She hadn't made up her mind by the time she fell asleep.
Her sleep was deep but not dreamless: the image of Louise Pennel's ghostlike face, with her slit bleeding clown mouth open wide, kept on floating before Anna, as if she was calling out to her. Louise was naked, her skin white as porcelain, as it had been when they had first seen her severed body. She was wearing only the white waitress's collar and cuffs and moved closer and closer as if to touch Anna. That was when she woke and sat bolt upright. It was four o'clock and the alarm would be ringing at six. She flopped down and closed her eyes; so much for a good night's sleep.
Chapter Five
Everyone had been instructed to gather in the Incident Room for a briefing. Anna had already passed over her report with the findings from Louise Pennel's belongings. As the team waited for Langton, she began checking out
