The Red Dahlia

Anna sighed. Despite all their modern technology they were, as with the original Elizabeth Short murder, grasping at straws. Sixty years between, and yet they had so far been unable to use any of their scientific expertise to unlock the pitiful clues they had acquired to date. Anna leaned back and dialled the Incident Room on her mobile. She spoke briefly to Barolli to see if he could start running a check on the newspaper ads that Louise might have answered. She suggested they first try Time Out, as she knew that was where Louise had read Sharon's advert. She got quite an earful from the frazzled detective as he had had yet another fruitless day's work trying to find previous employers of Louise but, nevertheless, he said they would get onto it a.s.a.p.

She felt confident that the advert, if it was traced, might just be the clue that would break the case. Reassured that it had not been an entirely wasted journey, Anna gave a small satisfied smile: the dinner that evening might just be the cream.

Chapter Six

It was eight-fifteen. Dick Reynolds had said he would collect Anna at eight, so he was late. Anna had hesitated about giving him her home address: it was not really professional, but then again, nor was her eagerness to see him on a personal level. She was wearing a white cashmere pullover she had bought in the sales, black trousers and boots. She had washed and blow-dried her hair and taken more time and care over her make-up than her usual quick powder and bit of mascara required. She opened a bottle of Chablis and left it in the fridge. She wandered around her small flat, adjusting cushions and fiddling with the stereo. It was almost eight-thirty when her doorbell rang.

'Hi, I'm parked out front, so shall we just go straight out?'

Anna hesitated; the wine, low lighting and softly playing CD were about to go to waste.

'There's a nice Italian round the corner; I popped in and they have a table.'

'Oh that'll be Ricardo's. I don't know if it's any good, I've not eaten there.'

'Well, it's always useful to test out your local restaurants,' Dick said, as he jangled his keys impatiently.

'Do you own this or is it rented?' he asked as she locked the door behind them.

'I own it.'

He crossed the road to a badly parked green Morgan sports car. She had to bend low to get into the passenger seat. He waited before slamming her door and hurrying round to the driver's side.

The engine roared as it kicked into start, and he grinned, shouting, 'Needs a bit of tuning, but I've not had the time. You hungry?'

'Yes, I am. I spent most of the day in Bognor Regis.'

'Nothing like sea air to work up an appetite.'

He drove down the road like a lunatic and without fastening his seat belt; the one on her side was broken. She tried not to appear nervous as they screeched up to the restaurant.

They had a very nice table at a booth, with no other table too close. He immediately buried himself in the menu and then tossed it aside.

'Red or white?'

'Erm… red please.'

He swivelled round to signal to a waiter, as Anna took off her coat. 'Bottle of merlot and I'll have cannelloni to start and then veal marsala to follow. Anna?'

She had hardly had time to read the menu, let alone make a choice so, rather flustered, she ordered the specials at the waiter's suggestion.

The waiter brought the bottle of wine, uncorked it and poured out a small amount for Dick to taste; he wafted his hand not to bother. Anna watched as the waiter filled their glasses.

'To us; glad you could make it.'

She took a sip; he drained half his glass and then leaned back. 'I'll chill out in a minute. I was late because we had a sudden breakthrough on this missing kid story we've been headlining.'

He picked up his glass and stared into it, then drank again. 'They found his body in Highgate cemetery.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Yep. Stuffed into a half-dug grave.'

Anna winced. 'It's always hard to keep your distance emotionally when it's a child.'

'It's the peripheral things that go on that take it out of you. His poor mother was just in total shock. She couldn't speak, just sat there with these big wide eyes and tears streaming down her face. Get her to talk about how she feels! — my editor on the mobile — and I am looking at these tragic people. You don't need to get them to explain how they feel, you can see it.'

He broke some bread and slathered butter over it, then took such a huge mouthful he couldn't speak for a few moments.

'So, how's your case going?'

'Slowly I actually wanted to ask your advice about something. How would I go about tracing an advert, placed about nine months ago?'

'Advert for what?'

'A job: a PA, with travel.'

Dick ruffled his hair. 'Which paper?'

'I don't know.'

'Well, it won't be easy; there must be thousands of jobs advertised: Times, Time Out, Evening Standard. They're all computerised, but if that's all you've got to go on, it'll take someone a lot of…' He mimed holding a telephone to his ear. 'Unless you know more?'

'I think it's put in by a male.'

He grinned. 'Do you have the exact date?'

'It would have been around the sixteenth of May last year.'

Dick looked around for the waiter. 'Be like looking for a needle in a haystack. What's so important about it?'

Anna hesitated and then shrugged. 'Maybe a link, maybe not.'

'Link to what?'

Again she hesitated, not wanting to say too much. In fact, she shouldn't have been talking about it all. 'Oh, something that was said. It'll probably mean nothing.'

He finished his glass of wine. 'You mean you won't tell me,' he said, not unkindly.

'Yes,' she smiled.

'Look, Anna, we're having a friendly dinner. I've not come here with you to pump you for any information. I know it wouldn't be ethical, okay? But you have no need to worry about anything you might be telling me being used against you. M'Lud.'

Anna grinned as the waiter topped up their glasses; again, Dick drank half the glass in one go.

'I don't suppose you have had any more anonymous letters?' she said.

'Nope, and your boss man — Langton, is it? — gave us stern warnings that if we did, we go straight to him first. Do you think my note was from the killer?'

'Possibly.'

'God, there are some sick people around. Let's change the subject: tell me about you.'

Anna sipped her wine. 'I'm a detective inspector, so I can be attached to any murder team that requires an officer of my capabilities! That's a joke. I'm still very raw around the edges.'

'Really?' He had the most amazing, penetrating blue eyes. 'So, are you married?'

'Good heavens, no! Otherwise I wouldn't have agreed to have dinner with you.'

'What about a partner?'

'No, there's no one. What about you?' She leaned forwards.

'Me? Unmarried these days; we broke up about a year ago. She's living in Spain with a karate instructor; actually, one I introduced her to.'