'These were taken about two and a half years ago. I started to do some good sessions; before that, as I said, I'd mostly been doing catalogue work. It's actually really tough, as you have to do so many pictures per day with so many changes, but the money is very good. I did a lot of country-styled clothes: me with dogs, me standing by fences in a tweed coat and brogues… I didn't really have the figure for doing lingerie.' Flicking through the pictures, Gail seemed to take a childlike pleasure in showing herself off.
'Do you have a family?' asked Anna.
'What, you mean children?'
'No, parents? Sisters?'
Gail gave a rueful smile. 'My parents both died years ago. I have a sister, but we don't really see much of each other; she has a brood of children and a very boring husband.'
'Do you want children?' Anna asked, trying to steer the conversation back to the reason she was there.
'Yes; do you?'
Anna smiled. 'Yes I do, very much. When are you getting married?'
Gail looked at her massive diamond, and then wafted her hand. 'Whenever my prospective father-in-law allows Edward some time off. He works him terribly hard and pays him a pittance.'
'But this estate will all be his one day,' Anna said, glancing at the continuing display of Gail's modelling work.
'Yes, yes it will.'
Anna, who had not really been paying attention to the pictures, had to catch her breath. 'This is a good picture of you,' she said, hoping that she had not given Gail any indication of what she was actually looking at.
'Oh, it's from two years ago, maybe. It's for a big leisurewear catalogue: lots of ghastly velvet tracksuits.' As Gail was about to turn over, Anna placed her hand flat on the page to stop her.
'The blonde girl, the one standing by the saddle.'
'It was supposed to be a stable, but they just put down some fake grass and a bit offence and stuck the saddle over it.'
The blonde girl was Sharon Bilkin. Anna remembered Sharon saying that she did catalogue modelling. 'Do you know who she is?' Anna asked, quietly.
Gail shrugged and stood up to put the book away.
Anna opened her briefcase and took out the picture of Sharon Bilkin. 'This is the same girl, isn't it?'
Gail blinked rapidly then turned away, kneeling down to put the album away again. Anna moved fast to stand directly behind her.
'I need to take that, Gail. Please just move away from the wardrobe and let me take it.'
Gail sprang to her feet and pushed Anna in the chest so hard that she banged into the corner of the four- poster bed.
'Leave me alone! I won't talk about it; you don't know what will happen. You have to go, I want you to go.'
Gail, for all her skinny frame, was incredibly strong; her bony arms squeezed the breath out of Anna as she hauled her towards the door. She tried to break loose, but Gail wouldn't let go.
'He will kill me, he will make my life hell if he ever found out what I have done!' Gail held Anna in her vice-like grip, their faces so close they were virtually touching.
'Let go of me,' Anna said, forcing herself to be calm.
'I'll end up in a madhouse!'
Anna managed to struggle free. All of a sudden, it was as if all Gail's strength had evaporated. She slowly sank to her knees, then let her body fall forwards and sobbed.
'Oh God, oh God, oh God; what have I done?'
Chapter Fifteen
The bowl of Edward Wickenham's glass rested between his fingers as he swirled his brandy round like liquid honey.
'I don't understand,' he said slowly, his face flushed.
Langton was leaning forward slightly, total concentration on his hawklike face. 'Do you want me to repeat myself? What don't you understand, Mr Wickenham?'
'You suspect my father of…?'
'Murder; yes, that is correct. The Red Dahlia murder, to be exact.'
'But I don't understand. I mean, do you have evidence? These are terrible accusations; to be honest, I can't quite take it in. Have you arrested him?'
'No, not yet; currently, he is just under suspicion of being involved.'
'Involved?'
His aristocratic tone was needling Langton. 'Yes, involved, and the reason we are here is that I would like you to answer some questions that may or may not prove my suspicions incorrect.'
Wickenham drained his glass, then looked across to the drinks cabinet again, but obviously thought better of having more to drink. Instead, he carefully placed the glass down. His hand was shaking and he looked perplexed.
'I am unsure what I should do.'
'Simply answer my questions.' Langton smiled.
Lewis inched further forwards in his seat. Wickenham was not reacting like any other man he had ever seen questioned; he just seemed dazed.
'But you've already questioned my father.'
'That is correct. Now we would like to talk to you.'
'But shouldn't I have a solicitor with me?'
'Why?'
'This is a very serious allegation.'
'We have not accused you of anything.' Langton opened the file and held up Louise Pennel's picture. 'Do you know this girl?'
'No, I don't.'
'How about this girl?' He showed Sharon Bilkin's picture.
Edward Wickenham shook his head. 'Sorry, no.'
Langton looked at Lewis and sighed. 'You have never seen either of these women here at your father's property?'
'No, I have not.'
Langton pursed his lips. 'Could you tell me where you were on the ninth of January this year?'
'Oh God, I can't remember. I'd have to look in my diary.'
Langton suggested that he do so. Wickenham stood up, turning this way and that, then said his diary was in the dining room. Lewis said he would go with him.
They returned a moment later. This time, Wickenham didn't duck and cracked his forehead against the doorframe. Swearing, he stood flicking through a small black diary. His hands were shaking badly.
'I was here with Gail; we were at home.'
'Good, and she will verify that, will she?'
'Yes, because she was ill. She has migraines; she was in bed, so I cooked dinner. Christ, I just can't believe this; it's beyond belief. I am standing here answering questions about…'
'Your father?'
'Yes, my father. You have to be mistaken.'
'Quite possibly, but in a murder enquiry, we have to explore every avenue. We have a sketch drawn from the descriptions of two witnesses. Would you like to see it?'
