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Lynda La Plante: The Red Dahlia

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When the body of a young girl is found dumped on the banks of the Thames, even the police are shocked by the brutality of her murder: horifically mutilated, severed in half and drained of blood, her death is a mirror image of an infamous 1940s case in Los Angeles known as 'The Black Dahlia'. That case was never solved, but now Detective Inspector Anna Travis must race against time to catch this 'copycat killer', dubbed 'The Red Dahlia' from the flower his victim wore in her hair. But there are no suspects and a media frenzy is spiralling out of control. Anna turns to her mentor, the brilliant and volatile Detective Chief Inspector James Langton, but the frictions of their romantic relationship are complicating the case. And then a second girl is found, her death again mirroring the 'Black Dahlia', and as Anna and Langton close in on the prime suspect they uncover a shocking web of sadistic sexual evil and a family's murderous secrets.

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Sharon appeared in the doorway. 'Her coat: she had a nice maroon coat with a black velvet collar and matching buttons; that's not in here, or in the cupboard in the hall.'

Anna nodded and looked to the bed. 'Did she usually make her bed?'

'No. She was a bit untidy. I was told not to touch it in case they wanted to take away the sheets and things.'

Anna looked at a dress on a hanger: low cut, tight-waisted, with a layered skirt.

'She wanted to be a model. She was always asking me about agents and what she should do to try and break into it. She had a very good figure, but sometimes she wore too much make-up, which made her look older than she was; then she started wearing the dark red lipstick.'

The doorbell made Sharon jump; for all her chattiness, she was actually quite strung out. She went to answer the door, leaving Anna to carry on looking over the clothes. She checked the labels of two cashmere sweaters in the chest of drawers. They were both very expensive and one had never even been worn: it was still folded in tissue paper.

Anna heard Sharon calling to someone to keep on coming up the stairs. She checked over an underwear drawer. Some of the knickers were expensive lace, others well-worn cotton. Anna flushed and shut the drawer when she heard Langton's voice asking Sharon for directions to the bedroom.

Sharon stood behind him as he appeared in the doorway. 'Not a lot of room,' she said.

Langton gave Anna a brief nod.

'You do your own laundry?' he asked Sharon.

'We've got a washing machine but it doesn't work that well, so we use the local launderette.'

'You still have Louise's dirty washing then?'

'Yes, it's in the corner in that basket.' She pointed. 'I don't know what's in there; I haven't looked.'

Langton's eyes roamed slowly around the room and then back to Anna as she gestured to the wardrobe.

'Sharon thinks Louise's coat is missing.'

Langton nodded. His gaze swept the room once more before he turned to Sharon. 'Is there somewhere we can talk?'

'The kitchen?'

He said quietly to Anna that he would leave her to it, and followed Sharon out of the room.

Anna did a thorough search, noting the hairbrush with dark red strands of hair still caught in it. They would take that. She did not find any personal notes or letters; there were very few knickknacks and no photographs. Louise's cosmetics and toiletries were a mishmash of cheap products. There were a few bottles of perfume, some expensive, two of which were unopened. Anna took the stopper off the cheap-looking Tudor Rose, which was half empty, and sniffed: it was sharp and synthetic. In a rather grubby old floral silk makeup bag, she discovered several used lipsticks in various shades of pink and orange.

Anna found nothing under the bed apart from dust-balls. She looked into the laundry basket: it was full of white shirts, knickers and bras. She shut the lid and then went back to the chest of drawers. She found two empty handbags: one quite good leather but old-fashioned, the other a small, cheap-looking clutch bag. No handbag had been found. Anna made a note to ask Sharon what kind Louise was likely to have been last seen with. Anna found no chequebooks, no diary and no address book. Leaving the room, she frowned as she heard a sound from the kitchen. She could not hear what was being said, but it sounded as if Sharon was crying. Langton's low soft voice talked on.

Anna went into the narrow bathroom; there was just room for a bath and toilet. A glass cabinet held aspirins and some prescription drugs, but the tablets were in Sharon's name and were only for migraines. Anna moved into the hallway and opened the cupboard by the front door to find raincoats and old shoes. Looking up, she saw two stacked suitcases on a shelf. Standing on tiptoe, she read a label: Louise Pennel, and the address of the flat. Anna quietly eased the case down and carried it to the bedroom.

The old suitcase was cheap and plastic, with a mock silk lining. Inside, there were two photo albums and a worn address book with various names and addresses listed in no particular order. Sifting through the photo albums, Anna was able to get a better idea of who Louise was. There were some black-and-white snaps of a couple; the woman looked very like Louise and, in a number of pictures, even had a flower in her hair. The man was very good-looking but with a laconic, almost bored air about him: he rarely smiled. There were a lot of baby pictures, then Louise in school uniform and as a camera-shy teenager. The more recent photographs were in the second album. There were some of Louise at parties and others of her standing by the Regent's Park zoo's chimp enclosure, shading her eyes and laughing into the camera. A few innocent-looking snapshots pictured her with various young men, always smiling and hanging onto their arm. Anna jumped as Langton appeared in the doorway.

'I need to get back. You want a lift?'

'Yes please. I'd like to take these with me.'

He glanced at the albums and then walked out.

They sat in silence in the patrol car, Langton up front, Anna in the back. As they drew away, the white forensic van was just parking up outside Sharon's flat.

'Louise was not a whore, but close,' he said, as if to himself.

'I wondered about that. She had some very expensive clothes; lot of cheap ones as well, but a few designer labels and some very exclusive perfume.'

'Sharon, I'd say, is on the game; not that she would admit it. Total denial, but she started to blubber when I asked her if Louise was. They would pick up men from clubs, sometimes together, sometimes not; on the night Louise went missing, Sharon scored herself a rock singer and spent the night at the Dorchester. Louise was often out every night. Sharon said Louise wouldn't cook or eat anything if she didn't have a date, so I guess the one-nighters were literally meal tickets! She described Louise as being very secretive, sometimes annoyingly so. She would be very coy about where she had been.'

Anna chewed her lip. Sharon hadn't told her any of this.

'This tall dark older guy is the one we need to trace.'

'Sharon said she thought he might be married, which was why Louise was so secretive about him,' Anna said quietly.

Langton nodded. 'There was also something a bit kinky going on. Couple of times, she'd come back from being with him with bruises on her face and arms, very withdrawn, often crying in her room. She never said what was bothering her; just that she didn't like doing certain things, whatever that means.'

Anna stared out of the window. Langton had got so much detail and quickly.

'The autopsy said there were no drugs.'

'Yes,' Anna said, lamely.

'But she did take cocaine. Sharon said they had an argument about it. After one of the dates with this older man, Louise brought some back and offered it to Sharon. She was pretty sure that Louise was into some serious sex games with this guy. It'd sometimes be a couple of days before she'd return home, looking really knackered.'

'She had some very expensive underwear.'

Langton swivelled round in his seat to face her. 'I think they went a bit further than sexy knickers!'

'Oh.' Anna tried not to blush.

He gave her one of his lopsided smiles. ' Oh? We'll know more when they complete the autopsy; certainly taking their time. What we know already is pretty sickening.' He turned to face forwards again. There was a long pause. 'So, how's life been?' he asked without looking at her.

'Fine, thank you.'

'Found yourself a nice chap, have you?'

'I've been working too hard.'

He snorted. 'I wish the case looked as if you had; bloody nothing. To lose that amount of time before you got her identified was not good, not good at all, but then old Morgan was never what I'd call a fast thinker.'

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