Lynda La Plante: The Red Dahlia

Langton held out his hand and drew her closer. 'Can you please look at his face and identify him? I'm sorry to ask you to do this.'

Justine held onto Langton's hand as he slowly removed the sheet. Justine stared for what seemed a very long time. 'Why is his mouth open like that?'

'We believe he suffocated; he was probably gasping for air.'

'What was he doing down there?'

'Hiding.'

'Gosh, I didn't even know this place was there. Is it another priest's hidey-hole, do you think?'

'Possibly. Is this Charles Wickenham?'

Justine stood up and cocked her head to the right and then to the left. It was so fast and so unexpected: she tried to kick her father's head. 'Yes, yes that's him. The bastard.'

Anna and Langton had to drag her back into the kitchen while the paramedics hauled the body out and put it in a body bag.

Anna stood beside Justine as she said she had something to tell them.

'They've just found Father; he was stuck in this hole by the stairs.'

Emily started to scream. Justine held her tightly. 'He's dead, Em, he's dead; he can't hurt you. It's over, it's all over now.'

Anna and Langton examined the chamber. It was hideously small, no larger than a stone coffin. The air vent, a wide strip at the top of the chamber where the wooded stair board covered it, was the exact place where all the sheets had been stacked.

'Do you think it was just an accident someone covered the air vent, or was it done on purpose?' she asked Langton.

'I don't know. If they knew it was there, maybe, but why didn't he call out?'

'If he knew the place was teeming with officers, he would have had to keep silent, then by the time we'd left, he maybe couldn't. There's hardly enough room in there even to move, and with no food or water…'

Langton shone his torch down into the chamber. They could see the scratches like claw marks on the wooded slat. 'He tried to get out; maybe the mechanism had blocked. It slides back on a spring, and it's pretty rusted.'

Anna shook her head. 'I just can't believe they didn't even hear him scratching to get out. Especially Mrs Hedges: her room is directly above the stairs.'

'Right now I don't give a shit: we've got him and it's a bloody relief to me, I don't know about you.'

Mrs Hedges swore she had no idea there was anything beneath the stairs. She was very distressed, and when asked if she had heard any sound as the staircase was directly below her bedroom, she shook her head. 'Even if I had, I wouldn't have done anything about it. All the men working here were knocking and moving things. I didn't hear anything. I had my TV on.'

She broke down in sobs. Langton went into her bedroom.

'He was almost directly below this area,' he said and moved the old rocking chair aside and tapped the floor with his foot. 'If she did know that place existed, then if she had heard anything, she'd have surely gone to check it out. But if she didn't, and no one else knew about it, not even the historical mob…'

Anna nodded and wondered if the girls knew about it.

'They weren't even here; they didn't move in until days after he was missing. By that time, he'd have suffocated.'

Anna kept on looking around the room: she knew something was different, but couldn't quite put her finger on it. 'Yeah, you're right; let's go and leave the forensic guys to do their job.'

Langton had already called McDonald. At first, he was irritated that he had been contacted and then very interested.

'Shit, you mean they found another priest hole?'

'Yeah, and our suspect was rammed into it!'

McDonald agreed he would come straight away with a couple of his team. In the meantime, they cordoned off the area as a crime scene.

The news spread like wildfire round the Incident Room. It lifted everyone's spirits. Langton issued a press release saying they were not looking for any other suspects in the Red Dahlia case or for the murder of Sharon Bilkin: Charles Wickenham's body had been discovered and foul play was not at this time being considered.

Should any evidence be discovered that more bodies had been mutilated and perhaps buried at Mayerling Hall, further enquiries would be launched. As it was, they now had enough evidence to announce that Charles Wickenham was their killer.

Closing the case was complicated and would take days: the thousands of statements and files were all to be boxed and listed. The trial of Edward Wickenham was still to come, but that would be many months down the line. He was still in custody at Brixton prison; his solicitors had applied for bail since the discovery of his father's body.

Anna returned home at eight that evening. They had the next day off, the first for weeks on end it seemed. She showered and changed into clean clothes; she wanted to get her hair cut and styled; she wanted to feel cleansed. The Red Dahlia case had clung to her, but it was at long last over.

Anna had an early appointment with her hairdresser, followed by a pedicure and manicure. She then hit Oxford Street; she bought four new outfits and two pairs of shoes. At home she had laid them all out on her bed, trying to choose which one she would wear to work.

It was strange, having a whole weekend off. She kept herself busy, washing, ironing and vacuuming; she even bought some fresh flowers for her flat. As she carried the vase into the lounge, she hovered, wondering where would be the best place; she decided to move an armchair and place them on a side table. She was moving the chair when she stopped in her tracks: that was what had been different about the bedroom. Mrs Hedges's rocking chair had been moved so that it was directly above the chamber.

Anna sat for a while, piecing the jigsaw together. If Mrs Hedges, contrary to what she had said, did hear scratches, did perhaps even hear Wickenham calling out, had she then made sure he would die in there? Had she blocked the air vent, and then moved her heavy old rocking chair over a possible second exit or air vent? Could she have sat there rocking back and forth, all the while knowing what was beneath?

Anna went to her local library and checked over the books about the houses where priest holes were still being uncovered. She then went to the Colindale Library to use the microfiche to try and locate any details pertaining to the previous occupants of Mayerling Hall. Sifting through births and deaths, she came across an article about the only son of Lord and Lady Hansworth. Arthur John Hansworth had been a pilot, his body never discovered after a bombing flight over Berlin in 1941. He was eighteen years old. It took another fifteen minutes of searching local newspaper files before she read SECOND TRAGEDY FOR THE HANSWORTH FAMILY. Their five-year-old daughter, Flora Hansworth, had disappeared and it was feared that she had possibly fallen into the lake. Her body was discovered eight weeks later trapped in a chamber connected to the old cellar via a narrow staircase. The family subsequently sold the estate. Anna made her usual neat and copious notes, ready to discuss the article with Langton. She was certain that after the hotel experience, he would not propose another 'just want to hold you' scenario. She had decided that, no matter how much she really did care about him, he was not good news. Putting it, him, out of her mind was not that simple, but she was determined to do so. New hair, new outfit, even down to the shoes, she was ready for the next case and she doubted they would be assigned to work together so soon after the Red Dahlia.

The next morning she spent reading the papers, which headlined the fact that the most hunted man in the country had been caught. She made a mug of fresh coffee and was relaxing with her feet up when the doorbell rang. She wondered if it was the guy from upstairs who was trying to get them all together for a residents' meeting; the outside of the block of flats needed painting.