The Red Dahlia (42 page)

‘I won’t be any trouble. I can finish my tea, even with these hideous things attached,’ he smirked, as he sat reading The Times as if nothing untoward was occurring.

The search began. The officers allocated the cottage went from room to room. They stripped back carpets and emptied cupboards and wardrobes. They went up into the loft and, by torchlight, did an inch-by-inch search of masses of old furniture. They climbed into the old chimney above the open fireplace. They checked walls for recesses and any hidden rooms. They found a stack of family albums, pornographic magazines and videos but, after three and a half hours, they were otherwise coming up empty-handed.

The housekeeper, Mrs Hedges, was frightened and confused. Anna asked that she remain in her room until further notice. The forensic officers began their search of the main house on the ground floor and worked upwards, combing the place for bloodstains or any other incriminating evidence.

By twelve o’clock, the search was still very much in progress. Langton moved from the main house over to the cottage, disappointed that they had had no results so far; however, when he looked into Gail Harrington’s bedroom and saw the jewellery boxes, he called Anna to get her over. Sharon Bilkin had sold a diamond-and-emerald brooch to the antique dealer; here were the earrings and necklace to match, which were listed and bagged to be taken in; it was something: not a lot, but something.

The barn was split into two levels. The games room on the upper floor had a full-sized snooker table, and another vast area with a wide, open brick fireplace and two massive cushioned sofas with a long pine coffee table between them. The walls were dominated by racing pictures and photos from horse shows. There were a few knickknacks, a lot of large floral arrangements and a cabinet full of crystal glasses and rows of bottles containing every conceivable brand of liquor. There was also a white wine fridge and a rack stocked with good-quality reds. This entire area was easier to search, as it was reasonably sparse. The lower section had a gym, a sauna and whirlpool bath, plus a hot tub and swimming pool. Cabinets contained creams and oils, and fresh white towels were stacked on wooden shelf units. They examined a large laundry basket, but the towels inside didn’t even look used. There was further storage space under the barn roof that had an access ladder by the sauna. The officers searched up there, but found only yet more furniture that was not in use. Two officers also spent a considerable amount of time tapping on the walls to see if there were any hidden compartments, but found none.

They had asked the stable lads to take out all the horses and these were being walked up and down as each stall was checked, but came up clean. They also searched the stable boys’ quarters, but found nothing remarkable but the stench of sweaty socks.

A drug-trained spaniel sniffed and trotted about. The trainer took it for walks every half hour so it would be refreshed, but so far it had found nothing in the barn and stable area; the second dog, trained to find weapons, was sleeping beside his handler while they waited to enter the main house.

They broke for lunch at one-thirty. Langton, Lewis and Anna pored over the drawings of the house. Justine had described a cellar, a room her father used; however, the only cellar they had on the drawings would have been where the sauna and whirlpool were now located. They were becoming anxious but tried not to show it.

Throughout, Charles Wickenham had remained in the lounge. He had rested on the sofa after finishing the newspaper and actually had a snooze, he was that relaxed.

Anna knocked on Mrs Hedges’s door. She was sitting in an old rocking chair, reading a magazine.

‘I’ve brought you some lunch.’

‘That’s very kind of you, I appreciate it. Is Mr Wickenham still here?’

‘Yes, he’s still here.’

Anna watched as Mrs Hedges sipped her tea and carefully unwrapped her sandwich. ‘Where’s the cellar located, Mrs Hedges?’

‘There was a very big one, running the whole length of the barn. We’d keep all the furniture that needed to be repaired in there, but when they converted it, I think they dug down to make space for a gym and pool.’

‘Surely this house has to have one?’

‘Yes it does, but I’ve not been down there for years: the stairs are very steep.’

‘Where is it?’

‘Behind the laundry room.’

Anna thanked her, and went back to Langton. ‘There’s a cellar here; its access is in the laundry room.’

Langton frowned. ‘It’s not on the survey.’

‘Well, Mrs Hedges has just said it is there; she said it had very steep stairs.’

Langton wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. ‘Let’s take a look.’

They stood in the small, windowless laundry room. One wall was taken up with all the security boxes for the gates and estate; another had two washing machines and tumbledryers, a very high-powered-looking pressing machine and an ironing board stacked against it; the third had rows and rows of shelves, with sheets and towels in colour-coordinated stacks.

Langton sighed. ‘Move the shelves.’

Lewis bent down; they were secured with bolts to the floor.

‘We’ll have to dismantle them,’ he said.

‘Do it: get some of the SOCO boys in here to give you a hand.’

‘There are four female SOCO officers sir, do you need them as well?’

He turned and glared at her. ‘Don’t give me this female crap now, Travis!’

He stalked out past Anna. She could see he was getting very tense; it was now after two and they had found nothing incriminating.

Langton paced up and down outside the house, smoking. Barolli joined him.

‘We’re coming up with fuck all over at the barn.’

‘Yeah, so I’ve been told.’

‘You want to release some of the men?’

‘No, keep going.’

‘Found a hidden room behind the fireplace at the cottage, just a square sort of chamber. You could get up and out of the chimney, if you were an anorexic dwarf.’

‘Shit!’ Langton muttered. This was worse than he could have anticipated.

‘His study was clean as a whistle. We moved out hundreds of books, but some heavy porn videos and magazines is about all we’ve got so far.’

‘Plus the diamond-and-emerald necklace.’

‘Oh yeah, right. You think Wickenham bribed Sharon Bilkin with the brooch?’

‘Right now, pal, I can’t think; this whole thing is looking like a fucking fiasco.’

Just then, Lewis appeared at the front door.

Langton looked over, anxiously. ‘We got something?’

‘Think so: we started to dismantle the unit, but there’s a spring attached — the thing moves and opens like a door.’

Langton could feel the blood rush to his head. He ground his cigarette into the gravel and hurried into the house. The shelving unit was partly dismantled; behind it was painted chipboard. Langton watched in anticipation as it was eased gently back and removed. Langton ducked around it to see what it had hidden.

There was a studded door with an archdeacon arch. It had a heavy bolt across the top and bottom. They were silent as Lewis eased back the top bolt and then bent low to loosen the one at the bottom. He straightened and turned the iron hand ring. It moved easily, as if oiled, with no creaking or groaning sound. The door opened inwards.

‘This isn’t on any of the plans,’ Langton said quietly.

Lewis stepped back to allow Langton to have the first view of what lay beyond the door. There were stone steps, steep ones, and below they could see nothing but inky darkness.

‘Is there a fight?’

Lewis peered around, but could see no connection. A torch was passed in; a few of the team had gathered outside the laundry room. The torch’s beam lit up the stairs but did not reach beyond them. Langton began slowly to descend. There was a rope banister, attached to the wall with iron rings. Behind him, Lewis and Anna followed cautiously.

At the bottom, there was a thick slabbed wall of what looked like York stone. There was hardly enough space to turn, it was so close to the bottom stair. Langton shone the beam of the torch to his right; there was another archway, a door partly ajar. He inched forward, and stopped. There was a strong smell of disinfectant. Two more torches were handed to Anna and she passed one to Lewis as they now slowly made their way through to the next chamber.

The room was larger than they expected, at least twenty-five feet long and fifteen feet wide. The walls and floor were stone. There was an operating table, and a swill table with a big stone washbasin.

‘It’s like a fucking Victorian mortuary,’ Langton said, and put out his arm to stop either Lewis or Anna passing. ‘Stay back. I want forensics down here fast; we don’t go in any further.’

Anna shone her torch over chains and handcuffs, cabinets filled with bottles of medical supplies. The beam lit up an array of surgeons’ saws, all neatly laid out on a table with a white linen cloth.

The three detectives backed out slowly as the forensic team streamed past with their equipment.

‘Get me a paper suit, Travis. I want to be down there with them.’ He smiled. ‘Feeling better now!’

Wickenham obviously knew about the discovery, but had hardly shown any reaction. The uniformed officer who had remained in the lounge with him was relieved by Constable Ed Harris. Seeing that Harris could hardly contain himself, he was slightly peeved that he’d missed all the excitement and scuttled off to get some tea.

Harris looked over to where Charles Wickenham reclined, his manacled hands resting against his thighs.

‘Any damage and you’ll all pay for it,’ he said indolently.

They had discovered the light switches for the cellar, attached

to their own small generator. The cellar was flooded with light as the forensic

team set to work. Each saw was carefully bagged and tagged. One officer was

carefully removing the taps and the drainage system, examining the pipes and

taking a lot of samples. Their voices were hardly above a whisper. One after the

other was finding blood samples. Langton saw them withdrawing some long hairs from the pipes before deciding to remove the entire waste disposal unit.

Another officer was examining the drugs in the cabinet. There was a considerable amount of morphine and formaldehyde in big canisters, as well as a substantial quantity of cocaine and heroin. It was as if they had opened a twisted version of Aladdin’s cave.

Meanwhile, the rest of the officers gathered outside and watched as large plastic bags were carried out; one contained at least a hundred pornographic videos.

Langton came out. He stripped off the paper cover from his shoes and began to rip off his paper suit. Anna went up to him.

‘We going to take him in now?’

Langton smiled. He handed to Anna a clipboard listing what had been discovered to date. ‘I want him to look over this: we’ve got heavy-duty bloodstains and hair, and in the incinerator Christ only knows what. It’s a makeshift operating theatre, with as much equipment as a hospital emergency room.’

A shout went up from the house; they turned as Lewis hurtled out. He was red-faced and shaking.

‘He’s fucking gone; did anyone see him come out this way?’

Langton could hardly believe what he was hearing. ‘Gone? Gone? What the fuck are you talking about?’

‘Wickenham: he’s gone’

Constable Ed Harris had been hit over the head and was semi-concussed. A chair had been overturned and some cushions were on the floor, but otherwise the room was as they had left it. Langton was beside himself. Somehow, Charles Wickenham, despite being surrounded by officers, had done an amazing disappearing act. The stables, the cottage, the surrounding outhouses, the woods and fields were all searched; it seemed he had vanished into thin air.

Anna went to see Mrs Hedges. She was sleeping, and woke startled.

‘Mrs Hedges, has Charles Wickenham been in here?’

‘No, no, I’ve been alone, what’s happened?’

Anna hesitated, then sat down. ‘We found the cellar, and we have discovered a number of items.’

‘I never went down there,’ she said defensively.

‘If it wasn’t for your help, we might not have found it, but I am afraid you will have to remain in your room.’

She nodded and then took out a soiled handkerchief. ‘I didn’t know what to do. I used to hear things from down there, but I couldn’t do anything.’

Anna was through with the pleasantries. ‘Of course you could. You must have known! Maybe not about anyone else, but you knew he took his own daughter down there.’

‘No, no, I swear before God, I was here, here in my room.’

‘Hear no evil, see no evil? You could have gone to the police. You could have done something to protect her.’

Mrs Hedges broke down in tears. Anna showed her disgust by walking out and shutting the door firmly behind her.

It was after seven by the time they had cleared the cellar. The forensic teams departed, leaving the murder team still searching, assisted by the SOCO officers and the TSG. The dogs were let loose, but by this time they were as tired out as their handlers: they had been given Charles Wickenham’s clothes so they could trace his scent, but as he lived at the house and used all the surrounding buildings, their noses kept leading them this way and that, round in circles.

By nine o’clock, Langton released the SOCOs. His own team would continue the search. They were all tired out, but Langton would not stop. By ten-thirty, it was so dark without arc lamps that it was getting impossible to continue the search outside. Their tea wagon had gone and it was almost eleven when an exhausted Langton called everyone together.

‘We leave eight officers here; we start an alert to airports, stations, the bastard can’t just have…’ He trailed off and gave a helpless gesture: Wickenham had disappeared into thin air. They had all been diligent; Langton could not apportion blame to anyone other than Constable Ed Harris, who had been taken by ambulance to the local hospital.

The eight officers who would remain at the estate were given orders to pair up and be in radio contact with each other, taking up positions inside and outside the main house. The surveillance officers were certain they had not seen anyone leave the premises, but by midnight, Charles Wickenham had not been found. Langton, with Anna and Lewis, left: Mayerling Hall. They were too tired and morose to begin questioning either Edward Wickenham or his