Justine turned her fury back to Anna. “Piss off! You can’t frighten me! She has done nothing wrong and you should just leave her alone.”
“I only want to ask a few questions.”
Anna was caught off guard as Justine suddenly launched an attack. The riding crop in her left hand, she jumped down the stairs, and with her right hand she gripped Anna’s shirt front, pushing her backward and hitting her head against the wall. Justine hauled Anna back to her feet and was about to bring down the crop on her face.
“Stop it, stop it!” Emily ran down the stairs and tried to get between them, but Justine turned and grabbed her sister’s hair, hauling her away, giving Anna a chance to back off. The doorbell rang; whoever it was kept their hand on the bell so it was a persistent high-pitched wail. Emily ran back up the stairs and into her flat.
“Don’t answer it!” Justine shouted as Anna made her escape. She ran to the front door and opened it.
Langton stood there. “What the hell is going on? I could hear screams.”
Before Anna could explain, Justine appeared.
“Get out. Do you hear me? Get out!”
Langton stepped between them; he gripped Justine by the throat and pushed her hard against the wall. “Calm down, you hear me? Calm down or you’ll be arrested.”
Justine tried to bite him; she was almost frothing at the mouth with rage, but he held on and forced her to drop the riding crop. She looked crazed; her eyes bulged and spittle formed at the corners of her snarling mouth. “Arrest me for what? She broke into my sister’s flat; I know the law!”
Langton slowly released his hold. His voice was low and threatening. “You have two seconds to leave, and don’t think you’ve heard the last of this. One…”
He never got to say “two’ as Justine shrugged him off and walked out of the house. Emily was nowhere to be seen. Anna looked past him and up the stairs to the flat.
“The door was open; I just came to the stairs and called out…”
“How did you get in to this floor?”
“Someone let me in; another tenant, I think.”
He nodded, then frowned as he looked at her face; she had a slash mark on her cheek. “Did she do this to you?”
Anna rubbed her head. “Yes, she pushed me against the wall.”
“Do you want to bring charges?”
Anna shrugged. Langton looked at his hand where Justine had tried to bite it. “Strong as an ox, isn’t she?”
He gently held her head and felt where it had cracked against the wall. “Going to have a god-awful bump on the back of your head. Do you feel dizzy at all?”
“No.”
He ran his thumb along the red weal on her cheek. “Well, it didn’t break the skin.” He sighed. “Christ, what a fucking family.” Langton looked up at the closed flat door. “We found some bloodstains at Justine’s flat; they’re being tested. You think this is a good time to talk to Emily or do you want to leave it?”
“Well, if she lets us in, why not, as we’re both here?”
They headed up the stairs and knocked on the door. There was no answer; then Anna noticed water dripping down the wall into the stairwell. They could hear the gush of an overflow pipe.
“Is it from her flat?” Langton asked, staring down.
Anna said it had to be. He put his shoulder against the door. It took a good few tries before the lock gave way and the door burst open.
Emily Wickenham was lying in the bath, the water becoming a deeper red by the second. Langton hauled her out, getting soaked in the process, as Anna called for an ambulance. Emily had not made a very good job of her suicide attempt: only one wrist was cut to the artery. Langton made a tourniquet from a pair of tights drying on a line in the bathroom.
They both traveled with Emily to the emergency ward at Charing Cross Hospital. She was tested for drugs and the doctors pumped the acetaminophen out of her stomach. Langton contacted Charles Wickenham and told him about Emily’s situation. He said little, just a curt thank-you for letting him know. Langton was still wearing his bloodstained clothes, his cuffs and shirt front stained heavily. He went off with a nurse to see if they could find something for him to wear. When he returned, he was wearing a rugby shirt borrowed from a male nurse and carried his own shirt in a plastic bag. He sat beside Anna and checked his watch.
“You want a coffee? There’s a machine up the corridor.”
“No thanks.”
Langton walked off. It was another hour before they got news that Emily was in the clear, though very weak and sorry for herself. The doctor doubted that she would be in a fit state to talk to them, but it would be up to them if they wanted to wait.
It was after eleven when, to their surprise, Edward rather than Charles Wickenham arrived. He said little but seemed very agitated, due not to Emily’s suicide attempt but the inconvenience it had created.
“She’s tried this before; her wrists are like a patchwork quilt!”
The same young doctor returned and called a nurse to take Edward in to see Emily.
Langton yawned. “I guess we can go; nice of him to thank us.”
The nurse appeared and gestured to Langton. He joined her and they conferred before he returned to Anna.
“Emily wants to see you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. I’ll wait here.”
Edward Wickenham was sitting in a chair by Emily’s bedside, reading a newspaper. “I can’t wait much longer. Father said you had to come back with me. I’ve spoken to the nurse and doctor.”
He gave an irritated glance at the interruption as Anna tapped and entered. She was shocked to see how pale Emily was; her eyes were sunken and her skin looked like parchment.
“You wanted to see me?” she asked tentatively.
Emily nodded. Both her wrists were bandaged and she had a glucose drip in her right arm. She gave Anna a pleading look, then glanced back to her brother.
“She can’t talk to anyone now, that must be obvious.” Edward Wickenham folded his newspaper. “I’m arranging to take Emily home; anything that you need to speak to her about can be done from there when she has recovered. My father is, after all, a qualified doctor, so there is no need to worry about my sister’s care.”
Edward seemed not to notice Emily shrink with fear, but Anna did.
“Perhaps you should talk to my superior; he’s still outside in the waiting room.”
Wickenham pursed his lips; he moved close to the bed and whispered to Emily. “Don’t say anything you will regret. I’ll be two seconds.” He hesitated, not wanting to leave Anna alone with his sister, but then walked out.
Anna went close to the bed. Emily’s voice quavered, frail. “Please don’t let them take me; they’ll get me locked up. Please help me.”
“I really can’t stop your brother; I have no right to do that.”
“You wanted to talk to me; I will, if you help me.”
Anna looked across to the door and then back at Emily. “I’ll see if they need to keep you in overnight. I would have thought they would automatically want to keep you in for observation.”
“Yes, yes, let me stay here.”
Anna felt uneasy leaving the girl alone, but knew she had to act quickly.
Langton was still sitting in the waiting room; when she walked in, he looked at his watch impatiently. “There’s not a lot either of us can do here. I suggest we leave and see her tomorrow.”
“Did her brother come in to talk to you?”
“No.”
Anna sat beside him. “She’s terrified of being taken home. She said they will section her, put her away. If that happens, you know we will have a hard time taking anything she says as evidence.”
“We can’t stop him; they’re her family.”
“Isn’t there something we can do? Maybe talk to the doctors and suggest they keep her here overnight? Or at least until we’ve had time to talk to her: because she will talk now, I’m sure of it.”
Langton st
ood up and stretched his arms. “Thing is, what do you think she knows? I mean, we know she was not at the house when Louise Pennel was there, so whatever she knows must hark back to the incest situation, which we are pretty sure went on. But it still doesn’t give us any evidence connected to the murder.”
“But what if she does know something? You saw her sister was vicious enough and angry enough to try and stop her talking to me. It’s worth a try getting them to keep her here and giving me a chance to see what she can give us.”
Langton yawned and looked at his watch again. “Let me talk to the doctor, but I’m not hanging around here any longer; I’m knackered.” He left the waiting room.
Anna sat for a moment before she returned to Emily’s room. She was sitting up on the edge of the bed; they had put some thick pink woolly socks on her feet. The girl was skin and bone, and the white hospital-issue nightdress gaped at the back. She was still hooked up to the glucose drip and now seemed even more frail and frightened. Her hair hung in limp strands around her wan face as she stared at the floor.
Anna sat beside her. “I’ve asked my superior to talk to the doctor, but there is really little we can do to keep you here if they agree to your release.”
Emily said nothing. She didn’t even raise her head when the door opened and a nurse came in to take her blood pressure.
“Surely she should be kept in overnight?” Anna said to the nurse, who wound Emily’s left arm in the black Velcro-tipped cloth. She slipped on the gauge and pumped, watching the dial, and then let the air hiss out.
The nurse was packing away her equipment when Edward Wickenham walked in. He gave a cold glance to Anna and said, curtly, “You have no reason to be here with my sister. I would like you to leave, please.”
Anna wanted to say something to Emily, but she remained impassive, staring at the floor. Anna hesitated and then slowly left the room.
Outside in the corridor, Langton was ending his conversation with the doctor. Anna did not interrupt but leaned against the wall. It was almost midnight, and she was tired out. Langton gestured for her to join him as the doctor went into Emily’s room.
“I have said that we will need to question Miss Wickenham regarding a very serious incident, and quite possibly make an arrest. I do not want her removed from the hospital, blah blah!”
Anna looked to the closed door. “Thing is, with her father being a doctor, her brother’s no doubt given them a load of garbage about caring for her.”
“Yeah, I know, but the doc’s on our side; he thinks she should stay overnight and talk to their resident shrink.”
He shut up fast as the door to Emily’s room opened and Edward and the doctor came barreling out.
“My sister will have the best care possible. This is ridiculous; I can have her home in an hour. I can have her in bed with a private nurse in attendance. Her father is a qualified doctor!”
The young doctor closed the door. “I am sure you have every good intention, but my patient is not, in my opinion, fit to be released this evening. Added to this, Miss Wickenham does not want to be—”
Edward interrupted him, irate. “She’s seventeen years old, for God’s sake! She doesn’t know what is best for her!”
“Then you must take my opinion very seriously. This is not the first suicide attempt. She has also had her stomach pumped, her blood pressure is frighteningly high, and she is desperately underweight. I would say her family to date have not taken care of her health, and I am not prepared to release her into your custody this evening. Tomorrow may prove to be a different matter, subject to her recovery.”
They continued to argue for some time, moving into the small waiting room, leaving Anna and Langton standing in the corridor.
“Well, he’s fighting in our corner,” Langton said.
Fifteen minutes later, Langton watched Edward Wickenham walking away, very obviously angry. He didn’t even go back into Emily’s room. When Langton tried to thank the doctor, he got a cool response.
“Your allegation that my patient is at risk from her family is not the reason I have insisted she remain here. Whatever questions you need answered must wait until tomorrow. Emily Wickenham is a very sick young lady, and, I would say, both mentally and physically she requires treatment.”
Langton put in a call to get a female officer stationed outside Emily Wickenham’s room at the hospital. By this time, it was fifteen minutes after one. Anna drove him home; both of them were tired out. As she drew up outside his flat, only ten minutes away from her own, he rested his left hand on the handle of the car door.
“You did good work today, Travis.”
“Thank you.”
He was silent for a moment. “How’s your head feel?”
“Fine; bit of a bump, but nothing to worry about.”
Her heart flipped as with his right hand he gently rubbed the back of her head. “A right little trooper, aren’t you? Well, if you want to make a late morning of it, come in at twelve, rest up.”
“Thank you, but I think I should get over to talk to Emily first thing.”
“Ah yes; tell me, why were you at her flat?”
She shrugged. “Well, I had arranged to interview her. It was on my schedule before we went off to the Hall, so I had a word with Barolli—well, he had a word with me—and I said I’d talk to her on my way home.”
“Well, cut the risk taking from now on; you should have had someone with you. I thought you would have learned that from the last time we worked together.”
“I didn’t know Justine would be there.”
“That is no excuse! Emily could have had a fucking gun with her, never mind that mad cow with a riding crop: learn to get backup organized. You are not a one-man band; we work as a team, so start thinking about being a team player.”
“Like you?”
“Exactly.”
Anna raised her eyebrows at the irony but bit her tongue.
“See you in the morning.” He leaned across and kissed her cheek. The smell of him physically hurt. It only happened in movies: the moment the heroine clasps the leading man’s face in both hands and instigates a deep, lustful kiss. She hadn’t the bottle to do anything so crass, but after he’d slammed the car door, she wished she had.
Anna parked her car and used the lift, though her flat was only two floors up: her legs felt leaden. Letting herself in, she tossed the keys onto the side table in the hall, eased out of her coat, and then toe-heeled each shoe off, leaving a trail of discarded clothes from the hall into the bedroom.
She flopped down on the bed, arms spread wide. She was so tired she didn’t even have the energy to get up and clean her teeth.
She took a deep breath and moaned. “Oh shit.”
James Langton was back, occupying so much of her mind and heart that denying it was pointless.
17
DAY TWENTY-EIGHT
Sleeping, Emily looked so young and fragile. The glucose drip was still in place; both her long, thin arms were above the tightly drawn sheet and her bony hands rested one on top of the other. Someone had drawn her hair back from her face with an elastic band, accentuating her high, chiseled cheekbones. Her big, wide eyes seemed sunken beneath the closed lids.
A nurse brought Anna into the room. She had been very concerned when she was told that Justine Wickenham had spent a considerable time sitting beside her sister.
“During the night?”
“Yes, apparently; in fact, you only just missed her.”
“Is the doctor going to release Emily?”
“I don’t know; I’m just taking her blood pressure.”
“Will you wake her?”
The nurse checked the time and gave a rueful smile. “’Fraid so. It was very high again last night, but it had dropped a wee bit earlier this morning.”
Anna stepped back as the nurse gently lifted Emily’s arm and wrapped it in the black pad. The pumping action seemed loud in the silent room. Anna moved around to see Emily more clearly as she had h
er pulse taken. She was awake, staring ahead with dull, expressionless eyes, ignoring the nurse. Anna waited until she had left the room before she went close to the bed.
“Emily, it’s Anna Travis.”
“I’m not blind,” she said in a low, bored voice.
“I don’t want to disturb you more than is necessary.”
“Terrific.” She pressed the bed lift to sit up higher.
Anna drew up a chair. “I need to ask you some questions.”
She didn’t respond.
“Have you had breakfast?”
“I’m not hungry.”
At least it was a start. Anna debated how she should continue; Emily was behaving in a totally different manner to the previous night.
“I kept my part of the bargain: you remained here last night.”
No reaction.
“Emily, will you look at me, please?”
She turned her head very slowly toward Anna; her eyes were like saucers, and so full of pain. She reminded Anna of a sick bird; it seemed as if her head was too heavy for such a slender neck to hold up.
“You said you would talk to me and answer my questions. It’s very important, Emily.”
“No. Go away.” She didn’t say it in anger; her voice was tired and wavery.
Anna hesitated and then reached out to hold her hand. “You know, if I can, I will help you again. Maybe I can arrange for you to be looked after.”
“Maybe I’ll just die and then it will be over.”
“Tell me what happened to you, Emily.”
The thin hand twisted and then clung to Anna’s.
“I know about your abortion.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and her hand grasped Anna’s even more tightly. “He used to say how much he loved me; whatever he did to me was because he loved me, and I believed him. But then I began to get sick.”
“Was it your father’s child?”
“I’ve never been with anyone else. I didn’t know I was pregnant until Daddy examined me. He said he would make it all better, make it all go away, so no one would know.”
“How many months pregnant were you?”
“I don’t know.”
The Red Dahlia Page 31
