The Red Dahlia at-2

by Lynda La Plante

  'I am here to ask you about the time you lived in the same hostel as Louise Pennel.'

  'Yes, I know, you said that on the phone, but I don't know what I can tell you. I mean, I've not seen her for a long time.'

  'Can you tell me a little about the time you were there?'

  He nodded. 'I was there for nine months. It was in Brixton; my social worker got me in there.'

  'Did you know Louise?'

  'Not really; I saw her the odd times she was in the recreational room. It was similar to this. She liked to watch the soaps. I wouldn't say that I got to know her; we just had a few chats. She was signing on at the Job Centre so I saw her there, and once we got a bus back to the hostel together. She was very nice. It's a terrible, terrible thing: I mean, she was only twenty, wasn't she?'

  'Twenty-two. Did you meet any of her friends?'

  'No, I never saw her with anybody outside the hostel.'

  'When she left, did you maintain any contact with her?'

  'No, like I said, I didn't know her that well. She got work at some clinic, doctor's or dentist's, quite a distance from the hostel, which I suppose is why she left.'

  Anna took out a photograph and showed it to him. 'Are you in this photograph?'

  He stared at it for a moment, then nodded. 'Yes, the hostel organised a bus trip to the Regent's Park zoo one Bank Holiday. I'd forgotten about that.'

  Anna leaned forward. 'Do you know anyone else in this photograph?'

  'That's me; the other bloke is Colin someone or other: he was staying at the hostel as well.' He frowned. 'They didn't like each other, Colin and her. They had some kind of argument over something stupid, like who had ordered Coke or orange juice; he said something to her and she got really uptight: they had a bit of a slanging match and then she walked off, didn't come back with us. She got in really late and I think she got told off because the door closed at eleven.'

  'Do you know where this Colin is living now?'

  'No.'

  'Is there anything else you can recall about Louise?'

  'She put it about a bit.'

  'What do you mean?'

  He leaned back, embarrassed. Anna waited.

  'I mean, I dunno for sure, but we used to sort of talk about it, because she didn't have a job; this was before she got work at the clinic, right? There was a bar across the street and she used to go in there, and sort of get blokes to pay for meals and other things.'

  'Sex?'

  'I dunno, but we reckoned she was on the game. Not seriously, though.'

  'What do you mean by that?'

  'Well, she had to be in the hostel at eleven, so it wasn't as if she was out on the streets all night.'

  'But you think she was picking up men?'

  'Yeah.' He flushed.

  'Did you actually see her doing this?'

  He shook his head.

  'When was the last time you saw Louise?'

  'You mean apart from at the hostel?'

  'Yes.'

  'I never saw her again; she never even said goodbye to anyone.'

  Anna returned to her car, the smell of nicotine in her nostrils and on her clothes. The hostel had been a forlorn place, almost on a par with the bed-and-breakfast hotel she next went to in Paddington. Louise had stayed here before moving to live at Sharon's flat. The residents were mostly travelling salesmen and she began to feel it was going to be another waste of time. The woman that managed the hotel was Lebanese, and not very friendly: Mrs Ashkar had already been questioned by DS Barolli and resented having to repeat herself to Anna. She glanced at the photographs and said she did not know anyone; the only person she did know was the victim Louise Pennel and she said that she was very sorry for what had happened to her.

  'Did she ever bring back anyone to the hotel?'

  'No, not that I knew of, but a couple of times she was with some of the guests at the bar.'

  Anna listed a few names taken from Louise's address book. Again, there was no one Mrs Ashkar recognised as ever staying at the hotel, though she did at least flick perfunctorily through the hotel register, her red nail varnish chipped, before shaking her head. Anna next showed the drawing of their suspect.

  'Did you ever see Louise with this man, or someone similar? He's tall, well dressed, sometimes wears a long draped black or charcoal grey coat.'

  Mrs Ashkar shrugged. 'No.' She had a thick, guttural accent.

  'Do you have someone at the bar I could talk to?'

  'We don't have a full-time barman. Joe works at the bar and in the kitchens; she used to help sometimes.'

  'I'm sorry?

  'I said, she worked in the kitchens sometimes, washing up, cleaning; she was always short of money. Sometimes she would help the cleaner in the morning make up the beds.'

  'So this helped pay her bills?'

  'Yes, she was moved out of one of the bigger rooms to the boxroom at the back. Joe used to get her to wash the glasses at the bar. I told all this to the other man that came round asking.'

  'Is Joe here? I'd like to speak to him.'

  Mrs Ashkar gave a sigh and then spoke into an intercom phone in Arabic.

  'Go through the double doors, he'll come out and see you.'

  'Thank you,' Anna said, disliking the woman's attitude. The so-called bar-cum-lounge was dark and dingy with old maroon velvet curtains and an overpowering smell of stale cigarettes and alcohol. There were a couple of easy chairs and a sofa, all threadbare, and a maroon and yellow carpet whose swirls were heavily stained. The bar itself was a glass-fronted, kidney-shaped counter in the corner of the room. Glasses and bottles were stacked on a shelf behind it alongside packets of peanuts and crisps in open boxes.

  Anna turned as Joe breezed in. He was broad-shouldered and unshaven in a stained T-shirt and jeans; his pitch-dark hair was oiled back from his swarthy face and he had a jaded, handsome look. He smiled warmly at Anna and shook her hand. His hands were big, square and rough.

  Annie went through the photographs and the names from Louise's address book. No result. When he was asked if any of the customers were friendly with her, he shrugged.

  'Sure; she was always in here and if they bought her drinks, she'd sometimes stay up until two in the morning.'

  'Did she favour anyone special?'

  He shook his head, then went behind the nasty little bar and opened a beer. He proffered one to Anna but she refused. He took a swig then placed the bottle on a stained beer mat.

  'She would sometimes go out to the station.'

  'I'm sorry?

  'I said she went round to the station, picked up men there.'

  He gulped more beer, and then burped. 'Excuse me.'

  'Did she bring them back here?'

  'No way, not allowed: you get one tart and they come round like ants.'

  'Did you ever see her with any regular man?'

  'No, she was usually on her own; it always took a few drinks before she loosened up, then she'd be laughing and joking with us.'

  Joe turned as the sour-faced Mrs Ashkar walked in, stared pointedly at them and walked out again.

  'I better get back to work.' He drained his beer and tossed the bottle into a crate beneath the bar. 'I was sad to see her go, she was quite a fixture, but she'd found a flat over near Baker Street. She was excited about some new job prospect that was going to pay her a shedload of money.'

  Anna at last felt she might be getting somewhere. 'Did she tell you anything about the job?'

  'Not much; to be honest, I wasn't sure if it was true: she could spin some stories, especially after a few drinks.'

  'Joe, it is very important that you try and remember anything she told you about this job.'

  He shrugged. 'I only know she answered an advert. I think she worked in some dental clinic; she went out every day in the same clothes: white shirt and black skirt. I know she hated her job, they paid her peanuts, but she said she didn't have any qualifications. I think she was a receptionist, but she often didn't bother going; hung out here and helped
change the sheets and stuff like that.'

  'I know she worked for a dentist. This other job, can you remember anything she said about it?'

  Mrs Ashkar walked in again; this time she said something to Joe and he looked at Anna.

  'I got to go back to work.'

  Anna whipped round and glared at Mrs Ashkar. 'A young girl that stayed here was murdered. I would appreciate it if you did not interrupt my conversation. I would hate to have to return here in a patrol car, with uniformed officers.'

  It had the desired effect: Mrs Ashkar turned on her heel, the door swung open and shut behind her. Joe took a cloth, sprayed it with glass cleaner and began to wipe down the glass on top of the bar.

  'Go on please, Joe.'

  'Well, like I said, I knew she wanted to find other work; she even asked if we needed anyone here, you know, on a permanent basis, but we didn't. She was always skint and late paying her bill. One night, when she'd had a few too many, she started crying. She said she'd been to see some relative to borrow some money — she had a job interview and wanted to look good — but they'd refused to help her out. She'd called in sick at her work; she'd taken the day off to go somewhere.'

  'Bognor Regis.'

  He looked surprised. 'Yeah, right. I knew she'd been somewhere, because she had this big suitcase. In fact, I helped her take it up to her room. She had a couple of things she wanted me to buy.'

  'Exactly what did she offer you?'

  'Couple of little silver boxes and a candlestick.'

  Anna asked how much he had given to Louise for the items. Joe hesitated.

  'How much?'

  'Twenty quid,' he said at last, somewhat embarrassed. Anna was certain the candlestick alone would have been worth a lot more, but did not pursue it.

  'Was it after she came back with the suitcase that she told you about her new job?'

  He nodded. 'She never said much about the job, just that she wanted to make an impression and needed money to get some new clothes. The next night she went out, probably to the station; I say that, because she had to have got money from somewhere: a few days later, she passed me in the reception and I hardly recognised her, she was so smart — a reddish coat, high-heeled shoes — when I said how good she looked, she laughed. She told me to keep my fingers crossed as she was going for the interview. I reckoned she must have got the job, because she moved out to this place she said she'd found in Baker Street a week or so later.'

  Anna took a deep breath. 'Can you remember the exact date this job interview happened?'

  Joe nodded and walked out. Anna heard a gabble of Arabic: Mrs Ashkar was obviously having another go at him. He returned with the hotel registry book and began to flick through it to find the date four days before Louise had left — it was 10 June.

  Anna jotted the date down and smiled. 'Thank you. I really appreciate your help.'

  'That's okay. I'm sorry about what happened to her.'

  'Did you like her?'

  He shrugged. 'She was very pretty, but there was something odd about her that sort of put you off.'

  'Like what?'

  'I dunno, like she was frightened of something, nervous, always biting her nails; sometimes she really needed a wash.'

  'But she helped you around the bar and in the kitchens?'

  'Yeah that's right; it's just me running the show. We serve full breakfast, no other meals, and then open the bar at night.'

  'So who else works here?'

  Joe gave a deep sigh. 'A cleaner and an old guy that helps me with the crates and stuff; we pay him in beer.'

  'So you would have got to know Louise.'

  Joe straightened up and smoothed back his hair. 'I am engaged to my girlfriend!'

  'Really? Does that mean you and Louise were never …' She wafted her hand.

  'Look, I don't want any trouble,' he said, and she could see the sweat on his forehead.

  'Did you have sex with Louise?'

  He gave a sigh. 'Yeah, kind of; I'd sometimes give her a few quid for a blow job, but it meant nothing. Like I said, I'm engaged; it was just that it was there and she was needy, you know what I mean?'

  Anna said nothing; he looked at his watch.

  'I got to go back to work.'

  'If there is anything that you think of that might help my enquiry, this is my card and contact number.' She passed over her card. He took it and ran his thumb over the edge.

  'I'm sorry. She was kind of sad, but she could be fun sometimes.'

  Anna gave a prim smile. She disliked him intensely. 'Thank you for your help. Oh, there is just one thing — could I see her room?'

  'What?'

  'The room Louise Pennel stayed in while she was here, could I see it?'

  Joe hesitated, and then shrugged. 'Sure; it's being used by the cleaner. It's not a regular hotel room.' They headed up three flights of stairs; the carpet was threadbare and the air reeked of stale cooking fat.

  'It's from the Chinese restaurant next door,' Joe said as they passed a fire door and a bathroom before stopping at the end of the corridor. He opened the door and stepped back.

  It was hardly large enough to be described as a room; a single bed and a dresser fought for space in the dank air. A torn net curtain covered the tiny window. The lino on the floor was filthy, as was what had once been a fluffy yellow bath mat. A picture of Christ on the Cross hung crooked, the frame chipped.

  Anna drove back to the station, desperate for a shower, but there was no way she would have the time to take one until she went home that evening. She distracted herself with the thought that they now had the date when Louise went for her job interview, which would narrow down when the advert could have been placed. That Louise was selling herself to buy new clothes for the interview showed that she was desperate to make a good impression; Joe had described what sounded like Louise's missing maroon coat. Louise had moved into Sharon's flat after the job interview, but had continued working for the dental practice. She sighed, hating that all this might turn out to be a wild goose chase.

  Anna joined Barolli at his desk. 'We have any luck with the advert Louise may have answered?'

  'We're checking out a postal box; the number listed for applicants to call, we've drawn a blank on. It was a pay-as-you-go mobile number, so we can't trace any contract details.'

  'Where was the postal box?'

  Barolli passed over his report. The postal box and the mobile phone number had both been paid for with postal orders, purchased at different post offices: one in Slough and the other in Charing Cross. 'If it is our man, he covered his tracks. BT are checking out the line, but he could have used it for incoming calls only. Thousands of those phones are sold; using a very busy post office means there's little hope that anyone would remember who bought a cash order over eight months ago.'

  Anna scanned through Barolli's report and then passed it back. 'One step forwards, two steps back. To be honest, I was beginning to wonder if it was a red herring, but we know Louise went for a job interview sometime in June.'

  Anna told Barolli what she had learned that morning.

  'Terrific; what do we do? Hang out at Paddington station and question every possible punter using the station!'

  Anna pursed her lips; she got the feeling that Barolli felt he had wasted hours of his time. 'No, but if BT can trace calls made to that mobile number, we might find someone else who answered the advert.'

  Barolli grinned and pointed. 'Good thinking. I'll crack on.'

  Anna typed up her report of the morning's interviews. She then returned to Barolli's desk. 'We found no chequebook or bank account in Louise Pennel's name, right?'

  'Yep. But she might have had one under a different name; we've found nothing to indicate that she had an account or credit card.'

  'Do we know how her salary was paid?'

  Barolli pulled at his pug nose and then checked his file. 'They paid her in cash. She was on thirteen thousand a year! By the time tax, National Insurance, etcetera had been deducted, she wa
s taking home hardly enough to live on.'

  Anna frowned and leaned closer. 'If she paid tax on a cash wage! What was the rent at Sharon's?'

  Barolli shrugged. 'I don't know. No one asked me to check.'

  'Don't worry, I'll find out. Thanks.'

  Anna returned to her desk and rang Sharon; she left a message. Next, she called Mrs Hughes at Florence Pennel's house, trying to ascertain the exact dates of Louise's movements before she moved in at Sharon's.

  Mrs Hughes was evasive to begin with, saying that she had done nothing wrong.

  'Mrs Hughes, I am sure there will be no repercussions for you, but I need to know exactly what you gave to Louise.'

  'Well, they were just some things that her grandmother had given me. I never needed them, and I felt sorry for the poor girl; she looked dreadful.'

  'That was very kind of you. Could you tell me what the items were?'

  As well as the clutch bag with the suede flower motif, there was a nightdress, a dressing gown and some slippers.

  'As I said, they were just things that Mrs Pennel had given to me. They were not worth anything, and I didn't want them.'

  'Did you give her any make-up?'

  'No.'

  'Did you give her any money at all?'

  'No, I didn't!'

  'Thank you very much.'

  Anna put the phone down. She'd hoped for more items that might have been traceable. The date of Louise's visit to her grandmother coincided with her returning to the B&B with the suitcase. Anna tried Sharon again but there was still no answer so, impatient to find out what rent was being charged, she called the landlady direct.

  Mrs Jenkins was very guarded, saying that she paid income tax on her rentals. Anna gave her the same reassuring treatment as Mrs Hughes and eventually discovered that the rental for the top-floor flat in Balcombe Street was one hundred and fifty pounds a week, with a deposit of a thousand pounds.

  Astonished, Anna returned to Barolli's desk. He was hanging on the line for information from BT. He looked to Anna and gestured that it was all right for her to talk.

  'Louise Pennel was paying half of a hundred and fifty quid a week rent, so that's seventy-five pounds a week on her wages. It would have been impossible to even buy a cup of coffee.' Barolli nodded. 'So where did she get the cash?'