Red Dahlia

Chapter One DAY ONE It was the kind of crisp, bright January morning that made the residents of Richmond, Surrey, glad to be living out of London's congested West End. The Thames glistened in the early-morning sun. The shops and main street were quiet: it was just before six a.m. Danny Fowler pedaled past the Richmond Hotel, eager to reach the sloping road and freewheel down the hill. He had only three newspapers left to deliver. With his usual finesse, he zigzagged across the street and mounted the pavement, pausing as he folded aTimesand aDaily Mailbefore propping his bike against the wall and hurrying over to the houses that faced the river. Just aDaily Telegraphto go, and then his round was finished; he couldn't wait to get back home for his breakfast. As he returned to his bicycle, stomach rumbling, a white shape caught his eye. Unsure what it was exactly, he swung his leg back over the crossbar and scooted across the road to look down the sloping bank. It looked like a mannequin or a blow-up doll. Its arms were raised above its head, as if waving for attention, and its legs were spread-eagled. There was something strange about the way it was positioned that Danny couldn't make out from this distance, so he pedaled down the narrow lane that led to the river for a closer look. What Danny found would stay with him for the rest of his life. He ran screaming, leaving his bike where it had fallen. The woman's naked body had been severed in two at the waist. Her dark auburn hair spread out behind her; her skin so white, it looked completely bloodless. Her face was bloated and the corners of her mouth had been slashed, giving her a clown's grimacing smile. Detective Inspector Anna Travis arrived at the Richmond Hotel to join the murder team that had taken over the car park. She hurried over to Detective Chief Inspector Glen Morgan, who was standing by the police catering truck, Teapot One, with a cup of tea in his hand. "Get yourself a hot drink and then we'll be going over to the tent. And brace yourself: it's not a pretty sight." Anna ordered a coffee as the rest of the team huddled in a group around Morgan. "Paperboy found her this morning. Came in with his mother; he's given us a statement. I let him go, as he was very shook up; he's only fourteen." Morgan looked across at the second forensic white van drawing up, and then back to the faces of his team. "I've never seen anything like it," he said flatly. "Is she fresh?" someone asked. Morgan shook his head. "Hard to tell. I'd say maybe a couple of days, but don't quote me. The lab will give us a more specific time." Morgan was a good-looking man with cropped dark hair and a leathery complexion. A golf fanatic, he spent most weekends out on his local course. He squashed his empty cup and tossed it into a bin. "Okay, let's get over there, and be prepared." "High as a kite, is it?" asked a young detective. "There's no stench, but what you see will turn your stomach." They made their way down the same narrow lane that Danny had taken to get to the riverbank. There a white forensic tent was already erected, paper-suited scientists milling in and around it. There was a large box of paper suits outside, along with the usual masks, overshoes, and rubber gloves. Bill Smart, a forensic expert, came out of the tent and looked at Morgan, shaking his head. "It's bloody unbelievable." He removed his rubber gloves. "I won't be eating breakfast this morning, and that's a first. She wasn't killed on site. Someone brought her here and set up a sick tableau that's had us all stunned. At first glance I'd say we don't have much forensic evidence; maybe come up with more when we get the body over to the lab." As the murder team donned their paper suits, Bill Smart removed his, rolling it into a ball and dumping it into the waste bin provided. As he bent down to rLaPlante, Lynda is the author of 'Red Dahlia ', published 2007 under ISBN 9781416532194 and ISBN 1416532196.