Twisted

by Lynda La Plante

  Detective Lane had made copious notes and now asked if Amy had left any kind of overnight bag as she was supposed to be staying the night. Harriet jumped up and apologized.

  ‘Gosh, I never thought about that. Let me go and have a search of Serena’s bedroom.’

  They could hear her running up the stairs, and then shouting down to the kitchen to her by now rowdy boys, telling them to stay in there as she was still busy. Lane looked to Detective Wey, who had also been taking notes.

  ‘We need to ask Mrs Newman exactly what Amy was wearing on the Saturday and visit Serena’s school to go over everything with her,’ Wey said. Lane nodded and then glanced around the pleasant room and tapped his notebook.

  ‘This isn’t looking good, Takeaway; because nobody realized she was missing from Saturday through to the Monday, when the school reported she hadn’t shown up, it’s bloody nearly three full days and nights.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe ask about the relationship between her daughter and Amy, and we should also talk to the husband.’

  As if on cue the front door opened, and shrieks and yells came from the hallway as the boys realized their father was home. Bill Newman walked in, stopped and looked at the two officers. They rose to their feet and introduced themselves, soon realizing he appeared to not even be aware that Amy Fulford was missing. He held up his hand for them to wait a moment and went into the hall to chastise his sons, who were now running up and down yelling at the tops of their voices. They heard him loudly telling the boys to go into the kitchen and stay in there until he came in to see them; he then shouted instructions to someone called Nicky to put on a DVD and keep them quiet.

  Newman returned, closing the door, and offered the detectives a drink, which they refused. This didn’t stop him from helping himself to a glass of red wine from an opened bottle before he sat on the arm of the sofa. He was good-looking, and wore a thick woollen suit and a checked shirt with a dark red tie. The detectives took the opportunity to ask about his daughter’s relationship with Amy, but he was unable to give details as, he explained, he had only met her maybe once or twice. Serena, as far as he was aware, had a number of friends and as she always came home on weekends he shared the pickup and collection with his wife. He said she still had a number of friends from her old school in Fulham, and had been at the same boarding school as Amy for just over a year. He said they felt the weekly boarding was a good way to give them breathing space as the boys were a bit of a handful and it helped his wife Harriet have less to do. As if hearing her name, she returned empty-handed.

  ‘I’m sorry to take so long, but I did a really thorough check – wardrobes, under the beds, everywhere – and there is no case or anything that I don’t recognize as belonging to Serena.’

  Her husband got up and kissed her, placing his arm around her shoulders. ‘I feel so bad about all this,’ she said, ‘it’s just dreadful, and I really blame myself for not being more diligent – poor Lena, she must be frantic.’

  ‘Do you know Mrs Fulford well?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t, just from school projects and events when we’ve met each other – she seems a lovely person.’

  ‘What about her husband?’

  Harriet looked to her own husband and he shrugged. ‘I don’t know him; I think they’re separated or getting a divorce, but like my wife, I have only met Lena a few times, and usually she was with her husband. Marcus, I think he’s called. I met him about six months ago when he dropped Serena home as we had a sports event for the boys; he seemed very nice but he didn’t come in, just waved to us from his car.’ Harriet sat close to her husband, resting one hand on his knee as he sipped his wine.

  When she was asked if she recalled what Amy was wearing, she screwed up her face.

  ‘Oh gosh, let me think – she was wearing her school uniform when they arrived, then before lunch I think they both changed. Probably Serena would be able to remember, but I think it was jeans and a sort of leather and denim jacket maybe; I’m so sorry but I didn’t really take much notice. Oh, shoes, she was wearing the same shoes that Serena wanted to buy – they were flat blue suede ballet-type shoes with a sort of bow in dark leather.’

  Detective Wey finished writing and then glanced up. ‘So if she changed into clothes while she was here, then she would have brought some kind of overnight bag or suitcase?’

  ‘Yes, right, but as I have said it’s not upstairs, and I am trying to remember if she took it with her. I’m so sorry but my mind is just a blank; hang on, let me go and ask Nicky – she was here at lunch.’

  Harriet disappeared and Bill again offered the detectives a drink but they declined.

  ‘It’s a full-time job over the weekend with the boys, and Serena home, and me!’ He grinned – he was a very affable easy-going type, but by now neither detective was feeling relaxed; they had gained little and were concerned about losing precious time.

  Nicky Martinez, the Newmans’ nanny, was about twenty-two, French, petite, with two long blonde braids and food stains over her T-shirt. She spoke good English and as Bill went to sort out the row emanating from the kitchen she took up his perch on the arm of the sofa.

  ‘Amy was wearing blue suede ballet pumps from LK Bennett. I remember because we had talked about how much they cost at lunch.’

  Wey wrote in his notebook as DS Lane asked her to continue.

  ‘She was also wearing a maroon sweater, with frilly cuffs and a pair of black leggings. I can’t recall what jacket she wore, but she was very eager to see the movie as it starred Robert Pattinson.’

  ‘Did she seem worried or upset about anything?’ Wey asked.

  ‘No, not at all, there were no signs and she was okay that Serena would wait at the house and do her hair while she went to see her father and get her watch.’

  Lane and Wey looked at each other as this was the first mention of Amy going to get a watch and it tended to suggest that she was not meeting anyone or had any prior arrangement.

  ‘Can I ask how you knew Amy was going to her father’s about a watch?’ Lane asked.

  ‘I was a bit angry about Amy not contacting us as I had to go with Mr Newman as he was driving Serena back to school. On the way there I asked her why Amy had gone to her dad’s in the first place and she said something about getting a watch. I didn’t ask anything more as the boys started playing up in the back of the car.’

  Nicky was unable to help any further and said that she didn’t ask Amy about the watch and neither did Amy say any more about it.

  Seeing them out, Harriet offered further guilty apologies and added that she was unaware of Amy mentioning the watch.

  By this time the detectives were anxious to travel to the school and interview Serena. They headed into Fulham Road, trying to work out the route that Amy would have taken to get to her father’s flat in Green Street, Mayfair. The most likely would have been to catch a number 414 bus towards Marble Arch, get off in Park Lane and walk down to Green Street.

  Now armed with at least some description of what their missing girl was wearing, they reported back to the station, and said they would also ring DI Reid.

  Reid was at Marcus Fulford’s flat when his mobile rang. He glanced at it, excused himself to Marcus and went into the hallway to take the call. He listened without interrupting as DS Lane updated him about the clothing and the watch, and agreed they should visit the school and interview Serena that evening. Returning to the living room, Reid decided that before broaching this new information with Marcus he’d ask him more about his relationship with Amy.

  ‘I adore her. We get on exceptionally well and she is very loving towards me.’

  ‘Was she ever upset or jealous about any of your girlfriends?’

  ‘No, never, and I make sure my relationships never encroach on mine and Amy’s weekends together.’

  ‘What about Amy, does she have any relationships that you know of?’

  ‘No,’ Marcus replied, upset with Reid’s line of questioning.

 
‘Do you suspect that she may have a boyfriend?’

  ‘It’s possible, but I’m pretty sure she would have told me or her mother if there was one.’

  ‘Even if it was a sexual relationship?’ Reid persisted.

  Marcus fidgeted in his chair.

  ‘Although Amy can sometimes appear older than her fifteen years, she is a very innocent and naïve young girl and I don’t believe she is sexually aware. I am certain that she has no boyfriend or any fixation on a teacher or anyone I know of.’

  ‘But you can’t be sure?’

  ‘She’s my daughter, Inspector Reid, and I am certain I knew her better than you. The time we spend together is always very relaxed and she likes to cook for me some evenings and sometimes we go out to dine together. We also both like the cinema and theatre, and sometimes Amy even manages to drag me to the shops and boutiques. Her mother is very generous with her monthly allowance but Amy also likes to ask my opinion about the clothes she buys and wears.’

  ‘I know you may think I’m being intrusive, Mr Fulford, but the more I know and understand about Amy, the better our chances of finding her.’

  ‘You have to understand that this is totally out of character, she has never ever done anything like this before, and it just doesn’t make any sense to think she might have run off with someone,’ Marcus said and took some deep breaths before continuing.

  His eyes were brimming with tears as he touched Reid’s arm. ‘The phone call a minute ago – it’s bad, isn’t it? You think something has happened, don’t you?’

  Reid refused to be put on the spot. ‘It was positive news, Mr Fulford and, we now know what your daughter was wearing when she left the Newmans’. Their nanny also heard Amy say she was going to go and see you on Saturday afternoon and she mentioned something about getting her watch.’

  ‘Her watch?’

  ‘Yes, maybe she left it here sometime before.’

  ‘Well she hasn’t been here in over a week and if she left it I’d have thought she’d have rung me at least,’ Marcus insisted.

  ‘Nevertheless, I’d like to see Amy’s bedroom for myself please, Mr Fulford. There’s also the possibility she came back here and changed, so her overnight bag may be in her room as it was not at the Newmans’.’

  Reid was totally thrown by the untidy mess of a bedroom Marcus led him into. Turning to him, he asked if he had caused the state of it, perhaps looking for clues. Marcus shook his head, and explained that this was how it was usually. He excused the disarray and said that as Lena was so anally retentive, he allowed Amy to just do what she wanted, and unlike his wife he could not afford a housekeeper. Reid said nothing; the room was a total tip: dirty underwear, nightdresses, tights, panties, bras were strewn around, or left in small piles, the sheets looked grey and food-stained. The carpet was dirty with crumbs and half-eaten pieces of toast left on mildewed plates; even her pillow had makeup stains.

  ‘Christ, it is a mess,’ Marcus said, standing in the middle of it, looking around. He was embarrassed when he saw a used sanitary towel tossed in a waste bin with soiled tissues and torn-out pieces of magazines. The wardrobe doors were open, clothes on and off hangers, some crumpled underneath the dirty shoes. Reid was loath to touch anything because he wanted a forensic team to be brought in as it was not to his mind the normal mess of a well-brought-up teenager. Unlike her bedroom at her mother’s, this room was covered in posters of pop groups and the vampire movies, stacks of cheap magazines littered the floor and were strewn under the bed. Marcus gestured towards them and said he had flicked through them in case there was a letter or anything Amy might have left between the pages. The dressing table was a mess of spilt powder and creams and asking about a wristwatch was laughable as the surface was piled high with junk jewellery and beads all mixed up.

  ‘If she did come home on Saturday afternoon, it would be hard to tell. But is there somebody who might know – a porter maybe?’

  ‘There’s a sort of general dogsbody, but no one on duty. Listen, I did shift some stuff around looking for anything that might give us Amy’s contacts, anyone she could have gone to meet. I was very hung over and none of the drawers I looked through had an address book. She was always on her iPad, and I didn’t find anything like letters . . .’ His voice trailed off as he still continued to look around.

  Reid used a pen from his pocket to sift through items on the dressing table, and again mentioned that Amy had said she was coming to the flat as she wanted her wristwatch.

  ‘As I said before, I don’t know if her wristwatch was left here from her last visit,’ Marcus said, rubbing at his hair. ‘Yes, she usually wore one but I just can’t remember when I last saw it. Lena’ll know.’

  Reid decided it was time he got back to the station. He asked Marcus not to remove any items or search the bedroom again as he wanted one of his team to check through the clothes. Privately he made a note to get the underwear checked by forensics and if there were any traces of semen get a DNA profile raised.

  Driving back to Richmond, he was confused by the totally opposite states of the missing girl’s bedrooms. The Amy as described by her mother and her staff was such a meticulous and caring girl, but the bedroom she occupied at her father’s showed a very different side. It was filthy. Reid couldn’t help wondering if the dirty underwear indicated she wasn’t as naïve as everyone would have him believe.

  After Marcus had gone, Lena had continued reading the journal, trying to quell her rising fears. The book contained more than just recipes; the first half was filled with personal thoughts about their family and the people in Amy’s life. There was nothing that could help them discover her whereabouts but plenty of disturbing and shocking entries about Amy’s disdain for everyone. Lena had used small Post-it stickers to indicate what she felt were relevant pages, and she was also using a highlighter pen on some sections. She was still deeply stunned by some of her daughter’s copious notes, and confused by the revelations about not only herself but also everyone Amy came into contact with. She had just begun to read a section headed and underlined ‘Daddy’ when the telephone rang. It made her jump and she quickly answered it to avoid its jarring noise.

  ‘Hey, it’s me. DI Reid just finished here and I thought I’d check in. Any news?’ Marcus’s voice sounded weary.

  ‘No, I’m still reading the journal. There’s more to it than I thought but I haven’t found anything that might give us a clue to where she is or who she could be with. It’s quite upsetting though . . . I don’t think she loves us, Marcus. Some of the things in here are just cruel. It’s like I don’t even know her.’

  ‘Don’t think that. Of course she loves us; all teenagers write horrible things in their journals – it doesn’t mean anything.’

  ‘I pray you’re right,’ Lena said, the tears welling up again. She hung up the phone and opened the drawer in her bedside cabinet and plucked a tissue from the box inside. Beneath the box were a few birthday cards that she had kept, a Valentine’s card and a list Amy had written of what she wanted for Christmas. Puzzled, she took out the list, studying the handwriting, and then she opened the birthday card from Amy to her a couple of years ago: ‘To my darling beautiful Mother, from her daughter who would hope to be as beautiful when the same age.’ It was a cartoon card with a funny monkey inside that stuck out its tongue . . . but it was the handwriting that interested Lena, because it was spidery, looped and uneven. When she compared the handwriting from the cards and gift list against the overtly neat tightly written pages of the journal she saw it was totally different.

  Lena placed the list against one of the pages of the journal. It was impossible to believe that the same person had written both. She flicked through page after page of the journal until she came to the entry she had been about to continue reading . . . ‘Daddy’.

  Chapter 7

  Lena had not moved from her bedroom. The unfinished journal lay discarded beside her as she sank back in a state of utter despair and confusion. She could hardly belie
ve the pages and pages of what she had to accept were Amy’s hidden thoughts about how she really felt about virtually everyone she knew. First and foremost was the vicious depiction of herself and Marcus. This had shocked her to such an extent she had felt sick to her stomach. It appeared that, unbeknown to Marcus, Amy had not only made nasty character studies of his women friends, but also described his sexual exploits in disgusting pornographic detail, such detail that Lena began to think that she must have witnessed her father having sex. Could he have allowed this to occur? Another scenario that sickened her was the possibility he had encouraged her to watch him. This made her wonder if Marcus was abusing Amy sexually and if this was correct, she would have to face him with it and also, obviously, report it to DI Reid.

  She forced herself to think carefully about what she should do with this information. As angry as she felt towards Marcus, she really could not believe that he would abuse his own daughter. The references to herself had been cruel, at times vicious in their description of how she behaved, dressed and put her obsession with her business above everything else. Apparently she was a cold unloving determined woman who cared for no one but herself, and looked upon her daughter as a clinging appendage that had neither her looks nor personality. Amy had listed how she was forced to behave around this obsessive woman so as not to create any emotional conflict, and it had manifested itself in never showing any personality traits that would contradict her mother’s careful image of the perfect offspring.

  Lena moved to sit in front of her dressing-table mirror and moisturized her whole body, soothing and rubbing, and then used another facial moisturizer for her neck. She sat staring at her reflection before beginning to carefully apply her usual makeup. Eventually she chose from her massive walk-in wardrobe a cashmere sweater, grey flannel trousers, and grey boots, and from her underwear drawers took out panties and bra. She put on her underwear, pulled on the sweater, dabbed her favourite rose musk perfume to her inner wrists and neck, and yet again stood staring at her reflection. She was the same weight and size she had been at twenty, and she admired herself, even while carefully replacing every tube and bottle she had used in its exact same spot on her glass-topped dressing table. The rage came unexpectedly, consuming her as she swiped with right hand through everything in front of her, but she refused to cry. Gritting her teeth she kicked over the velvet-covered stool that matched the drapes and bedspread. She wanted to exhaust the anguish she felt, and she continued hurling objects around the bedroom until she was panting with the exertion. Only when her breathing had returned to normal did she return to her walk-in wardrobe and chose a grey cashmere fitted coat, dragging it on as she walked out.