Twisted

by Lynda La Plante

  Delving into one of the tool cabinets he took out a reel of thick packing tape and began binding his boxes shut. ‘I’ll give you a few quid to take these to my daughter’s, otherwise I’ll have to get a taxi,’ Agnes offered hopefully.

  Harry simply said she should pack up and he’d maybe help her out in the morning, but he was going home. He pressed the button to open the automatic garage doors. The Lexus was parked by the front door of the house so he walked along the back lane, and then drove it back to the garage to stack up his boxes. Agnes was still there on her knees inspecting some pillowcases and stuffing them into the cardboard box by her side. While he opened the boot of the Lexus and carried out his share, Agnes carried on rummaging through the remainder of the boxes, taking out some pans and dishes.

  ‘You’ll be needing a removal van,’ he said, packing up the Lexus.

  By the time he had stacked his items and closed the boot, Agnes was finishing off the packing using the tape; she was red-faced and her hair hung in sweaty rat-tails. He remembered the watch left in his jacket and collected it. Agnes said she would call a local taxi unless he would return and help her but he pretended not to hear.

  ‘See you tomorrow then,’ Harry said as he used the automatic key ring to close the garage door. He then drove off; it was not unusual for him to take the Lexus home and return with it the following day – often on occasions Mrs Fulford had called him back, wanting to be taken somewhere or other, but he hoped she wouldn’t bother him today as he was intending to unpack his goods and see what he could sell on.

  Lena was sitting in the TV room, and having plugged in the video player she was choosing tapes ready to begin watching the footage of Amy. Hunched on the stone-flagged floor, with the remote in her hand, she pressed play: nothing happened. With a sinking feeling she realized the remote needed new batteries. She was close to tears with frustration as she went into the kitchen to ransack drawers, knowing they always kept a selection. Frantically she tossed aside neat stacks of napkins and tea cloths until she found a box of AA batteries and returned to the TV room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

  Agnes had by now packed up virtually everything else, leaving only a few items that neither she nor Harry wanted. Returning to the house she saw the TV room door shut, so headed into the kitchen and stood surveying the mess. She began to methodically refold the napkins and tea cloths, restacking them into the drawer as she checked her watch – it was almost four o’clock, just another hour and she would be able to leave. The telephone rang on Mrs Fulford’s business line, but she answered it anyway and in a posh voice announced, ‘Mrs Fulford’s residence.’ It was the sales assistant from Kiddy Winks asking to speak to Mrs Fulford and so Agnes informed her she was unavailable but would pass on a message.

  ‘It’s Gail, and I really do need to speak to Mrs Fulford about arrangements for delivery – could you ask her to call me?’

  ‘Yes, Gail, I will do that.’

  Agnes replaced the phone, and wrote down the time and name for Mrs Fulford to return the call. She hesitated as to whether or not she should go into the TV room but decided against it. She stood in the hallway listening, but hearing nothing she returned to the kitchen and closed the door, then rang Natalie.

  ‘Hello dear, I’ve got some lovely things that you will be able to use. Mrs Fulford was going to take them to a charity shop but there’s some very nice bed linen and a double duvet.’

  She listened as her daughter asked if there was any news about Amy. She gave a sigh and said in a sorrowful voice that as far as she knew there was nothing.

  ‘Oh my goodness, that is just terrible,’ Natalie said, mimicking her mother’s tone.

  ‘Yes, just awful, and there’s a nice bathroom set and some pots and pans.’

  ‘I’ve got to go, Mum, another caller on the line.’

  Agnes replaced the phone. There always seemed to be another call; she was hardly ever able to have a lengthy conversation with her daughter. Still, she reckoned, she’d be with her at the weekend, and they’d have a nice time sorting through the goods. Only now did she really think about Amy, and counted the days in her mind. Missing for almost five days – she didn’t think it was a good sign, and for the first time she seriously wondered if something terrible had happened. She knew that if it was Natalie missing she would have been in a terrible state, not shutting herself up in the TV room like Mrs Fulford – she’d have been out searching the streets.

  Agnes had no conception that over forty officers were out on the streets attempting to find some clue where Amy Fulford might be. House-to-house enquiries were being conducted and the neighbours around the Fulfords’ property were all being contacted and questioned. Agnes did wonder if she would be questioned again, because when making up Mrs Fulford’s bed she had picked up the journal. She had flicked through it, not intending to read it, but catching her name on a page she couldn’t help herself. Learning exactly what the spoiled little bitch thought of her was appalling and she would have a few things to add to her statement. Fortunately she had not had the time to read more than a couple of pages because she had heard the police car drawing up. She had quickly placed the journal on the bedside table before hurrying down the stairs to open the front door.

  Now, knowing that Mrs Fulford was still in the TV room, she crept up the stairs hoping to read more, but looking around the bedroom, she was unable to find the journal. She reckoned there would be another time when she would be able to have a good search around – Agnes when left alone spent considerable time looking over private papers but was always very careful to replace them in the exact same order. Returning to the kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea and sat brooding about how Amy had described her; it would be another subject she and Natalie could discuss. It never even crossed Agnes’s mind that Mrs Fulford had read what her daughter thought of her; in her opinion she was an exemplary employee and kept the big house immaculate and she firmly believed that Mrs Fulford could not manage without her.

  Chapter 11

  Walking up Green Street, Reid stopped and looked at Marcus’s polished Mini and peered inside it. He recalled it had been filthy the last time he saw it, and found it strange under the circumstances that Fulford had found the time to have it valet-cleaned inside and out. Up ahead he saw two SOCOs about to enter the house and hurried to join them. He’d had to park a considerable distance away, but didn’t want the team to go in without him. They carried their forensic equipment in silver cases and paper suits under their arms.

  Marcus buzzed them into the house, whereupon the SOCOs asked to be shown Amy’s bedroom, while Reid sat waiting in the sitting room. When Marcus returned he poured himself a scotch and offered Reid one, but he declined. Marcus sank into the other old leather armchair.

  ‘I’ve had some news – the press releases will be out in the morning papers and hopefully the Evening Standard. We would like to run a Crime Night appeal as well; it sounds awful but because we are still treating your daughter as a medium-risk misper and possible runaway, high-risk cases may take precedence. Would you be prepared to take part in an interview, should they agree?’

  ‘Yes of course, but as my wife and I keep saying, we honestly do not believe that Amy would take off – it would be totally out of character. I am really becoming terrified that something appalling has happened.’

  Reid leaned forward. ‘We are obviously very much dependent on the public coming forward with information, but rest assured we are being very dedicated and thorough in our investigation.’

  Marcus nodded, sipping his scotch, and Reid asked casually why he had cleaned his car. For a moment Marcus looked confused, and then shrugged before explaining that his wife’s housekeeper had instructed her driver to wash and valet it – he had not asked for it to be done, but admitted that it really needed it. Reid made a mental note to speak to Harry Dunn.

  ‘You said you would give me the names and contact numbers for your girlfriends. I will need to question them, specifically about t
he afternoon and evening of the day your daughter went missing.’

  Marcus got up and crossed to the drinks cabinet, picked up a notebook and returned to his seat. He tore out two pages and handed them to Reid.

  ‘My current sort-of girlfriend is Justine Hyde, the others are more or less just friends that I occasionally see. Although I am in the process of divorcing Lena, I am not some kind of Jack-the-lad – I enjoy female company but there is no serious relationship ongoing, just casual.’

  Reid looked at the list of women and asked if he’d had sexual relationships with all of them. Marcus hesitated and Reid could sense the unease emanating from him as he confessed that he had. He explained that when his daughter came to stay he made sure that he was able to give her his undivided attention and rarely if ever introduced Amy to his girlfriends.

  ‘What work do you do, Mr Fulford?’

  Marcus helped himself to another scotch and stood leaning against the cabinet. Yet again he seemed uneasy, describing his various design projects, how he was self-employed and had not had a lot of success recently due to the credit crunch. He eventually admitted that he was presently unemployed and receiving benefits. He explained that the flat belonged to a long-time friend, a Simon Boatly, who was abroad and he was renting it for a low price. Again, Reid showed no reaction but thought that compared to the large property Marcus’s wife resided in, the Mayfair flat seemed run-down, albeit in a very expensive location.

  Marcus repeated what he had been doing on the Saturday Amy went missing, and that after the football he went with Justine to a film and then her place for the night. He agreed that even if Amy had returned to the flat, he would not have been aware of it, but he had asked his neighbours and none of them could recall seeing her. Reid flicked through his notebook and asked about the watch that Amy had told her friend Serena she wanted to collect. Marcus gave an open-handed gesture. ‘You asked me about that before. Anyway, Lena said she gave Amy a Cartier watch on her last birthday, and it was inscribed on the back with her name and date of birth.’

  ‘You’ve not found it here in the flat?’ Reid asked.

  ‘No – to be honest I haven’t even thought about it, but it’s very expensive and she is only fifteen. According to Lena it’s what she wanted and my wife has a habit of buying whatever Amy asks for.’

  Reid flicked back and forth between pages in his notebook. It irritated Marcus as every time Reid closed it, he would open it again as if he had thought of something else he wanted to ask.

  ‘I will be talking to Justine, Mr Fulford, and just so I’ve got this right, you spent Saturday night and part of Sunday with her and were not concerned that Amy didn’t contact you?’

  ‘Correct, but Amy had already told me she wouldn’t be coming as Serena had invited her to a sleepover. I didn’t get back here until late Sunday, and I had an appointment with Lena on the Monday morning. Neither of us were concerned about Amy not contacting us. I think Lena turned off her mobile for the meeting.’

  Reid nodded and continued his questions as he wrote in his notebook. ‘So this meeting on Monday that both you and your wife were present at, even then neither of you knew Amy was missing and had not turned up at school?’

  Marcus was now becoming really tetchy and snapped that he had said numerous times that this was the case.

  ‘What was the meeting about on the Monday morning? The school have confirmed they left messages but none were returned.’

  Marcus sighed and explained they were at a meeting with their divorce lawyers; he said a Charles Henshaw was Lena’s and he was represented by Jacob Lyons. Reid glanced up at Marcus, saying nothing but acutely aware that Lyons was a well-known and very expensive divorce lawyer who was often in the headlines. For a man who claimed to be on benefits it was a strange choice.

  ‘Did Amy have any concerns about the forthcoming divorce proceedings?’

  ‘No, she did not. As I have said repeatedly, we have been apart for about two years and Amy is fully aware we are divorcing. Lena and I had separated and the reason she was sent to boarding school was that it would give her a good strong routine, and as it was only weekly she would be able to spend every other weekend with her mother or myself. If Amy had been finding our weekends difficult to handle she would have told me. Anyway, I am beginning to get really frustrated about this repetition and surely you should be out there looking for my daughter rather than questioning me.’

  Reid gave an apologetic nod of his head; Marcus got himself another refill, seething with tension. His hand shook as he poured the scotch – whether he was trying to control his temper or his nerves were run ragged it was hard to tell. Reid closed his notebook, slipped it into his pocket and stood up.

  ‘I’m sorry if this appears tedious, Mr Fulford, but I am simply doing my job and trying to ascertain what emotional state your daughter might have been in. If she was at all traumatized by the present situation between yourself and your wife it could be a reason that she has run away.’

  Marcus banged down the glass. ‘She was perfectly happy, she was showing excellent results at school, she had many friends and behaved like any normal teenager!’

  Reid couldn’t help thinking it rather odd that when angered he spoke of his daughter in the past tense.

  It was at this point that one of the SOCOs tapped on the door and gestured for Reid to join him in the corridor. After a short private conversation Reid accompanied him to Amy’s bedroom and was met with the sight of loads of evidence bags, mostly filled with underwear and clothes, which were to be removed for forensic examination. However, that was not why he had been asked to join the officers: inside a plastic bag was a selection of hardcore pornographic magazines, which had been discovered under the bed, covered by an old pair of jeans. Numerous X-rated adult VHS videos had also been found in a large shoe box inside the wardrobe. Reid was shocked by the discovery of such explicit material in a fifteen-year-old’s bedroom. He inspected a few copies in distaste and was about to walk from the room when his attention was brought to something else. A poster stuck to the plasterboard wall had been pulled back by one of the officers, revealing a small nail-size hole. Reid looked through it and saw that it gave a direct view to the master bedroom and the king-size bed. The SOCO remarked that the poster was clearly a young girl’s and was maybe used to hide the peephole, and that the various markings of Blu-Tack could suggest that the right side of the poster had been pulled back and replaced. Reid realized that there was also a possibility that Amy had deliberately put the poster up to stop someone looking in from the master bedroom.

  Reid closed the door and returned to the living room, perching on the arm of the chair he had previously been sitting in. He wondered if Marcus, who was now silent and subdued, had drunk more scotch as his face was flushed.

  ‘I need you to agree to the SOCOs searching your bedroom.’

  Marcus sighed, shaking his head, and gave an open-handed gesture. ‘Search wherever you want.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Fulford. I am going to be straight with you because my men have discovered some disturbing items in Amy’s bedroom and I need you to be honest with me.’

  ‘What items?’

  Reid quietly told him about the selection of hardcore pornography they had found beneath Amy’s bed and in the wardrobe.

  ‘I don’t believe this.’

  ‘The tapes are explicit adult porn films. Do you have a VHS video machine?’

  Marcus got unsteadily to his feet and ruffled his hair. ‘No, and the tapes are not mine and certainly not my daughter’s. I do not have an old video player, I use DVDs, and you can bloody check the lot because I have never owned a porn film in my life.’

  He suddenly clapped his hands and then looked at Reid. ‘I know whose they could be and the tapes have probably been left here for years. As I said, this is not my flat, it’s Simon Boatly’s and he was into all that stuff. I got the DVD and stereo unit along with Sky Plus set up when I moved in.’

  ‘There’s something else.
We discovered what appears to be a peephole between Amy’s and your bedroom.’

  Marcus looked surprised. ‘A peephole?’

  ‘Yes. I looked through it and it gives a direct view to your bed and vice versa into Amy’s room.’

  Marcus took a deep breath before shaking his head and slumping down into the leather armchair.

  ‘Listen, I have no idea about any fucking peephole or how or why it got there; all I do know is I am damned sure that neither Amy nor I would use it, it’s preposterous. You sure it’s not just a crack? There’s enough of them around this place as it’s old and not been decorated for years.’

  ‘It looks as if it’s been made deliberately, and you can look at it yourself in a minute.’

  Marcus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, head bent low. His voice was quieter as he explained how he had moved into the flat and done nothing in the way of decorating in any of the rooms. When it was agreed that Amy could stay weekends she had simply moved into the spare bedroom, and even the bed linen belonged to Simon Boatly. Marcus continued describing Simon, who was in his early forties, single, a photographer who’d been left a considerable amount of money so had never really been forced into legitimate employment. Reid asked where Boatly was now and Marcus, almost inaudible, said he was travelling abroad and he didn’t know when he would be returning to the UK.

  By now the two SOCOs were at work in the master bedroom and had removed the bed sheets, pillowcases and quilt cover to check for DNA. As Reid walked in, one of the men joked that it was a bit of a hovel – almost as bad as the daughter’s bedroom – but the DI was not amused. Eager to leave, he glanced at his watch and asked that they show Mr Fulford the items they were removing and get him to sign an inventory. He then went into Amy’s bedroom and as he stood in the doorway staring around he noticed shoved into a corner a small TV set with a built-in video machine.