Twisted

by Lynda La Plante

  Marcus needed another drink to calm his nerves. Talking about Simon had set an alarm bell ringing in his brain about the reason Lena had come round the previous night – her suggestion that he had abused their own daughter, telling him about the sexual contents of the journal. If the police were to be shown it they would come to the same conclusion as she had done. Shaking, he knew he had to see Lena as soon as possible because of what Reid had told him. He physically jumped when the officers tapped and entered the room with the plastic evidence bags of the assorted magazines and tapes. He signed an inventory without checking all the items as he felt sick to his stomach.

  Reid was coming out of the bedroom as the SOCOs said they were ready to go, and he asked them to list the dates of the magazines and to call or email him later with the details.

  Marcus looked shaken as Reid gestured for him to come to Amy’s bedroom. Once inside he pulled the poster to one side so Marcus could see the peephole. He moved closer, bent down and could see into his bedroom.

  ‘It’s evident from the Blu-Tack marks on the wall that your daughter’s poster was pulled back frequently and there is also a TV set with a video recorder in here.’

  ‘What are you implying?’ Marcus snapped angrily.

  ‘That the peephole was used on a regular basis by a person, or persons, who had access to this room. As your friend Mr Boatly has not been here for some considerable time and is abroad I—’

  Marcus walked out, his fists clenched as he headed into his own room. ‘It belonged to Simon and I took it out of my bedroom as I bought a small flat-screen TV.’

  Reid followed him. Marcus stood beside his unmade bed, the mattress left exposed, and stared towards the wall. Hardly detectable on the floral wallpaper was the peephole from his daughter’s bedroom.

  ‘I swear before God, I did not know that was there,’ he said in a voice so low it was hardly audible.

  Reid headed for the front door. ‘I’ll be in touch, Mr Fulford. Thank you for your time, you’ve been very courteous and I appreciate it. Will you be staying here tonight?’

  ‘No, I will go and comfort my wife this evening, but my mobile will be on if you have any news,’ a strained-looking Marcus replied.

  Reid hurried down the stairs; although there had been some developments as a result of the search they were still no closer to finding where Amy Fulford could be, but it was looking increasingly like the perfect teenager might not have been as naïve as everyone had suggested.

  Chapter 12

  Back at the station Reid realized he was starving. Having told everyone to gather in the briefing room in half an hour for an update, he decided to have a quick sandwich in the canteen. Already seated there having their dinner were DS James Lane and DC Timothy Wey; like their superior both had been busy all day conducting in-depth interviews, but sadly they had no direct information regarding the whereabouts of Amy.

  Having grabbed himself a toasted cheese sandwich and coffee Reid headed for an empty corner table as he wanted to go over his notes before the meeting, but no sooner had he sat down than a press officer came up to his table.

  ‘We’ve got good coverage in the Evening Standard and we’ll get the early issues of the morning papers as well, and they’ll all run with the appeal for information about Amy Fulford. I’ve also had a call from the Crime Night TV people and have a meeting set up for tomorrow. If you want a reconstruction I’ll need time to get it organized and arrange a lookalike.’

  Reid said he would make the decisions after the meeting, hoping they might have more details that would warrant a slot on the show. He took a bite of his sandwich, and asked between mouthfuls if any useful CCTV footage had been recovered. The press officer said that was his responsibility and if his officers found any CCTV of Amy to bring it to him, as the TV people would love it.

  Marcus knew he’d had far too much scotch to drive, but felt the two mugs of strong black coffee had sobered him up somewhat. By now he had a five o’clock shadow and was looking scruffy; he’d not even combed his hair and just pulled on an old fleece jacket to see Lena.

  By the time he arrived at the house Agnes was long gone. He rang the doorbell, and then, as he had a key, he waited only a few moments before he let himself in. The house was in darkness so he turned on the hall lights and called out for Lena but there was no reply. He swore impatiently, wondering where she was, when he heard the faint sound of laughter from the TV room. He listened at the door and then heard Amy’s voice; it shocked him and for a second he thought she was in the room, but then came the sound of Lena sobbing. He tapped on the door and eased it open. She was sitting curled up on the sofa, and had taken a blanket and wrapped it round herself. She gave him a wretched look and then gestured towards the TV.

  ‘I’ve been watching all our old home movies. I had to get the video machine out of the garage to play them.’

  Although he felt he should go and put his arms around her he hesitated and asked if she would like him to fix a drink. She pointed to an open bottle of wine, and suggested he get himself a glass.

  ‘I’ve had that detective round at my place all afternoon, along with forensics guys taking Amy’s stuff to be examined. I think they will also want to do the same thing in her bedroom here.’

  Lena shivered and hugged the blanket closer. ‘I gave my identical sweater to an officer, it’s apparently what she was wearing when she left the Newmans.’

  Marcus came and settled himself beside her as she spoke.

  ‘I’ve watched all the videos, some of them from when she was just six or seven years old, right up to the time just before she went to boarding school. I was just replaying one earlier of Amy ice-skating at Hampton Court Palace; you were like a lunatic falling over and she was laughing so much she had tears streaming down her cheeks. Anyway, the reason I played it again was because, I mean I might be wrong but . . .’

  ‘Wrong about what?’ he demanded tensely.

  Lena stood up and rewrapped the blanket around her like a cocoon.

  ‘It’s the way she looks – no, that’s not right, it’s something else, an expression in her eyes. In some of the videos I hadn’t even watched before I noticed she never smiles, or laughs, and there is a hooded look to her. I can’t explain it, but a couple of times when she looks directly into the camera she seems to be angry, and on two occasions she puts her hand up to hide her face, not wanting to be filmed.’

  ‘How old was she then?’

  ‘Thirteen, why?’

  ‘Well she’d have started puberty so was probably just being stroppy – you know, with her hormones . . .’

  ‘I don’t think it was just that, it was as if something else was disturbing her.’

  ‘Can you get to the point, Lena, because I need to talk to you about something serious?’

  ‘I am being serious, for heaven’s sake,’ she snapped, then stood up and started to pace around the room. ‘Looking at the videos, and seeing the change in her manner, it could be something happened to her, something that neither you nor I were even aware of – do you understand what I’m saying?’

  He reached out, took her hand and drew her in to sit beside him. ‘Please just keep quiet for a few minutes and let me tell you why I’m here.’

  ‘But it’s important – don’t you understand what I am trying to tell you?’

  ‘Yes I do, but what you’re thinking about her change in behaviour may be more recent.’

  He still held onto her hand, too tightly, and she tried to ease it from him but he wouldn’t let go. Finally she relaxed and waited as he gave a long sigh, then she listened intently as he explained what had taken place at his flat that afternoon and in particular the discovery of the old porn films and magazines that Amy might well have looked through.

  Chapter 13

  It was seven p.m. and Reid was sitting up on the platform, Chief Superintendent Douglas beside him, and the briefing room was filled with detectives and uniform officers, some seated and others standing lining the walls, a
ll chatting about the long hard day they’d had.

  Douglas spoke in a loud voice. ‘Right, ladies and gentlemen, let’s have a bit of silence now and get this meeting underway so we can all be brought up to speed on the Amy Fulford investigation.’

  The room went instantly silent as Douglas indicated for Reid to stand and address the officers.

  ‘Thank you, sir. Okay, first up, have any of the interviews with neighbours resulted in any useful statements or information we can work on?’

  One officer raised his hand and Reid nodded to him to speak up. ‘A neighbour across the road from Mrs Fulford said that there had been considerable activity around the garage and numerous boxes were seen being loaded into the Lexus by Harry Dunn, Mrs Fulford’s driver.’

  ‘When exactly was this?’ Douglas asked.

  ‘Earlier today, sir, just after Mrs Fulford returned home from the press conference. The neighbour said the double garage doors were open so he could see everything clearly. The housekeeper Agnes Moors was also present, and they had been packing up boxes and bin bags for some considerable time, before the garage was closed and the Lexus driven off by Dunn.’

  ‘It’s odd behaviour but well after Amy went missing,’ Reid remarked.

  Douglas sighed. ‘It may be something or nothing, DI Reid, but nevertheless needs to be checked.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Did the neighbour see Mrs Fulford in the garage?’ Reid asked the officer.

  ‘Only briefly. I did ask him if he knew Mrs Fulford, but he said he had very little to do with her and though polite she was not very friendly. He knew Marcus Fulford moved out two years ago and he had not seen or had any conversation with him since. However, when he was there he was always pleasant and had often chatted to the neighbour. He was unable to give details of regular visitors, or any vehicle regularly parked in the front of the house.’

  ‘What about Amy? Did the neighbour know her and when did he last see her?’ Douglas asked impatiently.

  ‘He knew who she was and would say hello if he saw her, but never engaged her in conversation. He last recalled seeing her about two weeks ago getting out of the Lexus in her school uniform.’

  Statements from all the neighbours surrounding Mrs Fulford’s property virtually said the same thing. Not one of them was friendly or associated with the family. Basically it was apparent that neither Lena nor Amy made any effort to be neighbourly.

  DI Reid listened and like Chief Superintendent Douglas was becoming impatient as nothing appeared to have any important connection to Amy’s disappearance. It was hard to believe how lacking in attention or interest Mrs Fulford’s neighbours could be.

  ‘Right, what about the team that visited Marcus Fulford’s neighbours? Who was in charge of that?’ Reid asked.

  A detective put up his hand. ‘The couple living next to Marcus Fulford knew who Amy was, but were unable to recall ever having a conversation with her. An elderly lady occupying one of the flats below had likewise seen but never spoken to Amy and rarely if ever left the apartment as she was very infirm. She suggested that perhaps the reason for not noticing the comings and goings was that her sitting room was at the back of the property and she always had her TV turned up as she was very deaf.’

  The detective’s remark caused some laughter in the room, but Douglas was not amused. ‘Get to the point, officer. Did any resident see Amy Fulford at or near her father’s flat on the Saturday – or Sunday for that matter?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘So the house-to-house in Mayfair takes us no further forward either,’ Douglas remarked.

  ‘Did any of them have anything of interest to say about Marcus Fulford?’ Reid asked, hoping that there would be something positive.

  ‘Only the man who occupied the flat above, divorced ex-Guards officer who said he knew Marcus reasonably well as he had been on very good terms with Simon Boatly, the owner of the flat. He described Boatly as from a wealthy aristocratic family and was eager to give some rather lurid details about Mr Boatly and the “lovely girlies” he often had coming and going . . .’

  ‘What exactly did he mean by “lovely girlies”?’ Reid asked.

  ‘He was sort of non-committal at first, but when I pressed him he suggested that Boatly may have paid for their company.’

  ‘You mean prostitutes,’ Douglas said in a blunt manner.

  ‘Yes, sir, but from the description maybe more like high-class call girls,’ the officer said.

  Douglas shook his head in bafflement. ‘They’re still prostitutes, Detective.’

  The detective then generated a few laughs, even from Douglas, when he mimicked the gentleman’s posh army accent: ‘Absolutely gorgeous totty, old chap. Dear Simon’s a bit of a party animal and I must say I wouldn’t have minded a bit of the action on manoeuvres myself, but I never even got a bloody invite!’

  ‘Did he say anything about Amy?’ asked Douglas, bringing the laughter to a stop.

  ‘He recalled meeting Amy on the stairs a few months ago when she was with her father. At first he wondered if Marcus had the same predilection as Boatly for young girls, but Marcus introduced her and he discovered she was his daughter.’

  Reid looked around and then they moved on to Detective Wey. He had been assigned to examine Marcus Fulford’s finances.

  ‘Marcus Fulford is bankrupt and running up quite extensive debts. He was paying Simon Boatly rent every month by direct debit, but he’s currently behind by six months. His previous business ventures appear to have been financed mostly by his wife and have been a litany of failures. He’s been surviving on benefits for the last eight months.’

  ‘Other than the location of the Mayfair premises there were no signs of luxurious living in the flat,’ Reid added.

  DC Wey continued. ‘I also spoke with Mr Jacob Lyons, a very expensive and renowned divorce lawyer, who is representing Marcus. He wasn’t very helpful, underlining client confidentiality as the reason for not disclosing many details about his fees and how Mr Fulford paid. He did say Marcus would be asking for alimony, plus a share in the sale of the Richmond property which is in both their names, so maybe the fees will come out of that.’

  ‘Usually it’s the wife who would attempt to gain a secure financial settlement, but nowadays equality reigns,’ Douglas said as if having some personal experience of such matters.

  Reid asked Wey what Lena’s divorce lawyer had to say and he described Mr Henshaw as a completely different type of man to Lyons.

  ‘He was a gentleman, and although mindful of client confidentiality, intimated that the divorce was not as amicable as had been implied to us by the Fulfords. Marcus Fulford wants a substantial settlement of half the value of the house and a big monthly alimony payment. As yet no settlement has been agreed, but if Marcus gets what he wants he’ll never have to work or claim benefits again.’

  ‘Were they both telling the truth about the time and place of the meeting?’ Reid asked.

  Wey nodded and said that both Henshaw and Lyons confirmed the fact, but Henshaw added the meeting ended acrimoniously shortly before lunch.

  ‘Okay, moving on, what do we know about Mrs Fulford’s bank and business accounts?’

  DS Lane spoke next. He had been through lengthy Customs House papers, bank statements, and business transactions as well as speaking to an accountant, who was very helpful ‘off the record’. His last comment seemed to please Douglas who smiled as he was an ‘old school’ type of police officer, who was happy to cut corners where necessary.

  ‘On paper she’s in a very strong financial position, however, the numerous different companies are at present in reality robbing Peter to pay Paul, but once the dust has settled on Kiddy Winks she stands to make huge profits.’

  ‘How much?’ Douglas asked.

  ‘Millions . . . which may explain why Marcus wants a big payoff, but if the new venture fails she could, within six months, be in a critical situation financially as her outgoings are high. To maintain supplies for her cottage industry ende
avours requires a number of staff and she owns two small vans and has drivers who make the deliveries and collections, not to mention sales assistants and a receptionist.’

  ‘Does that leave much in her business account?’ Reid asked.

  ‘Currently just over quarter of a million, but this fluctuates because of the salaries and rents due, and she has to pay in advance for orders. She pays herself a monthly salary of ten grand from the business into her own private account, which currently has a hundred and twenty thousand in it, and from this she pays the domestic staff’s monthly salaries and all the household bills.’

  ‘What about the house in Richmond?’ Wey asked.

  Lane shrugged his shoulders. ‘It appears Marcus has never paid a penny towards it, even though it’s in both their names. The accountant remarked that the Fulfords were not exactly War of the Roses but might possibly be in rehearsal for it.’

  There was some laughter round the room then Reid asked about Amy Fulford’s financial situation and DS Lane said that he had checked into it. ‘She’s in far better shape than her father, with ninety thousand in a trust account and five thousand in a current account.’

  There were a few gasps, whistles and remarks around the room that such a young girl should have so much money, but DS Lane explained that the trust fund had been left in a will by Mrs Fulford’s father and could not to be touched until she was twenty-one. Her current bank account was topped up monthly with five hundred pounds on direct debit by her mother. Most significantly, and alarmingly, there had been no movement in Amy’s current account since her disappearance, but she had made a couple of substantial payments to her father. One, six months ago, for two thousand, and another more recent for one thousand.

  Reid drummed his fingers on the tabletop. ‘Any details of wills made by Mr or Mrs Fulford in respect of who the beneficiaries would be for the house and business?’