Twisted

by Lynda La Plante

  ‘My name is DC Wey and I was just wondering if you recognized any of the underwear.’

  ‘One pair, yeah, but I never left a bleedin’ punter without me kecks unless he was paying for them. All I knows is some blokes offer me extra cash to keep me knickers. They’re usually sickos who like to wear or sniff them.’

  ‘Has this man ever bought any?’ Reid asked, showing her a photograph of Marcus.

  ‘Looks familiar . . . What’s his name?’

  ‘I’m not at liberty to say.’

  ‘Well that’s not much use, is it?’

  ‘What about you, Tanya?’ Lane asked.

  ‘Nyet.’

  Joyce laughed loudly. ‘She doesn’t understand or speak much English apart from hand-, blow- or full job and cash up front.’

  ‘Get them out of here,’ Reid snapped and the girls were led off. Wey watched them walking down the corridor and couldn’t help laughing at the way Joyce turned to give the finger.

  ‘Cheeky cows,’ Wey said with a grin.

  ‘Just go into the lab and wait for me there,’ said Reid with gritted teeth. He waited in the corridor as Justine Hyde was brought in from reception by Lane, after he had ordered a taxi for the belligerent tarts. Justine was carrying an overnight bag and a holdall bulging with all her hairdressing equipment. She apologized to Reid for not being available earlier, but she had been at a hairdressing event and had come straight from the station.

  ‘I am training with the salon, you see, and so I sort of double up doin’ reception work as well as being trained and it was a really good opportunity – it was all about colouring and highlights and—’

  Reid interrupted her eager to get on. ‘Lane, take Miss Hyde into the lab. I’ll be in the waiting room when you’re finished.’ As Reid moved off, he could hear Lane saying that he was sorry for the inconvenience and thanking Justine profusely for her time.

  Justine followed the sergeant into the lab and he helpfully took her overnight bag and put it down, along with her holdall of rollers and dryers.

  ‘It’s very simple: we have a selection of female underwear and we are trying to identify who it belongs to. Please point but don’t touch if you recognize anything belonging to you, and try to recall when it was last in your possession.’

  Justine said she couldn’t wear nylon, but was able to state that a pair of lace and cotton panties belonged to her, as it matched a brassiere she bought from Marks and Spencer. On being asked if she knew how the panties came to be at the flat, she said that sometimes she stayed the weekend at Marcus’s and when she did she took a change of clothing, so probably left them in his room without realizing. When asked how they could have got in Amy’s room, she suggested Amy might have washed and used them.

  Justine agreed to a mouth swab, which made her even more nervous, but Lane was very reassuring as the forensic scientist Andrew Bracken did his work. As he placed the swab into the test tube Bracken was noticeably less irritable, now almost enjoying himself.

  ‘Is that it?’ Justine asked, and Lane smiled, picking up her case and holdall.

  ‘Let me get you a taxi, Miss Hyde.’

  She hesitated, and asked if they had found Amy, as she didn’t quite understand why she had been brought in and wondered if it was something to do with her relationship with Marcus.

  Lane held open the lab door, indicating for her to go ahead. ‘Amy is still missing, I’m sorry to say.’

  She turned to look at the trestle table.

  ‘But I don’t understand. I mean, whose are all the other things – are they Amy’s? Is this to do with Marcus?’

  Lane escorted her out from the lab and Wey watched the doors swing closed. As he wandered along the table, Wey realized that it wasn’t funny any more – in fact it was a seedy display.

  ‘Any more women to do a viewing?’ Bracken asked Wey.

  ‘Yes. When I worked on vice a lot of men got a kick out of keeping women’s underwear and some even liked wearing them. What I mean is, could Marcus Fulford’s semen have got on the underwear because he wore them?’

  ‘Well we’re not a hundred per cent sure it’s his yet, but from the amount on some of the underwear he certainly spews it out – maybe he’s one of those guys that jerks off into them, or withdraws before ejaculation as there was so much on the bed sheets.’

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ Wey muttered, checking his watch and wondering who was coming in next.

  At that moment DS Lane entered and asked if they were ready for Gail Summers, who was in the waiting room. Suddenly they heard raised voices from the corridor and Wey opened the lab door to look, but there was no one there, though the voices were very loud and a woman was screaming. He headed towards the waiting room, and now the row was at full throttle, and when he looked through the glass panel he saw Lena Fulford attacking her husband and DC Burrows trying to step between them, but to no avail.

  ‘You bastard, you are disgusting, and now it’s bloody obvious to me just how you knew so much about my business! How could you? You know I depended on her!’

  Reid, returning from the toilet, wondered what on earth was going on. Wey explained that DS Lane had put Gail Summers in the waiting room and for some reason it had all kicked off.

  Reid knew why and regretted not thinking to make sure Gail and the Fulfords were kept apart. He stormed into the room and shouted ‘Enough!’ at the top of his voice. Gail Summers was sobbing, while Marcus was standing in front of Lena, trying to calm her down, as she was obviously spoiling for a fight. Her fists were clenched and she was trying to move her husband out of the way to get to Gail Summers. Reid shouted again and there was silence.

  ‘This is neither the time nor the place to have this kind of argument. Mr and Mrs Fulford, sit down and be quiet, and Miss Summers, please go with Detective Wey.’

  A tearful Gail Summers was led out, as Lena sat perched on the edge of her chair. She glared at her husband.

  ‘You really sicken me. How could you? Well let me tell you, she’s lost her job – I will have her out of my office in the morning.’

  Marcus just sat there not saying a word, but Lena was not about to let go and turned to Reid as if he needed an explanation.

  ‘His nasty toad of a divorce lawyer knew everything about my business, even down to projected future earnings. I couldn’t believe it and I even wondered if it could have been Amy, because it had to have been someone close to me. Now seeing that stupid bitch here it’s obvious who he got the information from and she’s here to see if she left her underwear at his flat. Can you for one second think how it makes me feel? He was screwing my personal assistant. I’ll make you pay for this, Marcus; believe me, you will pay for doing this to me.’

  Marcus glanced at Reid and then, looking away, spoke quietly but firmly. ‘Well, Detective Reid, you’ve now had a ringside seat to see for yourself how my wife behaves; not very pleasant, is it?’

  She was up and out of her seat fast, and she had Marcus by his hair and punched him. She would have got him down on the floor if Reid had not grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her off her husband.

  ‘Lena, stop it, STOP RIGHT NOW,’ Marcus said and she caved in, putting her head in her hands and weeping. Reid instructed DC Burrows to sit between them and told them both he would not tolerate any more outbursts and they should be thinking about Amy right now and not fighting. Finally Detective Wey ventured into the room to let them know that Andrew Bracken was getting impatient and needed to leave soon.

  Lena was by now somewhat calmer but there was an uneasy tone to her voice as she glared towards her husband and demanded, ‘What have you done? She was our daughter, for God’s sake. What have you done to her? WHERE IS AMY?’

  ‘I’m going to take you through to the lab now, Mrs Fulford,’ Reid said, taking hold of her hand to usher her out of the room.

  She was pale and shaking and her hand was icy cold as she gripped his tightly. He gave a nod to DC Burrows to remain with Marcus. As they entered the lab Reid asked her to
look to see what she recognized as her daughter’s, and she stared dumbfounded at the array of underwear.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered but moved closer, releasing his hand. She walked along the trestle table and stopped. ‘These are part of her school uniform – they are my daughter’s and under the tab you will see her initials as all the girls wear the same.’ She had stopped shaking as she viewed the numerous panties before she paused again.

  ‘These are mine – the silk and lace are part of a set – I hadn’t even noticed they were missing; did you find them in her bedroom at the house?’

  ‘No, these were taken from your husband’s flat.’

  ‘You mean Amy took them from my bedroom? I don’t understand – why would she have done that?’

  Reid made no reply but wondered if Amy had taken them to wear. He asked if Lena would have a mouth swab for her DNA to be tested for elimination purposes and she agreed.

  Again he took her hand to lead a by now very subdued Lena back to the waiting room. DC Burrows was standing outside the closed door, ready with Lena’s handbag and coat. Reid helped her into her coat and asked Burrows to see her to the car and accompany her home.

  Lena gave a weak smile to Reid and asked him to tell her husband not return to her house. Nodding in agreement, he remained standing in the corridor until Burrows had taken her safely out to the reception area. He then opened the door to the waiting room and gestured for Marcus Fulford to now accompany him. Slowly he got to his feet, seeming worn out as he walked down the corridor to the lab.

  The fact was that as Marcus had already given his DNA they would soon know if the semen stains on the underwear were his, but nevertheless it was important for Reid to gauge his reaction to the array of stained underwear.

  Marcus was embarrassed. ‘You may find it distasteful, or even repugnant, that I am sexually permissive, but I like sex and always have, and my private life is nothing whatsoever to do with you, my wife or my daughter,’ he insisted defensively. ‘I have been separated for two years, I am divorcing Lena and have been under immense strain, so although it may disgust you, it was gratifying for me to prove I was not, as she so often insinuated, a total loser. I admit to sometimes wearing the panties, even masturbating when wearing them, but they were always left in a drawer in my bedroom and none ever belonged to my daughter. I have no idea how they came to be in Amy’s bedroom – either Amy took them from my room or someone else put them there. I swear to God they were only like schoolboy trophies to me . . . a reminder that women found me attractive and I could screw who I liked.’

  Reid gave no indication of how much he disliked Marcus Fulford, nor that he thought the man’s excuse for his sexual fetishes repugnant and feeble. He had an ever-growing suspicion that Marcus had abused his daughter, and furthermore he had to consider the possibility, abhorrent as the thought was, that he might also have murdered her.

  Detective Wey and Reid drove back to the station. En route, Reid asked the constable to make it a priority to double-check Marcus Fulford’s alibi.

  Wey looked surprised. ‘It’s been pretty thoroughly checked out, gov – football match all afternoon and then spent the evening and night at his girlfriend Justine’s; she also verified it.’

  ‘Have we looked at CCTV outside and inside the ground, or asked him where he sat?’

  ‘He told me he thought he sat somewhere in the west stand. The ground holds nearly forty-two thousand spectators so it would be a bit like looking for a needle in a haystack even if we viewed all the CCTV, which could take weeks.’

  ‘I don’t care. Get it done asap.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Do you really think he’s involved?’

  Reid nodded, but by now was too tired to go into details, and arriving back at the station simply said he was going home. Wey watched DI Reid drive out and then went upstairs to write up his notes of the interview with Salver. Finally, having completed it, he was on the point of leaving for home himself when he noticed DC Burrows pull up in a taxi. He waited for her to pay the fare and realized when she came over to him that she seemed ill at ease, asking if Reid was still there. Wey explained he’d taken off and he was about to do the same. She hesitated and then asked Wey if he thought she should write up her concerns about Lena Fulford.

  ‘She was very upset on the way back from the lab; she thinks that all the stuff that was going down was because we – well DI Reid – believe Amy’s dead,’ she said. ‘I kept on telling her that although we have not found Amy she shouldn’t think like that. She became really distraught, asking me over and over why it was necessary to bring in her husband’s girlfriends if we hadn’t found a body. I did try to explain the reasons, but she suddenly went crazy, saying she was sure her husband had something to do with Amy’s disappearance. I asked why she thought that but she had a total meltdown and was in floods of tears. I offered to stay with her, but she refused.’

  ‘Well you can always call Reid and tell him, but you know we’ve all been working twenty-four seven on this and he needs a break to recharge his batteries as well.’

  In fact, Reid was doing just that, running a bath and frying up eggs and bacon, having already got into his dressing gown. But before he could enjoy either the bath or the food his mobile rang. He listened to Burrows and asked her to repeat what Lena had said. Reluctantly he turned off the bath taps, put his fry-up onto a plate with a mug of tea and called Lena Fulford. The phone rang four times then went to answer machine; he tried again as he began to eat and at his third attempt Agnes Moors answered with an unusual and abrupt tone.

  ‘Who is this?’

  ‘It’s DI Reid, just checking how Mrs Fulford is as DC Burrows said she was very distressed earlier.’

  ‘Yes, she certainly was, but she’s gone to her bedroom and I will be staying overnight to keep an eye on her. I’ll call her therapist and hopefully she will come and see her in the morning.’

  A starving Reid forked in his egg and bacon, and wanting to end the conversation, said he would call in the morning. It was a relief Agnes was there as the last thing he wanted was to get re-dressed, drive over to Lena Fulford’s house and have to comfort her.

  In her bedroom Lena’s mood was spiralling down and down. Agnes had brought in a glass of warm milk and having been told in no uncertain terms to get out had placed it on the bedside table and returned to the kitchen. Harry had stayed on late, telling Agnes that it was just in case Mrs Fulford wanted to be driven anywhere, but the reality was he was interested to know what was going on.

  ‘Do you think the detectives know something and they’re not telling Mr and Mrs Fulford?’

  Agnes lit a cigarette. ‘Like they found a body, but don’t know who it is yet?’

  ‘Dear God, don’t say that, but it’s getting to be nearly a week, so it’s no wonder Mrs Fulford’s in such a state.’

  Lena sat in front of her dressing-table mirror, wearing only her underwear, talking to herself as she robotically removed her makeup and brushed her hair. In front of her were numerous pairs of panties she had cut to shreds. She stared at her reflection as with a sharp pair of scissors she cut through the small satin bow that held the cups of her bra together. Removing it and cutting the strap, she threw the two pieces aside as she got to her feet. Next, she cut through the satin ribbon of her underwear on both sides of her hips, and now totally naked she began to wave the scissors side to side. Some years before she’d used small razor-sharp nail scissors to snip nasty cuts on the inside of her thighs and around her wrists; now she used the larger pair to gouge her forearm. Moaning at the intense pain, she watched in fascination as the blood began to trickle in tiny rivulets like red tentacles, taking with it all the tension in her body and mind. After repeating the cutting action on her other arm, she lay down on her bed, closed her eyes and felt much calmer as she drifted into sleep.

  Chapter 22

  Reid arrived at the station early Saturday morning to work on the Crime Night TV appeal. DS Lane told him that Marcus Fulford had agreed to
do the show and be interviewed, but he didn’t know if his wife would accompany him after the fracas over Gail Summers. Reid said he would call and ask her as he also needed some video footage of Amy from her. He was checking over his reports from the previous day when his office phone rang.

  ‘It’s the front counter officer here, sir. I’ve got a psychologist called Marjory Jordan wanting to speak to you about your investigation.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Reid, trying not to show his surprise. ‘Would you get someone to show her up to my office please?’

  Marjory Jordan was in her mid-forties, well dressed, very attractive and curvaceous, with shoulder-length highlighted blonde hair, and her makeup was rather thick, with dark red glossy lipstick. Reid registered that she was quite a forceful presence as she shook his hand, thanked him for seeing her and took a seat opposite his desk. Opening her wallet, she brought out her business card and handed it to him, before telling him that as the psychologist treating Lena Fulford she was bound by the rules of client confidentiality. Reid was confused by her statement and asked why she come to see him. Miss Jordan explained that a distressed Agnes Moors had asked her to go to Mrs Fulford’s house. Now, having seen and spoken with Lena, she had serious concerns and felt it was necessary to speak to him.

  ‘I am aware of the situation regarding her daughter, so under the circumstances I was there within half an hour of receiving Mrs Moors’ call.’

  ‘Is Mrs Fulford all right?’

  Miss Jordan sighed. ‘Again, I have to consider my client’s confidentiality, but it was very fortunate that I was able to see her so quickly.’

  Reid wanted her to get to the point. If she had bothered to come and see him he knew that there was something she wanted to tell him, irrespective of client confidentiality. He asked her again if Lena was all right.

  Miss Jordan took a deep breath and exhaled before continuing. ‘Well, it could have been a lot worse; Lena has self-harmed before, but last night she gouged deep wounds to both her arms. Obviously the distress over her daughter, and the forthcoming divorce proceeding, brought it on as she had been well for months. I discovered Lena hasn’t been taking her medication – without it her mood can swing from being very agitated one moment to severely depressed the next.’