She went and stood in front of him. ‘He kicked you out of his flat, Marcus, and put it on the market. Some friend, and now we know he died of AIDS.’
‘Don’t pretend like you didn’t know, he never hid it, and you trying to insinuate that he might have screwed Amy sickened me.’
That infuriated her still further. ‘Sickened you? He sickened me! The big rich friend with all his model girlfriends, yachts and sports cars. It was all an act, he was a queer, a homosexual who always hated me.’
‘He didn’t hate you, Lena, it was all in your mind. You were just jealous of our friendship.’
‘Really? And just how far did that friendship go?’
The slap almost knocked her off her feet; she toppled sideways and then regained her balance to punch him in his chest. He gripped her by her wrists, pushing her away from him, so angry that he would have slapped her again if she hadn’t ducked to kick him.
‘Well maybe you should have yourself tested,’ she hissed.
He just shook his head; this was the side of Lena that he’d always hated.
‘You should hope Simon has left me financially well off, considering the shambolic state of your business affairs.’
He knew from the expression on her face and her clenched fists that she was gearing up for an almighty row, but he no longer had the appetite for a fight. Instead he walked calmly out of the bedroom.
‘I am sorry but I refuse to be further subjected to any more media interviews,’ Marcus said as he joined DI Reid in the sitting room. ‘Right now, I am leaving to go to Henley to discuss my friend’s funeral.’
‘Well that is your prerogative, Mr Fulford; it was just a suggestion.’
‘We have gone along with all the police advice and requests so far, Detective, and the result, as you can see outside, is a media circus, and I refuse to have any further part in it.’
Marcus, wearing dark glasses, drove his Mini to the gates and the uniform officer let him out, whereupon the press photographers clamoured to get pictures of him as he drove off.
Reid watched all this through the hallway window as Deirdre from Victim Support, who had been sitting waiting in the TV room, came to stand beside him. She was a sturdy pleasant-faced woman in her mid- to late-thirties and had a very professional demeanour.
‘How are things here?’ he asked her.
‘Very tense. I am having more to do with her than the husband, he just wanders around smoking and drinking, but she is trying her best to remain calm and positive. Any idea how long you’ll need me to be here?’ she asked.
‘Well it’s entirely up to you. I can’t force you to stay, but their daughter is still missing, they’re being harassed by the media, and our investigation is stalling.’
‘Yes, I appreciate that, but I don’t usually move in to a family home and I have my own two daughters to look after. I also have other victims of crime that I need to visit,’ she informed him in a serious but pleasant manner.
‘Can somebody else look after them for you?’
‘Not really, but I can liaise with them by phone for a day or two, I suppose. Being the parent of a missing child has many parallels with the experiences of families bereaved by homicide. The emotional trauma, stress and the unknown is like living in limbo for the parents.’
‘How long have you been with Victim Support?’ he wondered, impressed by what she had to say.
‘Seven years now.’
‘It must be very hard for you as all you ever deal with is grief and misery. What made you want to do this line of work?’
Deirdre looked at him levelly. ‘I volunteered after they helped me overcome being the victim of a violent attack. I got followed off a bus one night by a stranger who dragged me down an alleyway and violently assaulted me. I woke up in hospital the next morning, and no one could have prepared me for the impact it would initially have on my life.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, it was rude of me,’ Reid apologized, suspecting that Deirdre had probably been raped as well as beaten.
She gave him a reassuring smile. ‘Not at all, talking about it is still a form of release. When it happened I not only had physical injuries but also emotional ones and they were the hardest to deal with,’ she said frankly. ‘I went through the full range of revulsion, fear, and anger, not to mention a sense of helplessness. I was also terrified about reporting what had happened the police.’
‘But you did report it?’ Reid said, concerned that her attacker might still be roaming the streets unpunished.
‘Yes, and the young lady detective who dealt with me was excellent and got Victim Support to visit me. It was a great sense of relief to be able to talk about my feelings with someone that was not a police officer, a family member or a friend. Jane from Victim Support was someone who would just listen to me and reassure me that what I was feeling was normal.’
Reid nodded understandingly and with respect for her. ‘And that experience encouraged you to join them?’
‘Yes, I wanted to give something back and now I’m the person that listens and allows people to talk through their feelings and emotions.’
‘I have to say, Deirdre, that is a very moving and powerful story. I chose to change my career because I was bored, but your inner strength and what you have achieved is remarkable. I take my hat off to you.’
‘Thank you, DI Reid, that’s very kind of you.’
Reid checked his watch. ‘Sorry, I’ll have to get going. You’ve been really helpful and I do appreciate what you’ve done.’ As he started to walk away he stopped, turned and spoke softly.
‘Did they get, well I mean, did they arrest . . . ?’
‘Yes they did. It was three years later on DNA, but working for Victim Support and my colleagues helped me through having to relive the ordeal in court.’
‘He pleaded not guilty?’ Reid asked with amazement.
‘Yes, tried to say I was a prostitute and went down the alley willingly and slipped, causing my injuries.’
Walking to his car, Reid couldn’t get over how open Deirdre had been with him, and found himself deeply moved by her story. As he drove out, ignoring the journalists shouting their inevitable requests for information, he reflected that in some ways his fears and concerns about his handling of the investigation paled into insignificance compared to what had happened to her.
Deirdre went upstairs and tapped on Lena’s office door, but got a sharp reply of ‘Leave me alone please.’ She continued along the landing towards the bedrooms. The guest suite was a mess of Marcus’s discarded clothes, his dirty sneakers left beside the bed and tissue paper from a shoe box strewn on the floor; no doubt the vigilant Agnes had not as yet done her speed-clean in there.
Deirdre moved on down the carpeted landing to the closed door at the end, feeling a little guilty about sneaking around as she eased it open. Amy’s bedroom was not as large as either the guest suite or her mother’s room, but it was nevertheless a fair size with a small double bed. The bedspread covering the duvet was in a pretty white cotton with small daisies and matching frilled pillows. The wooden slatted blinds were partially closed but the room remained very light and airy, with high ceilings and carved cornices, and Deirdre thought how her daughters would love to have a room like it. The row of fitted wardrobes ran the entire length of the room, and gently pushing one sliding door open, she was astonished at the array of beautiful designer clothes. They appeared to be colour coordinated, and beneath them were racks of pristine shoes and boots, all with shoes horns and boot presses. There was also an open-shelved unit with cashmere sweaters in various colours.
Deirdre eased the wardrobe doors closed, and then turned to look at the dressing table. A blue pottery jar, a hand mirror and a bottle of perfume were placed neatly on its surface.
She noticed by the further bedside cabinet a small well-filled bookcase. It contained textbooks and exercise books, rows of sharpened pencils and pens. She bent down to look along the spines. They were all leather-bound c
lassics – Shakespeare, Dickens, Ibsen, Strindberg and poetry volumes by Byron and Shelley. Nothing gave any real indication that this was the room of a fifteen-year-old girl. She sat on the bed and took four school exercise books out to look through them. She was struck by the neat handwriting, and further fascinated by the very advanced level of the content across all subjects. One book contained essays on various historical leaders and notes describing their political context. There were also some long essays about the slave traders, and these had excellent drawings, and down the margins were small red ticks and notes for further research.
She replaced the books, and stood looking around the room; to her mind there was not a single sign that Amy Fulford was suffering from any form of mental illness. Bending down, she peered inside one of the bedside cabinets and found yet more neatly arranged items from Aspirin to sweeteners, and two diet books, a stack of vitamin tablets, boxes of tissues and various moisturizers. She moved to the opposite bedside cabinet and in the small drawer she found a Bible and a volume of Sylvia Plath poems. She was careful to straighten the bedcover and ensure she left the room as she had found it. She looked around once more and noticed the room was devoid of any posters, pristine and tidy. Lastly she entered the en-suite bathroom and found the glass-fronted cabinet contained an array of very expensive shampoos and conditioners. There were banks of white towels and face cloths, and hanging on the back of the door was a white towelling dressing gown. She even felt inside the pockets to see if there was anything tucked inside, but they were empty.
As Deirdre was about to leave the room she decided to take a few of Amy’s school exercise books to examine more closely. She stepped onto the landing and saw Agnes leaving the guest bedroom with a white bin bag.
‘Oh, I don’t think you should have been in Amy’s room!’ the housekeeper said tersely.
‘I just wanted to see it for myself, Agnes, that’s all.’
Agnes moved closer, glancing round to make sure she was not overheard.
‘I was just outside the sitting room when the detective was here and I overheard him saying that Mr Fulford’s friend died of AIDS; next minute he rushed out of the room and went upstairs, and she followed him. I was about to ask if they wanted a cup of coffee and I was outside the room when I heard them having a right argument, and what I gathered, right or wrong I’m not sure, was she accused him of being one.’
‘One what?’ Deirdre said, stepping slightly back as Agnes was so close.
‘A homosexual – I wouldn’t be surprised because she treats him like a child, buying all these clothes for him. I’ve seen the prices left in the boutique bags – money no object.’
Deirdre found Agnes objectionable and the thought of her creeping around eavesdropping on private conversations disgusted her. Nevertheless she had been snooping herself, even if to her mind she had good reason as she was there to help the Fulfords. She felt a little guilty even so.
‘I wouldn’t repeat that to anyone, Agnes, and if you’ll excuse me I’ll be in the TV room.’
Yet again Agnes followed close on her heels, carrying the rubbish bag and at the same time using the ever-present duster to give a quick polish to the banisters.
Deirdre closed the door to the TV room and sat perched between the plumped-up cushions to leaf through Amy’s schoolbooks, growing even more impressed by her intellect and her neat meticulous handwriting. She selected the most recent, noting the date would be a week or so before she disappeared. It was a complicated and very detailed essay on Mary Shelley’s life and works and how Shelley’s own experiences and fears were reflected in her novel Frankenstein. The account of her friendship with Byron was threaded through with descriptions of their villa and the tragic death of Shelley. She had even drawn the removal of his heart. In the margin she had written in neat print her desire to go to Italy and visit these places. Also written in red ink were the school term dates and the suggestion of making a research trip. There were details of flights and costs plus possible hotel expenses. Underlined was the name Miss Polka and the hope was expressed that she would accompany her. She had gone so far as to note her bank balance, and the fact that she had more than enough funds to pay for both of them. In fact if the amount was true she had more in her bank account than Deirdre had ever had saved in her entire life.
Deirdre did not know of Miss Polka or her relationship with Amy, but what she did find of interest was that there appeared no sign that this was written by a girl purportedly suffering from DID. Furthermore, as the entries had been made so close to the time of Amy’s disappearance, could the police have missed a vital possibility that, far from anything untoward happening to her, she had simply arranged to fly to Italy? Deirdre physically jumped when the door opened and Agnes announced she was leaving for the evening. She was already wearing her coat and carrying a shopping bag.
‘Yes of course.’
‘I’ve left out a selection of salads and cold cuts and, if you want a jacket potato, I’d use the Aga as it always crisps up the skins.’
‘Thank you, I’ll maybe just have the salad.’
‘Well she likes jacket potatoes. I went up and knocked but she won’t come out, told me in her usual rude manner to go away, so that is exactly what I am doing,’ Agnes sniffed. ‘But you know she’s been off her food and hardly eaten anything and I’ve not heard if he’s coming back or not.’
‘I’ll talk to her. Good night, Agnes.’
Agnes hesitated, and then closed the door. Judging by the bulging shopping bag, she probably had her own dinner sorted. Deirdre waited for a while before she went into the gleaming immaculate kitchen, noticing a note about the salads had been stuck to the fridge. Lined up inside were plastic containers of ham and chicken. In a dish beside the Aga were two large potatoes.
Deirdre checked the time and saw it was exactly five thirty; Agnes would no doubt return in the morning at her usual prompt nine o’clock. Sighing, she realized she was not hungry and had no need to interrupt Lena until suppertime, but first she needed to have an urgent conversation with DI Reid.
Chapter 33
Agnes stood alone at the bus stop waiting to get her bus to New Malden. She had relocked the gates after leaving, observing as she did so that only one vehicle remained out of the crowd of journalists and photographers who’d been attempting to get an interview. She did not even notice that the woman who approached her had actually got out of the parked car.
‘Mrs Moors?’ asked the pleasant-faced woman in a camel-hair coat. Agnes had nodded and then looked to see if her bus was coming.
‘I have spoken to you on the telephone a couple of times and I was just wondering if you would agree to be interviewed for an exclusive as I know you are the Fulfords’ housekeeper.’
Agnes was taken aback but took the proffered card and inspected it.
‘We would be willing to pay you a considerable amount, Mrs Moors, and we can conduct the interview at a hotel or wherever would be most suitable for you, but you must have known Amy Fulford well and all we would need is some background on what you thought of her as you’ll be very aware there has been considerable press surrounding her disappearance.’
Agnes hesitated and opened her handbag to place the card inside. There was still no sign of her bus, and at first she declined the offer, saying that she really was unable to divulge any personal details as she had signed a confidentiality contract, and would hate to get into any legal situation.
‘There would be nothing to worry about, Mrs Moors. You just have to look at it as if you are simply helping enquiries, not invading anyone’s privacy, and as I said we are very willing to pay you for your time.’
‘How much are we talking about?’ Agnes asked.
‘Why don’t we discuss it together? There’s a nice hotel close by, so we could go and sit down and talk, or if you would prefer we can go to your home.’
‘Well I don’t have much time,’ Agnes said, but then agreed to go with the journalist to the very plush Petersham Hotel.<
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Gripping his phone tightly, Reid listened attentively to Deirdre as she described what she’d just read in Amy’s exercise books. He was completely taken aback by the thought that their missing girl could have simply taken off to Italy. However, he knew that her passport had been recovered, and even so they had also made extensive enquiries into the possibility of Amy leaving England and had no result. He also paid close attention to Deirdre when she went on to say that having read through the schoolbooks she had found no sign that Amy was suffering from any kind of debilitating mental disorder.
‘We have been acting on a very experienced professional’s word, Deirdre, and for you to come up with an alternative scenario is unacceptable,’ he insisted. ‘Whether or not you have two teenage daughters and feel you know more than either myself or the murder team from reading Amy’s essays—’
‘I am not as you suggest coming up with any scenario based on my girls,’ she replied angrily. ‘What I am repeating to you is that judging from what I have read and from her most recent work she had planned to go to Italy and with someone called Miss Polka.’
Reid’s grip on the phone grew tighter than ever. ‘There’s been a very big time-consuming investigation, Deirdre, and you are not obviously privy to all the facts, but I have also read many of those exercise books and there was a very thorough search of Amy’s bedroom for any evidence. However, I will call in tonight and read the essays for myself.’
Deirdre bristled and finished the conversation by informing him that Marcus Fulford had not returned from Henley, and she had not had much time with Mrs Fulford, as she was working in her office at the house. She was reluctant to repeat her conversation with Agnes in which the housekeeper had suggested Marcus Fulford was homosexual, but she did, and was taken by surprise when Reid told her that Marcus was bisexual, but that there was no indication that it was connected to Amy Fulford’s disappearance.
Just as Reid replaced the phone DCI Jackson strode into the office to inform him that they had just received information that Harry Dunn, Mrs Fulford’s driver, had been rushed to hospital suffering from severe abdominal pains. Reid had to swallow hard as he felt sick to his stomach.
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