Twisted

by Lynda La Plante

  ‘Can you tell me more about when Amy brought the truffles round?’ Lane asked Mrs Newman.

  She thought about the question before answering. ‘It wasn’t on her last visit but a previous one a few weekends before. They were a thank-you for having her to stay. The small box was rather elegant, but the sweets themselves had marzipan in them, which no one in our family likes.’

  ‘What did you do with them?’ Lane asked.

  ‘I can’t recall exactly, but I think I threw the box out,’ Harriet said.

  ‘And none of you have had any tummy upsets or suddenly felt violently ill?’

  They all looked at each other and shook their heads before Bill Newman spoke.

  ‘Well Serena had a fever and was sick . . .’

  ‘Let’s not exaggerate, darling, it was more like the flu than anything else. She wasn’t eating while she felt ill anyway and I made sure she had plenty of water to keep hydrated.’

  DS Lane noticed a look of dread on Serena’s face. ‘Do you know anything about the truffles?’

  Serena said nothing at first, but when pressed by her mother to tell the truth she started to cry.

  ‘I took them to my room and hid them in my wardrobe and forgot about them, but the other day after Amy disappeared I found them and tried one. I took one bite but it had marzipan in it and I hate marzipan so I spat it out and threw the box in the bin.’

  Mrs Newman was beside herself, shouting at and chastising her daughter for failing to remember this before, and her husband had to calm her down.

  ‘The boys could have eaten one of them, for God’s sake.’

  ‘Yeah, all right, darling, but we’ll not know now if they were dangerous, and we should just thank God that Serena – in fact all of us – hate marzipan.’

  ‘But why did you try to eat it? You don’t like marzipan,’ Mrs Newman asked, almost shaking with agitation.

  All the fight had gone out of Serena. ‘I just wanted to see what a truffle tasted like, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Well if the truffle did contain any poison then your mother giving you plenty of water was a good thing, and more than likely flushed out any dangerous toxins. You were very fortunate young lady,’ DS Lane said firmly as Serena started to cry.

  Only an hour later, Marcus Fulford became the third poison-related death. Jackson and his murder team were in a state of agitation over who might be next and whether Amy Fulford was still alive and administering the poison. They were still waiting on the forensic report on the bottle of vintage brandy that Marcus had drunk from, but were reasonably certain that the contents were contaminated.

  Deirdre had just got Lena to rest in her bedroom after the panic attack when DI Reid called and gave her the news that Marcus Fulford had died of organ failure. He said he had spoken with Marjory Jordan and she was on her way over to help Deirdre break the news and comfort Lena.

  It wasn’t long after the call that Miss Jordan arrived at the house and told Deirdre that the journalists outside already knew about Marcus’s death as they had asked her about it.

  ‘How did he actually die?’ Miss Jordan asked.

  ‘I was told organ failure, but how the press have got hold of it is beyond me – they must have a contact at the hospital.’

  ‘How has she been?’

  ‘Under the circumstances extraordinarily calm,’ Deirdre said cautiously. ‘I suggested she visit her husband in hospital, while he was still alive, but she didn’t want to. She seemed to think she would be going to the studio for another Crime Night television interview, and got dressed and made up ready for it.’

  ‘Well probably for the best that she wasn’t subjected to it; the pressure she has been under must be taking a toll – she’s really very fragile.’

  Deirdre remarked that Lena had told her at length about her past, and that she had been surprised at her degrees and University background. She also mentioned that Lena had told her about her mother’s cancer, and that she seemed very enthralled by her father’s intellect.

  Miss Jordan gave a long sigh.

  ‘I have no intention of breaking patient confidentiality, but in reality I believe that her father married a great beauty with no brains and his daughter inherited both. I doubt she was enthralled by his intellect as he was very dominant and controlled her life for many years. The pressure proved to be too much, because while at Harvard she had a nervous breakdown, and they returned to London, so she never really put her academic prowess to any use.’

  ‘What caused the breakdown?’

  ‘Being apart from Marcus, with whom she was deeply in love, didn’t help and some old issues with her father raised their head again,’ Miss Jordan replied primly.

  ‘Funnily enough, I wondered why he would have been in America when she was studying. Were they very wealthy?’

  Miss Jordan hesitated; again she was very guarded about discussing her patient, and repeated that she was not really allowed to give too many details.

  ‘They were extremely well off, but Lena’s father still lived in his old family semi-detached, and to all intents and purposes was very Scrooge-like. Lena was really her mother’s sole carer as he refused to hire any nursing staff, but I think the mother came from a wealthy family – big property developers. When they died Lena inherited a considerable amount of money, but her father monitored any access to her inheritance and it was not until his death that she realized she was exceptionally wealthy.’

  Deirdre nodded; for someone refusing to divulge any patient details, Miss Jordan seemed unable to stop herself, as she went on to say that as far as she was aware Marcus Fulford was a very kind-natured man, who had never been her patient, but she was aware he had personal problems and his bisexuality troubled him.

  Miss Jordan gave a long sigh. ‘Lena has bipolar disorder – at times her depression was very debilitating and to be diagnosed really helped her adjust, and with medication she has been able to cope. She’s a very good mother, but suffers from a guilt complex that she was not able to be more understanding of Amy, who inherited her brilliance and looks. Lena told me that at times she had overpowering feelings of jealousy towards her daughter. The awful emotional impact of Amy disappearing, I felt, would be very difficult for her to deal with, but she cancelled numerous appointments, and now with Marcus’s death she will really need my help more than ever before.’

  Deirdre nodded in agreement and started to cry.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Marjory Jordan asked.

  ‘Nothing, I’m just tired, that’s all.’

  ‘Come on, tell me, Deirdre. I’m a good listener.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘The stresses and strains of the last few days have become rather overwhelming and I’ve let them get to me. In my job that’s not good and now I’m dreading telling Lena that her husband is dead. I really feel DI Reid should have come over personally to break the news.’ She blew her nose on a tissue.

  Miss Jordan sat her down and spoke quietly.

  ‘In many ways we are similar, Deirdre. You counsel the victims of serious crimes and families of murder victims, and so do I in cases where it causes psychological stress or damage. I am sure you understand patient confidentiality but I feel I can trust you . . . Lena was sexually abused by her father from an early age; it continued until she was sixteen years old and—’

  They were interrupted as Lena shouted for Deirdre from the top landing. Miss Jordan picked up her case, saying she would go upstairs and tell her that Marcus was dead. Deirdre was so relieved, the tears that had begun a few moments before now came like a flood and she wept, out of total exhaustion, both emotional and physical.

  Chapter 36

  By seven o’clock Jackson was ordering the team to get together to decide how to handle the situation. Marcus Fulford’s death had become a big issue for the press office and it was fortunate for the team that he had become ill while his solicitor was present, and not found dead in the cell.

  The team had cobbled together a timeline of when each victim co
uld have eaten or drunk contaminated food, and they had confirmation that the residue in the brandy bottle contained the remnants of a lethal concoction from a variety of mushrooms, which were still being analysed to identify the exact fungi. The examination had verified traces of the Ink Cap mushroom, which would slowly take effect if alcohol were consumed after ingestion.

  Jackson and Reid were finding it impossible to be certain when the poison had been administered, owing to the different times each victim had died and not knowing exactly when the food or drink was laced. However, the dates did match with the period of time Amy Fulford was missing, and now they had the added evidence of the box of marzipan truffles given to the Newmans. They also had a statement from Agnes that she had defrosted a spaghetti bolognese and was going to serve it to Mr and Mrs Fulford, but when they had not eaten it, she had passed it to Harry Dunn who took it home.

  They had yet again contacted all the surviving ‘enemies’ in the journal to warn them to be vigilant; however, Agnes Moors was not at home or answering her mobile. Her daughter Natalie said that she too was unable to contact her mother, and that Agnes was so upset she had gone to visit a friend, but did not say who or when she’d be back. Jackson wanted her tracked down, as the last thing he needed was another murder to deal with.

  Jackson was unsure whether Amy was still alive, on the run, or had been murdered by her father, but reckoned that if she was alive it might be worth trying to lure her out into the open. He decided to issue a press release worded to imply that Marcus Fulford had murdered his daughter, and that they were no longer looking for a suspect in her disappearance. Admittedly they had no body but it would not be the first murder inquiry to never recover its victim.

  Reid had the distinct impression Jackson was also trying to bring the case to a close, and that if Amy didn’t surface, or her body wasn’t found after a month or so, he would shut the investigation down. While he didn’t want to question Jackson’s judgement, Reid worried that if the information about the poison was to surface it could be alleged that the police had deliberately misled the public. He left the station feeling depressed, and in some way appalled that without any real confirmed evidence Marcus Fulford would be named as the man who had killed his own daughter.

  Once home he opened a bottle of scotch, mulling over the entire investigation, and tormented by the guilt of not contacting Deirdre. Finally he rang her mobile. She told him that Miss Jordan had informed Lena of Marcus’s death and she had been inconsolable, screaming, sobbing and suffering another panic attack. It had taken considerable time to calm her, but after a sedative they had left her alone in her bedroom to sleep. However, ten minutes later she appeared in the drawing room, started swearing and shouting and insisted on playing the piano.

  Deirdre was shocked at such bizarre behaviour, but Miss Jordan maintained if it was her way of releasing the pain they should let her get on with it. Eventually the sedative kicked in and Lena was helped to her bed by Miss Jordan.

  By this time Deirdre really felt her nerves could not take much more. She told Reid she was no longer willing to stay at the house and pointed out that as a Victim Support worker she was not obliged to do so in the first place, and had only offered to help him out of the kindness of her heart. Reid tried to persuade her to stay another night, but she refused and said she was leaving and that was that. Reid spoke with Marjory Jordan, who she said she could not stay overnight and that it was his responsibility to find someone to be with Lena.

  Reid phoned Barbara Burrows. She was at home and had just had a hot relaxing bath, and was about to have some dinner.

  ‘Hello, sir, how are you?’

  ‘Fine, thanks. I really need your help with Mrs Fulford, Barbara.’

  ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘She’s taken the death of her husband very badly and the Victim Support lady has had to leave and Marjory Jordan is busy so I . . .’

  ‘Need someone to sit with her?’

  ‘You’re a star, Barbara. I knew I could rely on you,’ he said, assuming her question was a positive answer.

  She wasn’t actually that keen on going over to Lena Fulford’s as she’d hoped to have a relaxing evening, but she did have a soft spot for Reid.

  ‘I’m happy to be of assistance, sir, and chuffed that you asked me to help out.’

  ‘It should only be for a couple of days as Jackson seems intent on bringing closure to the inquiry.’

  ‘But surely he can’t shut the case down – won’t they still at least search for Amy’s body?’

  ‘Yes, that will obviously be continued. There have been many murder investigations where the victim’s remains have not been discovered for months, even years.’

  ‘If it’s Jackson’s decision, he should speak to Mrs Fulford and not lumber it on you.’

  He sighed, knowing that would never happen, as he put down the phone. The discovery of the maroon sweater last worn by Amy was basically the lynch-pin of the investigation, proving that the girl must have returned to the flat her father was renting. No matter what angle he looked at it from, it was difficult to see who else would have placed it there if not Amy herself. He had the statement from Justine Hyde, Marcus’s girlfriend, that he had been with her from about five thirty after the football match. If Fulford had killed Amy before the football match, Reid wondered, would he have even bothered to go to the game and then straight to Justine’s flat? Reid knew that Boatly had a key to the Mayfair flat. But it had been confirmed that he was still abroad on the day Amy went missing. He wondered, had Amy’s watch simply fallen from her wrist one weekend when she was in the car rather than from her dead body?

  The unanswered questions went round and round in his head, until in frustration he began to jot down each one and underline it. Another scenario he mulled over was that if Marcus had found out that his daughter was making a hit list of people she wanted to poison, was that a possible reason for a violent argument that resulted in her death?

  Even in his exhaustion he forced himself to think back through all the interviews, the mass of statements taken, his trips back and forth to the house in Henley and his original meeting with Simon Boatly. He next moved on to the times he had been to Amy’s school, the meetings with Miss Polka and the headmistress, as well as his interview with the school matron. As far as he was able to ascertain, there was never any single mention of Amy showing signs of abuse by Marcus. Miss Polka had owned up to a sexual relationship with Amy, but Amy herself had never said anything about being abused by her own father – the only abuse uncovered so far was the unpleasant bullying on Amy’s Facebook page. Yet the findings at Marcus’s rented flat were construed by Jackson as confirmation that Amy was sexually abused, but there was no forensic evidence of his DNA on Amy’s underwear or bed sheets.

  It was almost four in the morning, and his head was throbbing from concentrating for so many hours, along with the half bottle of scotch he’d consumed, but he refused to call it quits. When did Amy prepare the poison? When did she pre-plan the infusion of it in the brandy, the truffles and the bolognese that was originally in the deep freeze? Did it take months of preparation, and where did she learn how to break down the mushroom spores to turn the poison into liquid for the brandy? Although her biology and history essays made references to poison mushrooms, the question was, when and where did she collect the mushrooms and how did she know the exact measurements? His list of queries got longer and longer, and now, unable to question Marcus Fulford, he began to accept the conclusion, rightly or wrongly, that Amy’s murder happened on the Saturday she disappeared, and the subsequent poisoning and death of her victims was a tragic outcome of a plan that had already been set in motion.

  There were only two journalists sitting in a car by the gates sipping coffee when DCI Jackson and Chief Superintendent Douglas drew up at Lena Fulford’s house the next morning. Barbara Burrows opened the front door and reported that Mrs Fulford had slept through the night without any incident, and was still dressing but shou
ld be down shortly.

  They had to wait fifteen minutes before Lena came into the drawing room. She looked pale and drawn but had dressed smartly, wore makeup and her hair was swept up into a pleat. They both expressed their sympathy for the loss of her husband and said that they also now felt he was responsible for Amy’s death.

  ‘Did he admit it?’ she asked, barely audible.

  ‘We did not have the opportunity to question him in depth as he fell ill during the interrogation, but he could give no explanation as to why your daughter’s sweater was found in the flat he rented from Mr Boatly,’ Jackson told her.

  She at last looked up, her incredibly blue eyes wide and unblinking. ‘Do you believe that he was sexually abusing Amy?’

  The normally blustering DCI was sweating as he said, as diplomatically as he could, that there was no direct or forensic evidence of the abuse, but the telltale signs, like the peephole they had uncovered in the flat, led them to believe that it was a strong possibility.

  There was an awful silence as she slowly looked up again, her eyes were brimming with tears.

  ‘I’m deeply sorry, Mrs Fulford, but my experienced and professional opinion is that Amy won’t be coming home,’ Douglas said, feeling it wouldn’t be right under the circumstances to use the term ‘murdered’.

  Jackson found it hard to meet her eyes. ‘We won’t give up looking for Amy, but you need to understand we may never find her body.’

  Douglas glared at Jackson, annoyed with his choice of phrase at such a delicate time. Lena straightened her back, sitting fully upright.

  ‘Thank you for kind words of sympathy, but I would like to be left alone, so I can come to terms with the fact my beloved daughter will never be coming home, as I had hoped and prayed. I feel totally and utterly numb, and at the same time I have a terrible sense of guilt that I ever trusted Marcus and loved him to such an extent I did not protect my daughter.’