Twisted

by Lynda La Plante

  He slowly ripped up the lists of questions and felt totally and utterly drained, and so tired his head ached. In the morning he would have to complete his report of the search at Lena Fulford’s house. He was ashamed because although he had made a decision that he would make himself available to watch the forthcoming sessions between Professor Cornwall and Lena, in the interim he could do nothing further. It was as if the investigation was as good as over.

  Chapter 41

  Lena Fulford had four further sessions, in which her alter personalities were gradually brought to the surface by Cornwall. Only with their protection had she been able to exist as a child and a teenager. For years she was forced to remain under the dominant controlling influence of her sexually abusive father. She had only been released from her torment when he had begun drinking to excess. This was the first time she had started to take control of herself, aided by her ‘army’ of personalities, and she admitted that she had often used some of her mother’s medication, which was left in the house, to doctor her father’s bottles of alcohol. By making him dependent on drink, she had found a small sense of freedom. At university she met Marcus and she had explained in detail how kind and thoughtful he was, never aggressive, but always understanding of her nervousness in having sexual inter course.

  Marcus had proved to her that she could be loved without demands and threats and she realized that for the first time in her life she was happy. Her temporary separation from him when she went to Harvard was a severely depressing time and the fact her father accompanied her to America terrified her as she feared that he was seizing the opportunity to once again abuse her. When she returned to the UK and eventually married Marcus it was if she had finally been set free from her father.

  Professor Cornwall was slowly reducing the amount of medication, so that they were able to actually have a therapeutic interaction. Lena had remained constantly sweet-natured and friendly with the staff and Cornwall found her delightful, intelligent, and keen to answer truthfully, as if wanting his encouragement to continue to help her understand herself.

  She talked of her jealousy of her husband’s relationship with Simon Boatly, and her attempts to dissuade Marcus from seeing him. She recalled meeting him on one particular occasion at his Mayfair flat, but said it was not productive and she behaved foolishly, which she regretted. She became uneasy when describing the birth of Amy, as it triggered feelings of despair, and she added that she had been diagnosed with ‘baby blues’, but nothing seemed to lift her depression.

  Cornwall was interested to find out how she had reacted to her father being around when Amy was born. Lena said it sent her on a downward spiral, during which she had become aggressive and abusive. The ‘Boss’ character would emerge to swear, curse and scream and it was this alter who had made her prepare the dosage of hallucinogenic mushrooms to put in her father’s drink when he had visited.

  She was calmer as she described the relief when he had died, because it meant Amy was safe from him. She was also safe from him ever telling anyone about their relationship and the fact she had smothered her mother with a washcloth in her mouth.

  Throughout all this, Cornwall made copious notes and recordings. He observed that her mother’s death brought Lena relief, as if she had rid herself of the stench of her mother and being forced to nurse her. She had therefore found it relatively easy to also get rid of her father or at the very least advance his death. The sessions after this period were often lighter as she described her joy at being with Amy. She explained it was only when it was becoming obvious that her daughter was not only beautiful, but clever, and that her husband doted on her, that the manic depression periods returned.

  Lena confessed that she was not only feeling envious of her daughter’s relationship with Marcus, but also his still ongoing friendship with Simon Boatly.

  All at once she reverted to a hideous snarl as she grimaced that she had discovered that Boatly was homosexual, and had been in a relationship with her husband. She went into a tirade of bitter hatred against Boatly and how she had been envious of their closeness. She had forced herself to be friendly towards Simon, flirted and been eager to make Marcus jealous, but he only pretended to like her and was determined to break them up and have Marcus for himself. She was sitting up on the couch and wagging her index finger in anger, and her voice was high-pitched. ‘I knew then, I knew I had to watch him, that he was trying to get Marcus to leave me, and Amy was behaving like a silly bitch, all hissy and moody; it felt as if all three were against me.’

  She flopped back and he was stunned when the low voice whispered, ‘I knew he had to go, but it was a question of when and how.’

  This time Reid was in the viewing room alone, as Jackson could no longer be bothered to be present. Hour upon hour he had religiously sat listening and taking notes. He had even got used to hearing all the different voices and characters that Lena would become. It fascinated him to begin with, but now it was often quite tedious, as Cornwall never put any pressure on her. But at last she had now admitted what she intended when she had said of Simon Boatly, ‘He had to go.’

  Reid was shocked at the change in Lena’s physical appearance; her hair was clipped back in an unflattering way, she had lost weight and looked pale and drawn. She wore woollen socks as she kept on losing her slippers, which added to her looking older and mentally unstable. Sometimes she was eager to talk, other times her voice was slurred and she seemed to find it difficult to concentrate, often repeating herself over and over, or asking for a question to be repeated as she had forgotten what Cornwall asked.

  Cornwall slowly drew from her the details of her enemies. He was able to pinpoint the time when she had begun to have severe lapses of control, which came after Marcus and Lena separated. She was repulsed by her driver, who she claimed touched her in an inappropriate manner, making her feel inadequate and incapable of being able to sack him. This was exacerbated by the suspicions that Agnes and he were in cahoots and passing information to Marcus about her business. Lena’s paranoia had been moving towards a psychotic breakdown, and with Amy spending alternate weekends with Marcus, she felt that everyone was against her. As she grew increasingly incapable of dealing with the pressure, the underlying but as yet controlled DID began to take over her rational thinking. Lena was able to concentrate on her business, and even display successful financial acumen, but after the meeting with the divorce lawyers, her most controlling identity, known as alter three or the Boss, began to dominate and coordinate the means of getting rid of her enemies. By now she was deeply concerned about Amy’s relationship with her art teacher Miss Polka, as her daughter had at some point implied that she cared for her deeply, and this was yet another sign that she was even losing her daughter’s love. She had also seen the abuse directed at Amy on the web, which intimated she was having a lesbian affair with an older woman. Although she had no idea who was responsible, in her mind – by chance correctly – it had to be the nasty little Serena who was responsible and had to pay. For being unkind to Amy.

  The Boss took over the story, slyly describing how she knew Amy had put a spare set of Marcus’s flat keys in her kitchen drawer. She related how she had stolen into the flat many times when she knew they were out, and it was most hideous to listen to her explaining how she had used a little poison to make Amy feel unwell. Sometimes she placed a few drops in a half-drunk Coke bottle already in Amy’s room, or in a meal eaten before going to her father’s flat.

  Cornwall gently prodded and queried how she had intended removing her ‘enemies’, and a previously unheard voice started to dominate the session. It was a clear, well-spoken, mature voice that often employed Latin terms. She seemed very calm and poised, using her hands very expressively, as if explaining what she was saying to someone unseen with great confidence, as if showing off.

  ‘I worked hard to come to the best conclusions as to exactly how I should realize my theories. I thought that my optimum choice was the Common Inkcap, Coprinus atramentarius, a
s if it is eaten in isolation it can have no ill effect, however if alcohol is consumed, a reaction will set in, even if it is taken many hours after a meal. Testing it out on my father, along with the hallucinogenic mushrooms, made the decision for me very simple, however the academic science laboratory was not available. Ergo I was thus forced to grow, and cross-fertilize, the fungi in the garden and basement. I have conducted considerable research into the Death Cap mushroom and was fully aware this would cause severe liver damage. I also had to think of alternative measures, as it was imperative I was not implicated, the reasons being obvious. It had to be very cleverly administered, so I could remain undetected and ostensibly innocent, therefore I chose the slow release method as the most suitable for my desired intentions.’

  Lena was sitting up with her back straight, and it seemed as if she was giving some kind of lecture. She began detailing in the same cultured voice the gastric poisons she had studied and tested in a laboratory while working in America. She was very clear about nerve poisons, especially the type that would create hallucinogenic behaviour, resulting in convulsions, irregular breathing, and often death due to heart failure. There were two types of toxins, muscarine and ibotenic acid, she found to be excellent. Her hands gesticulated gracefully as she described testing out the components to make the final decision of which exact combination she would administer.

  ‘When you had decided this, exactly how did you go about administering it to the chosen enemies?’ Cornwall asked in a relaxed manner.

  In the viewing room Reid sat on the edge of his seat, listening and watching as Lena gave a long sigh, pursed her lips and wafted her hand in a dismissive gesture.

  ‘Oh it wasn’t easy, you know. My problem with Simon Boatly was how and when to get into his house at Henley to administer it. When Marcus said he had to move out from the Green Street flat and asked me to get his clothes it created the perfect opportunity, as I thought, wrongly as it turned out, that Simon was moving back in. When I went to collect the suitcases for Marcus I already knew there was an expensive brandy there from my other secret visits. I knew Simon liked expensive brandy so I decided to inject a few drops into it using a large hypodermic needle. A stroke of genius, don’t you think? Tinged with a bit of good and bad luck though.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Cornwall asked softly.

  Even her soft laugh was cultured. ‘That poor young man Grant I met at the flat. He had no idea he was taking poisoned brandy back to Henley.’ She spread out her hands as if seeking words of approval from Cornwall.

  ‘But Grant could have died, and Marcus died because he drank the brandy.’

  ‘Then Grant would have been my mistake, but my plan worked because Simon did die. As for Marcus, well that was bad luck for him at the time, but looking back he deserved it as it was obvious he was abusing her.’

  ‘Do you believe that Marcus had something to do with Amy’s disappearance?’

  Her face twisted in anger. ‘I refuse to discuss it because it is too painful for me to even consider. The Furies came to me in continued nightmares and made me what I am.’

  ‘Who are the Furies?’ Cornwall asked.

  ‘The three avenging goddesses of Greek mythology – they torment me because I have subverted the natural order. I killed my parents, and the punishment inflicted on me by the snake-draped Furies is the madness that constantly persecutes and controls me.’

  It was difficult to know exactly what alter was controlling Lena now, as in agitation she twisted her fingers round a strand of her hair and pulled at it sharply.

  ‘Am I talking to Lena?’

  ‘Who the fuck do you think you are talking to? Jesus Christ, you are so stupid, I have explained to you exactly what she did, how much more do you want me to tell you. The Furies are punishing her but not me, they can’t frighten me.’

  It was the Boss character again and Cornwall asked if she had also intended harming Agnes and Harry, but before he could finish she dragged at her hair so roughly she pulled out several strands and held them between her fingers.

  ‘Agnes was supposed to eat the bloody bolognese. I’d cooked it the night before the first press conference and I’m surprised the neurotic bitch never complained about the mess of dirty pots and pans in the kitchen.’

  ‘Why didn’t she eat it?’

  ‘I put it in the freezer to give her later, but it had no sticky label describing what it was so she took it out and nearly gave it to Lena. But I was smart, see, I knew, so I told Lena to leave a note that Agnes can have it. Stupid bitch then gave it to that halfwit Harry.’

  ‘So Harry’s death was a sort of accident?’

  ‘No, he got what he deserved as well, and as for that nosey bitch who was so ungrateful, well I haven’t finished with her – selling Lena’s photographs to the gutter press for money. If you hurt Lena I hurt you back tenfold.’

  ‘What about Amy, did you pay her back tenfold?’

  Slowly she lowered her head, and her shoulders shook. Reid leaned forward towards the monitor, waiting for the revealing answer, but nothing came as Lena remained silent, with a smirk on her face. It was immensely frustrating as they had gained so much this session, and he hoped it was not going to end.

  ‘Did you really believe that Marcus would have hurt Amy?’

  She shook her head and the tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘He loved her more than me, but I loved her more than my life.’

  It was again difficult to fathom who she was now as her tone of voice changed once more and she kept her hands over her face.

  ‘So you don’t think Marcus would have done the things the others told you about?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head again as the tears kept trickling down, and neither Cornwall nor Reid could detect if she was now herself, or summoning up one of her army of protectors.

  ‘Do you know anyone who harmed Amy?’

  ‘Serena, she was very nasty to Amy.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  Lena looked up at Cornwall with a wicked glint in her eye, then let out a loud disparaging sigh. ‘Because I’m the fucking Boss so I have to know everything that goes on to maintain order. I can’t have any of those other bastards inside her telling me what to do. To stay on top you need to know your enemies and that Serena was sending nasty stuff, because I saw Amy’s Facebook calling her a slut, lesbian and other things.’

  Cornwall realized the Boss had been playing games, luring him in with fake tears and then seeking to dominate the conversation. ‘But how did you know it was Serena?’

  ‘Because only someone close to Amy like Serena would know and make nasty comments about Lena and Marcus being separated.’

  ‘How did you make her pay for being horrible?’

  ‘Home-made truffles that Lena gave Amy to give to Serena as a sleepover thank-you.’

  ‘Amy gave them to Mrs Newman, not Serena.’

  Lena laughed out loud. ‘Really? How funny . . .’

  ‘But Serena did eat one and was very sick,’ Cornwall said, deliberately pandering to the Boss’s ego.

  ‘There wasn’t enough poison to really hurt Serena, but enough to teach her a lesson and make her vomit and run to the toilet. A lot of squitty poos.’

  Cornwall sighed. She was retreating into a childish voice again, and he glanced towards the hidden camera in frustration, wondering if the Boss was playing games once more.

  ‘What about Amy? Was she given anything that made her vomit?’

  ‘I only gave her a little now and again, just enough to make her sick. If she was ill she’d want to come back home and stay with me.’

  Cornwall picked up on the similarity to Serena’s predicament. ‘Did you give Amy chocolate truffles as well?’

  Lena just stared at him and Cornwall was concerned she would retreat further before he could get the answers he sought.

  ‘Did she eat the truffles, was there too much poison in them, did it all go horribly wrong?’ he asked rapidly, desperate for an answer. He took hold of
her hand. ‘Tell me what’s happened to Amy?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She was hardly audible as she clung to him tightly.

  ‘You know the people that told you what they thought Marcus had done to Amy, well they need to know if you have ever done anything to harm her.’

  ‘She ran away, she disappeared.’

  ‘Do you know where she’s gone?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you have anything to do with Amy running away?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You can tell me, I will understand.’

  She withdrew her hand and covered her face and let out a wretched howl. Reid stood up, certain that she was about to admit to playing some part in Amy’s disappearance, or even worse, killing her.

  She screamed, flailing her arms. ‘I DON’T KNOW . . . I DON’T KNOW . . . I DON’T KNOW.’

  Cornwall tried to calm her and the nurses moved closer to restrain her. He knew he had to try to get an answer, even though it was obvious Lena was very distressed and becoming hysterical.

  ‘Did you kill Amy?’

  ‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’ she howled and began sobbing uncontrollably. He stood up and helped the nurses settle her back to lie on the couch, but she suddenly kicked out and then curled her body into a foetal position. He gestured for one of the nurses to prepare a syringe with a sedative as he leaned over her. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. She lifted her left arm towards him, and then her eyes widened as she whispered,

  ‘You remind me of my daddy.’

  Cornwall injected the sedative then checked her pulse; he asked if she could hear him, but she simply stared at the wall. There was no response, she was retreating, and it was evident as she slowly closed her eyes, totally silent, falling into a druginduced stupor.