Twisted (36 page)

‘Do you think Amy may have run away and still be alive?’

‘If she has totally adopted the persona of an “alter” then most certainly yes,’ Cornwall said with assurance. ‘She, or rather one of her personalities, could have orchestrated the disappearance very carefully, even down to changing her appearance, dyeing her hair and living somewhere else as that person.’

‘I don’t think Amy’s had the journal very long and we’ve found nothing else, not even in her old diaries. These were kept when she was quite young and do not give any indication of what you described as “alters” or abusive writing.’

Cornwall looked at his watch again. ‘I’d like to see the original journal when your forensic people have finished with it. I’m really pressed for time, Inspector, but I will get back to you when I’ve made a more detailed study of what’s written in the journal.’

Reid stood up and thanked Cornwall for his time.

‘Tell me, Inspector Reid, why did you come to me?’

‘I met a psychologist called Marjory Jordan after discovering Amy’s mother is bipolar and she recommended you.’

‘She spoke to you about a patient?’

‘No, she was quite cagey actually. I don’t think she wants to get involved in giving expert opinion on the journal.’

‘If you’d like to leave me Ms Jordan’s phone number I will give her a call; it may well assist me.’

‘No problem, Professor, and thanks for all your help; it also gives me renewed faith that Amy may actually be alive and well.’

‘Physically, yes, Inspector,’ said Cornwall grimly, ‘but psychologically, I fear not.’

‘Once a thief always a thief,’ Jackson said to DS Styles as they left Lena Fulford’s house. ‘Dunn’s nervous and I don’t trust him. Get a search warrant for wherever he lives. Just look at his record – what on earth is she doing employing him?’

Styles reckoned that if Harry had stolen anything he’d be shrewd enough, as an ex-con, to get rid of it after almost two weeks of the police sniffing around. In fact DCI Jackson was seething, taking it out on Dunn because he was furious about this so-called journal that Reid had not mentioned to him either verbally or in any report.

Jackson rang the station to enquire if DI Reid was there, only to be told that he had phoned in earlier but had gone to an appointment with a forensic psychiatrist.

‘What the fuck’s that about, and who authorized it?’ he snapped.

‘Reid didn’t say and I assumed you authorized it, sir.’

Jackson cut off the call, saying that Reid would need a fucking ‘shrink’ after he was through with him. He then instructed Styles to drive to Green Street as he wanted to interview Marcus Fulford.

Marcus had started to pack two suitcases; he would return to get the rest of his belongings some time later. He had tried to call Simon but his phone was continually on answer phone. He was taken aback at how abruptly the lawyers had asked for him to quit the flat, and at first had presumed it was some mistake. However, when he spoke to them they made it clear that it was Mr Boatly’s decision and the flat would be cleared of furniture and put on the market. They also requested that he submit the rent arrears forthwith.

Halfway through packing, Marcus received a disturbing call from his solicitor Jacob Lyons’ secretary. She had asked for payment due and said that if he wished for Mr Lyons to continue to represent him then he should submit by cheque or electronic transfer the amount outstanding. She also said that Mr Lyons wished to know when they could put in the diary the next meeting to discuss the settlement, and that this would incur a separate payment.

Marcus had said that Mr Boatly was overseeing payment, but he was told that to the contrary they had now been instructed to request payment directly from him. Marcus was at a loss as to why Simon had changed his mind, as he had no funds whatsoever and it was impossible for him to cover the high costs requested by Lyons.

He had just finishing packing when the doorbell rang. Marcus walked out onto the landing to meet Jackson.

‘I am sorry, Detective, but this is really not a very convenient time.’

Jackson flipped open his ID with a flourish. ‘It’s convenient to me, sir,’ he announced bullishly. ‘I am with the murder squad and am now handling the investigation into your daughter’s disappearance.’

A shaken Marcus took a step back and asked if he was there because they had found her.

‘No news as yet,’ Jackson said and introduced DS Styles.

‘I was just packing, but come in.’

From the look on Jackson’s face he felt he had better quickly explain that he was going back to be with his wife. Jackson noticed Marcus appeared very agitated as he looked round the flat, pushing open Amy’s bedroom door, and then peering into Marcus’s bedroom with the packed cases on top of his bed.

‘Going permanently, are you?’

‘The owner of the flat wants to put it on the market.’

‘Really, and what would a place like this bring to Mr Boatly?’

Marcus shrugged and said probably in the region of three million plus, due to its location, and gestured for them to go into the sitting room. He then confronted Jackson.

‘My wife is very distressed and I feel she needs me to be with her. I presume you were the detectives that were at the house earlier, and upset Lena with some very disturbing allegations about my daughter. I think under the circumstances it would have been more diplomatic to speak me first, because you brought on her panic attack.’

Jackson sat on a wingback chair, his legs apart like a sumo wrestler. He explained his murder team were under pressure to get a result.

‘Mr Fulford, you have admitted to paying prostitutes and entertaining them here. Then there’s the discovery of a peephole and pornography in your daughter’s bedroom, as well as female underwear stained with your semen. We even have CCTV footage clearly showing your daughter attempting to pick up a man virtually on your doorstep. Let’s stop the bullshit and get to the truth, shall we?’

‘I have nothing to add to the many statements I have already given,’ Marcus said, hardly able to contain his anger.

‘I agree that you have given statements, but I don’t believe what you told DI Reid about your movements from the Saturday when your daughter disappeared to when she was reported missing.’

‘What in God’s name are you trying to accuse me of?’

‘I believe you did meet with your daughter, and that she was here in this flat to look for her watch. There was some kind of altercation between you – possibly she threatened to report you for sexually abusing her – and as a result you killed her. Let’s be honest, you had more than enough time to dispose of her body over the weekend.’

Marcus was across the room and dragging Jackson to his feet by the lapels of his raincoat. He was in such a fury his face was puce and his fist was clenched to punch Jackson, but Styles pulled him off before Marcus could swing at him.

‘You have quite a temper, Mr Fulford. Is that what happened – she made you angry enough to attack her and—?’

Marcus yet again attempted to get to Jackson and this time Jackson pushed him in the chest so hard he fell backwards, landing on his backside. He was panting with rage and gasping for breath.

‘That is a bloody disgusting lie, THAT IS A LIE!’

Jackson spread his arms in disbelief. ‘We only have your word for that. Now get up, sit down and behave yourself, or do you want me to get the cuffs out?’

Marcus deflated and sank into in an armchair, as defenceless as a child. It was wretched to see a man so distressed and shaking as the tears ran down his cheeks. Unable to control himself, he kept repeating that he would never harm his daughter.

Jackson’s mobile rang and he told Marcus to remain seated while he went into the corridor and closed the door so he could take the call. The search of Harry Dunn’s flat had brought a result. They had found Amy Fulford’s Cartier watch shoved into the back of a drawer. Dunn had claimed that he had found it when he was cleaning the Mini, and was going to hand it to the police but had forgotten to do so. Jackson said to arrest Harry and take him to the station for further questioning.

Once back in the sitting room, Jackson informed Marcus he was arresting him on suspicion of murder and cautioned him. He would be interviewed at the station. He then instructed Styles to handcuff Marcus.

‘You can’t do this, you can’t.’

A uniformed sergeant booked Marcus in at the station and read him his legal rights. He was very subdued and used his phone call not to call a solicitor but Lena. She was shaken but stayed calm as he said that they thought he had something to do with Amy’s disappearance, but deliberately didn’t mention he’d been arrested on suspicion of murder.

‘That bastard that came to the house to see you, he was at the flat and making false accusations; I lost my temper and he arrested me.’

‘Are you all right?’

‘No, I am in a terrible state. Please, Lena, hire someone to get me out of here. I’d packed suitcases to come to the house and my car is still at Green Street. I had a spare set of keys for the flat and car keys made for emergencies and gave them to Amy. She told me she put them in the back of the kitchen drawer at yours. Get Harry to go over there in a taxi and take the cases to the house in my car.’

Marcus’s time was up and he had to end the call. He had no idea if Lena was able to deal with the situation; he just hoped she wouldn’t get hysterical again.

Lena searched drawer after drawer in the kitchen, until she found the spare sets of keys to the Green Street flat and Marcus’s car. Agnes hovered, knowing exactly where they were, but Lena had snapped at her to mind her own business. It was in fact Agnes who had suggested they have a spare set in case of an emergency, and Marcus had agreed.

‘Is everything all right?’ Agnes asked as Lena, keys in hand, swept past her.

‘No it is not. Tell Harry I want him to drive me to Green Street.’

‘He’s not here, Mrs Fulford. He was with the detectives earlier and then he went home.’

‘Then bloody call him to get here straight away. I’ll be in my office.’

Lena decided to contact a lawyer she had used when she had a problem with a company that had refused payment for a massive delivery, claiming it was not satisfactory. He had been a tough operator and costly, but it had been worthwhile. She spoke briefly to him and explained that her husband had been arrested for being abusive to a detective and held at Fulham Broadway Station. He politely declined, as he was more a litigation lawyer, but suggested using one of his partners who was a criminal and legal solicitor with a very good reputation. She steeled herself to enquire how much he would charge for a retainer and asked him to go immediately to the station, as her husband was very anxious to have representation.

Lena had just finished when Agnes tapped on the office door and entered.

‘I just spoke to Harry’s wife and she told me he’s been arrested, something to do with stolen property, but the police didn’t say what it was.’

‘Stupid idiot. I thought he’d gone straight,’ Lena said, wondering if he was up to his old tricks. ‘I want you to order me a taxi as I have to go out.’

‘Yes, Mrs Fulford. Where do you need to go?’

‘That’s none of your business, Agnes.’

‘Sorry, Mrs Fulford. Would you like me to leave something out for your dinner? There’s some nice chicken in white—’

‘Not now please, Agnes, just go and call the cab.’

Tight-lipped, Agnes walked back to the kitchen. It was hard to believe that not long ago Lena had been comatose and exhausted after her panic attack. She was now all business-like and short-tempered.

Lena went into her bedroom, took out her camel coat, and went down to the kitchen to wait for the taxi. Once she was on her way she took out her mobile to call Harry Dunn’s wife. The woman tearfully insisted over and over that Harry had done nothing wrong, he had been on the straight and narrow for years and was not into any kind of criminal activity because he was so proud of his job driving for Lena.

‘Is it connected in any way to my daughter?’

‘All they said was he’d stolen something. I am so sorry for this as I know what you must be going through and Harry has been so worried.’

Lena ended the call abruptly – as if they really knew what she was going through, she thought to herself. She sat up straight, refusing to even think about why she had been so shocked by the repellent Detective Jackson’s wicked assertions about Amy. She clenched her hands, telling herself to not even think about what they had implied, forcing any emotion down inside her by tightening her stomach muscles. Marcus was in trouble, he’d asked her to sort it out, and becoming in control and being needed helped her deal with the constant pain of fear for Amy.

Chapter 26

L
ena had carried the first suitcase down to the Mini and returned to collect the second one when she felt herself drawn to Amy’s bedroom. Stepping over discarded clothes and shoes, she peered into the wardrobe. The acrid smell of stale sweat and cheap cloying perfume still lingered and was even more nauseating than the previous time she had been there. Now she wanted to touch the discarded clothes, hold them to her face and try to understand what had made her beautiful daughter turn into a slut in this dirty soiled room.

Lena had read horrible things in the journal she’d given to Detective Reid, but she didn’t believe that they could have anything to do with the disgusting things Jackson had told her.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she faced the wall and the poster that was now rolled up on the floor beneath the peephole. She got up and stood closer until her face was pressed to the wall and she could see clearly into the bedroom used by Marcus and his whores. She knew full well he was and always had been promiscuous. Although she never told him she knew, she had forgiven his unfaithfulness because of her own frigidity. It was not until she had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and gone into extensive therapy with Marjory Jordan, that she realized why she had behaved in the way she had. By that time it was too late and he had asked for the separation.

She shook herself. There was no time for her to think about all of that now. Going to collect the second suitcase and walking into the hall, she didn’t know who was more shocked, the young man with the ponytail or herself.