Twisted

Chapter 9

Marcus had a thick head; his mouth felt rancid and the phone ringing had woken him from his drink-fuelled sleep. He was so eager to reach it he slipped sideways off the bed. Hoping it would be Amy, he struggled to sound coherent as DI Reid asked if he would come to the station as he was organizing a press meeting and had arranged for journalists to be present at a ten-fifteen briefing. He also told him that Mrs Fulford had been informed and said she would be there. Marcus agreed and replaced the phone, only for it to ring straight away. He snatched it up, with no idea what time it was, and now his head throbbed. Lena didn’t sound like herself; her voice was very subdued as she asked if Detective Reid had made contact about the press conference.

‘Yes.’

‘I think we should go together if that’s okay with you?’

‘Sure, I’ll come over to your house first. What time is it now?’

‘Just after eight, and you need to be here no later than nine thirty.’

‘No problem. I’ll get dressed and be with you in about an hour.’

‘They haven’t heard anything,’ she said quietly.

‘I guessed as much, so I’ll see you later.’

‘Please wear a pair of socks and look presentable. If we have to meet the press we should at least show up looking decent.’

She hung up and he dragged himself into the kitchen, put a pot of coffee on and opened a bottle of aspirin. He didn’t give a shit about looking presentable and it was absolutely typical of Lena to tell him what to wear. She had often treated him like a kid, and it irritated him, but he would shave and make an effort.

Lena was dressed and having her coffee when her housekeeper arrived.

‘Any news?’ Agnes asked, removing her coat.

‘No, not yet.’

‘I was telling Natalie about it last night; she was so upset – have they any idea what’s happened?’ Agnes went on.

‘No, and I would appreciate it, Agnes, if you did not discuss this situation with anyone outside the family.’

Agnes pursed her lips and nodded as her boss went upstairs, then she noticed the mess of cooking utensils left in the sink. It wasn’t very often that Mrs Fulford cooked for herself, but it really annoyed Agnes that whenever she did she never bothered to put the dirty pans, pots, plates or utensils in the dishwasher.

Lena sat in her study and wondered how upset Natalie would be if she read what Amy had written about her. Agnes was also viciously depicted as a stone-faced harridan with an obsessive compulsive disorder. Amy had said that Agnes’s obsession about placing groceries into plastic bags and plastic boxes in the fridge, all labelled in her thick black marker pen, was ridiculous; Amy reckoned that if she stood still long enough Agnes would put a plastic bag over her head, and put her in the deep freeze, adding that Agnes would probably describe the contents as ‘Rich bitch frozen daughter’.

There was a lengthy description of how Mary Shelley, the author of Frankenstein, had craved her father’s approval as he was always so cold and vicious towards her, and how she had felt that if she remained still and silent there was nothing he could complain about. Mary Shelley had even practised making her breathing so shallow it could not annoy him. Amy had practised being totally silent around Agnes, never replying to her queries, ignoring her presence, so that eventually she was thrilled that Agnes no longer even looked at her. She had written so many pages describing the housekeeper that it was difficult to make sense of her reasoning. She appeared to have a hatred of her and felt that she was evil and twisted and that her mother was foolish enough not to even notice that the pale round-faced woman was infiltrating the house. Amy was just as vitriolic about Agnes’s precious daughter and how much she detested having to hear about her. Natalie she described as a cloying dependant, who was so controlled by her mother she was dysfunctional and needy, and to hear Agnes constantly referring to her as gorgeous made her want to vomit.

Lena called Harry Dunn to say she would not require him that morning but for him to come to the house after lunch. As with Agnes, the descriptions of her driver were vicious. Knowing that he had a police record for burglary, Amy had implied that her mother was foolish to even allow him to have access to the house. She described him as ‘rat-like’, his small hands and dainty feet as repellent, and also noted he smelt of some odious cologne that permeated the Lexus; again she wrote how stupid her mother was to trust him. She had described his clothes in detail, and knew that he purchased them from a second-hand charity shop in Knightsbridge, noting that his tailored suits and two-toned brogues had probably previously been worn by some dapper homosexual who had more than likely died of AIDS. Lena had still not really digested her daughter’s character studies of her household staff, or thought why she had compiled such vitriolic assessments; she had been too distressed at reading about herself and Marcus.

Now she looked out of the window and saw Marcus parking on the driveway, so she opened the front door and stood waiting for him.

‘We should drive to the station together.’

‘Fine, whatever you want, but I need to look at the journal.’

‘We don’t have time; it’s good to see you have at least made an effort.’

Marcus was wearing a Tom Ford navy pinstripe suit with an open-collared shirt and had put on socks, but she reprimanded him about being tie-less.

‘For chrissakes, does it matter?’

‘I think so, because we’re going to meet the press, but it’s too late now. I’ll get my coat and we can go straight away.’

Marcus was left standing by his Mini, the door wide open, the keys still in the ignition. Agnes appeared at the front door.

‘Good morning, Mr Fulford,’ she said and he gave her a brief nod.

‘I hope you get some good news.’

‘So do I, Agnes; it’s all very distressing, but we’re trying to remain positive.’

Lena walked past Agnes without a word, and joined Marcus; she glanced at his filthy car.

‘Don’t you ever have a valet service? It’s disgusting. We’ll go in the Lexus and you can drive.’

‘Fine,’ he said, slamming the Mini door shut as she passed him her car keys. Agnes remained where she was, watching as the Lexus reversed and drove out. Lena had virtually ignored her but that was nothing new, and without being asked she went into the kitchen and called Harry, suggesting he should come over and wash Mr Fulford’s car. He was not too pleased as he had been told he had the morning off, but he nevertheless agreed. Agnes returned to the Mini and opened it, taking the keys Marcus had left in the ignition and deciding she would ask Harry to clean the inside as well – he could drive it round to the garage so he could use the jet spray and vacuum the interior.

Marcus drove in silence as Lena sat beside him for the ten-minute drive. Lena was nervous, and was glad to have him beside her, slipping her hand through his arm as they walked the final few yards from the car, and he looked down and gave her a small glum smile. Together they entered the station where DC Barbara Burrows was waiting. She led them to the witness interview room, where they took their places on straight-backed chairs behind a Formica-topped table. After a few moments DI Reid walked in, carrying a thick folder, and drew up a chair to sit facing them.

‘Thank you for agreeing to come in, I really appreciate it. Obviously you would have contacted me if you had received any news of your daughter’s whereabouts, so it is imperative we set the wheels in motion to gain as much assistance from the press and public as possible. I need you to agree to what I can divulge to the journalists or let me know if anything feels inappropriate and you would prefer it not to be mentioned. That said, it is imperative we give them as much information as is possible to have a successful appeal that brings forward information to help find Amy.’

Marcus looked to Lena and then back to Reid. ‘I don’t think there is anything either my wife or I would not agree to being made public. We are obviously desperate to find Amy so we’ll give you whatever you need from us.’

Lena leaned forward. ‘What about our address – do you give our personal details, or just the area?’

‘We intend to be protective of your privacy, but that said, it could be discovered, and requesting assistance from the public can also encourage unwanted attention. However, if that happens I will endeavour to have uniform officers stand guard at your premises.’

Marcus glanced at Lena and she nodded her head in appreciation. Reid checked his wristwatch and opened the file, taking out a few pages, and clicked open a felt tip pen. He explained that he had brought in a team of officers to begin house-to-house enquiries, and that he would need access to both their homes. He wanted Amy’s bedrooms carefully searched and any items removed would of course be recorded for their information. He seemed pressed for time, skim-reading pages and making a few cryptic notes as he quickly covered the exact time Amy was last seen, and gave a brief outline of the statements so far gathered from the Newman family and the staff at Amy’s school.

‘Has Amy’s iPhone been found or traced yet?’ Marcus asked.

‘Not as yet. It’s still work in progress and we are monitoring it with the phone company. The battery may be flat, but if it is recharged and switched on we will be informed right away and will be able to locate its whereabouts,’ he said, collecting the pages and replacing them in the folder.

Reid found them both to be calm, and eager to be as helpful as possible, which he thought admirable in light of the emotional turmoil they must both be going through. He gave an encouraging smile.

‘Press appeals help us to gain the public’s assistance and more often than not allow us to locate missing persons. I am also hoping to get a slot on a new television crime programme, which would broaden the appeal and in turn increase public interest.’

‘Thank you, Inspector Reid,’ Lena replied.

He checked with Lena the description of the clothes worn by Amy, as described by the Newmans’ nanny: the maroon jumper with frilled cuffs, blue ballet pumps and black leggings. Lena did recall buying a cashmere top from Brora that fitted the description, and added she remembered it distinctly because she had purchased one for herself, which she agreed to give to Reid as it would assist the investigation.

Marcus and Lena remained silent as Reid replaced his chair, checked his watch again and then said DC Burrows would join them in about ten minutes and take them to the conference room. Left alone, they sat in silence until Marcus reached out and placed his hand over hers.

‘You okay?’

She nodded, and gripped his hand tightly.

‘Are you?’

‘No, but at least I feel as if things are being done, and maybe this press appeal will bring her home.’

Lena chewed at her lips and could feel the tears welling up. She found it difficult to talk, her tongue felt swollen and she could hardly swallow. He still gripped her hand tightly, and like her he suddenly found the emotional upheaval difficult to deal with, and was trying to keep his composure when DC Burrows tapped and entered.

‘Hello again, just wondered if you needed to use the bathroom before I take you into the conference room.’

Lena stood up and nodded. ‘Thank you, I do need to go.’

Lena followed DC Burrows out, and Marcus, left alone, clenched and unclenched his hands. He had been concerned, very worried, even angry, but now he was beginning to feel a terrible sense of dread. Close to tears, he sniffed, and then closed his eyes as he prayed that what he had begun to fear could not be true: he would never see Amy again.

Lena was washing her hands in a small cracked washbasin in the ladies’ toilets. She drew down a roller towel and carefully dried them, then stood and ran her fingers through her hair. She had forgotten to bring her handbag with her, and she wanted to freshen up her lipstick and powder her face, as it looked patchy from tearstains. She needed a drink as her throat felt so dry, and when Burrows returned to ask if she was ready she asked if she could possibly have a glass of water. Burrows said there would be some on the table and they were now ready for them to join the conference.

Lena gave the policewoman a pitiful pleading look. ‘Tell me, these press conferences, do they bring a result? I mean is it usual that they find whoever is missing?’

Burrows had never before been on a missing person’s case, and in today’s early morning session Reid had indicated a depressing possible outcome. Amy Fulford had been missing since Saturday afternoon and it was now Wednesday morning. There had been no contact, no sightings, and it seemed she had disappeared leaving no clue of her whereabouts. Added to this was the fact it was apparently totally out of character – she had never gone missing previously and seemingly had no boyfriends, no history of drug or alcohol abuse, and to date they could find no reason for her to run away. Although DI Reid had not expressed his personal views, he had made his team aware that with nothing on CCTV, and no witness sightings they had to contemplate the worst-case scenario. Amy Fulford could have been abducted, held against her will, raped and possibly murdered. However, he still hoped that they would find her alive and well and return her safely to her family.