Twisted

Chapter 10

The raised small platform in the conference room held seats for the Fulfords, the uniformed Chief Superintendent John Douglas and DI Reid. Behind them was a dark blue curtain with a large Metropolitan Police crest and two large blow-up photographs of Amy positioned on either side. Seated in a row of hard-backed chairs were numerous local and national journalists. Cameras were positioned to film the meeting, and photographers sat in the back row, ready to swing into action when permission was granted. Both Lena and Marcus had agreed to give statements to the press and if they wished to speak at the meeting they would be allowed to do so. To one side was a large screen on which Reid planned to show the route they believed Amy might have taken that Saturday afternoon.

Chief Superintendent Douglas thanked everyone for being present, introduced Lena and Marcus and then handed over the meeting to DI Reid. Reid spoke clearly and concisely, outlining their concerns and the publicity he hoped the meeting would generate. Amy, he said, was only fifteen years old and her parents were deeply distressed and appealed for anyone with information to come forward. They already knew that Amy, who had a bank account and cash card, had not withdrawn any large amounts of money recently. He continued to elaborate on the problems of tracing the exact route Amy might have taken from Fulham to Mayfair. He added there was a football match on that same Saturday afternoon at the Chelsea stadium, Stamford Bridge. This, he said, could possibly bring forward witnesses but it also meant that the area was quite congested not only with vehicles but with groups of fans heading towards the match.

The screen lit up to show a map of the Fulham Road with the Newmans’ street, Harwood Road, flagged up, and this led directly onto the Fulham Road. The most viable means of transport Amy might have used to reach her father’s Mayfair flat were bus and Underground, and they were asking for any witness that saw her either on the street, Tube or a bus to come forward. Bus stops were flagged, as well as the route from Fulham Road towards Knightsbridge, Park Lane, Marble Arch and Mayfair.

Lena had calmed down and Marcus kept his hand over hers as they listened intently to the lengthy press conference. Reid said that MISSING PERSON – APPEAL FOR ASSISTANCE flyers had been handed out by officers in all the aforementioned areas, but as yet there had been no witness that actually saw Amy after she had left the property in Harwood Road. Reid expressed the importance of the press coverage and described Amy as a caring quiet well-educated girl and said it was doubtful she would have accepted a lift from anyone she did not know. He went on to say they were considering the possibility Amy had been abducted off the street and that if so someone out there must have seen or heard something, but there had been no kidnap threat or ransom demand.

He then turned to the Fulfords and asked if either of them would like to say a few words. Lena gripped Marcus’s hand tightly, afraid to say anything.

Marcus cleared his throat. ‘I’d like to thank DI Reid and everyone for their dedication in trying to find our daughter Amy.’ He released Lena’s hand and sipped from a glass of water. He coughed again, almost unable to continue, then spoke in a very emotional voice.

‘Amy is our pride and joy and the most beloved and caring young girl, and I beg anyone who saw her, or knows where she may be, to please come forward and tell the police. My wife and I are desperate for our daughter to return home. Thank you.’

It was some considerable time later when the conference eventually broke up. DI Reid had asked for an officer to follow Lena home to retrieve the jumper identical to the one they believed Amy was last seen wearing. Meanwhile, he wanted to have a few private words with Marcus and as he had driven Lena to the station he arranged for a squad car to take her home. Marcus waited in the same small interview room they had previously used.

‘You mind if I just ask you a few personal questions, Mr Fulford?’ said Reid when he finally joined him.

‘No, not at all, anything you need to know, please go ahead.’ Marcus kept his voice level but he was nervous, worrying if Lena had mentioned what they had discussed the previous evening.

‘Right, we need to have our forensics people check over your flat, specifically your daughter’s bedroom, and we will also require the same permission from your wife. I would like you to be present, so if you could be available early this afternoon?’

Marcus nodded, promising to return the Lexus to his wife’s house and drive straight home.

‘Do you think your wife would like to have a family liaison officer present? It must be a very emotionally draining time,’ Reid said.

‘I think that is a question you need to ask Lena, but I will be giving her as much care and attention as I can.’

‘You are separated and live apart – do you feel this could have had an adverse effect on Amy?’

‘No, not at all, it’s been two years and it was amicable.’

Reid nodded and, choosing his words carefully, he said that he would need to know Marcus’s whereabouts during the time Amy had been missing. This would mean that he needed the names of any girlfriends or partners Marcus was involved with. He pointed out that they had made no reference at the conference to the fact he and his wife were involved in divorce proceedings but it would probably become known if the investigation was to continue.

‘What do you mean, continue?’ Marcus asked.

‘Well, hopefully we will find her. If that occurs then we will not continue the search, but what you have to understand is that is exactly what will be going on – an extensive and at times very invasive search into your backgrounds. Your privacy will feel as if it is being invaded, but we cannot skirt any possible area that might give us some indication of what has happened to your daughter.’

Marcus nodded; he was starting to sweat profusely and he was certain that Reid’s probing questions had a hidden agenda.

‘I will give you anything you need, if you just tell me what you want from me.’

Getting to his feet, Reid thanked him and said he would discuss it further that afternoon. Marcus was ushered out, while Reid went up into the incident room, which was a hive of activity but so far with no result. Amy Fulford seemed to have disappeared without a single sighting. He’d by now asked for checks on the properties that Lena Fulford had rented in Devon, and had received the background report on the prison record of Harry Dunn. It was surprising that someone with such obvious business acumen as Lena Fulford would employ as her driver a man with a lengthy record of burglaries. Reid was unsure if he actually approved of Dunn being given a chance to keep on the straight and narrow, but he had worked for her for over two years with no apparent problem. Reid would want to question him again and also the housekeeper, Mrs Agnes Moors, who it turned out also had a rather chequered background of employment with various companies but never as a housekeeper, and had been made redundant rather too many times.

Reid also had a strange feeling about Marcus Fulford, although he couldn’t actually pinpoint what it was exactly that worried him. He had asked for both Lena and Marcus’s financial situations to be looked into. She was the obvious breadwinner, so perhaps his insistence that their separation was amicable might not be exactly true. By now it was after one and Reid needed something to eat as he had been at the station since before seven that morning, so he took himself up to the canteen. Barbara Burrows was finishing her lunch and gave him a warm smile. She was a little in awe of him and was obviously trying to think what she should say, eventually blurting out, ‘No news yet?’

‘No,’ he said as he fetched a tray and lined up for steak and kidney pie and French fries. He sighed. No news, not so much as a whisper, and he had hoped the press releases would at least bring him something to act on. Taking his tray to a vacant table, he sat with his back to the rest of the room, not wanting to be joined or forced to have a conversation with anyone.

Harry Dunn had almost filled a large plastic rubbish bag with old newspapers, food cartons, cigarette stubs and empty beer cans from the car’s interior and now he was giving the Mini a final polish. He was in a quandary as to what exactly he should do about discovering a Cartier watch that must have fallen between the front seats. He guessed it must have been there for some time, as there were mud stains on the carpet and smudges on the watch face. Right now, it was in his pocket. He’d had a job to vacuum up the dirt from the carpets, having to get on his hands and knees and use a stiff brush to lift the dried mud from the driver’s and passenger sides. As he buffed the dashboard and stood back admiring his work, he decided he would simply not mention finding the watch and if a good enough length of time elapsed he’d sell it to a friend he’d used on many occasions to fence stolen goods. He got into the car, drove it round to the front of the house and parked up, taking the keys in to Agnes. He was hoping for coffee and a Penguin biscuit, but a police car drew up with Mrs Fulford in it and so he made a quick exit via the garden doors and returned to the garage. He would finish clearing up in there, rewind the hose and wait to find out if he was needed.

Lena hurried up the stairs and into her bedroom. She opened the door to the section of the wardrobe containing all her sweaters and took out the one she believed to be identical to Amy’s. It was fine cashmere with a scooped neck and long sleeves, the cuffs frilled with a small band of maroon lace. She returned to the waiting officer and handed him the sweater, which she had wrapped in tissue paper. Assuring her he’d have it photographed, he also asked if she would allow it to appear in any TV re-enactment. Lena agreed. Agnes had been listening and asked Lena if there was any further news, but Lena didn‘t reply and walked away.

Back upstairs in her bedroom she noticed the heavy thick white curtains that were lined with a pale green satin had been moved. She knew straight away that as always Agnes had, instead of leaving a section of satin showing as she preferred, straightened them to hang down without any lining visible. Irritated, she flipped them open further to reveal the green material. She couldn’t help but remember what Amy had written about Agnes, and although Lena was aware of her housekeeper’s curtain fixation, she had not, she realized, bothered to draw Agnes’s attention to the fact she liked to be able to see the lining.

Agnes had made the bed, stacking the many cushions in a dead straight line along the raised pillows, and Lena had a moment of panic when she realized the journal had been placed on her bedside table. She wondered if Agnes had read any of it, and hoped not, but just in case she placed the journal in her underwear drawer. At the sound of Marcus’s voice drifting up from the downstairs hall, she hurried to join him.

‘I’ve got to go back to my flat to meet up with DI Reid. Can you give me the journal to take with me?’

‘No, it’s better it stays here with me,’ she prevaricated. ‘Come over this evening and we can discuss it then, because I still don’t think the police should have access to it. It’s not as if it contains any details of where she might be or who she might be with, and it’s full of too many personal details.’

Marcus hesitated but then agreed and went into the kitchen to collect the keys to his car from Agnes. She mentioned that she had asked Harry to clean it, and he thanked her then took out his wallet and passed her a ten-pound note. ‘Give this to him from me.’

Agnes took the tenner and said she would see that Harry received it. She walked Marcus to the front door, asking him if he would like a sandwich, as it was way past lunchtime, but he declined and got into his gleaming Mini. It would probably have cost treble that amount if he had taken it to a valet service, but he was short of cash and hoped he had enough petrol to get him back to Mayfair.

Agnes headed round to the garage and Harry physically jumped as she walked in. She handed him the ten-pound note, and he gave a shrug of his shoulders as he pocketed it. The Cartier watch was still in his jacket that was hanging up by the hosepipe.

‘Do you know if she will be needing me this afternoon?’

‘No I don’t; they came and took away something she gave them, but I’ve no idea what it was.’

Lena went into her office, sitting for a while in front of her computer, but was unable to concentrate, or even contemplate thinking about business. She was completely drained, and opening a drawer took out a family photo album that she used to keep on her desk. So many photographs were of Marcus and Amy and herself on various holidays and now with their pending divorce she couldn’t stand to even look at it. Slowly she turned the thick cellophane-covered pages depicting their happy times. The first photograph of Amy with white-blonde hair sitting on a beach with a bucket and spade aged three years shocked Lena at just how beautiful her daughter was then, and page after page delivered the same emotional impact. Amy was stunning, always smiling and playful; photographs of them together brought back a flood of memories. Marcus tanned and athletic, carrying his daughter on his shoulders, Marcus and Amy swimming and diving, Amy riding a little pony she had adored. Lena smiling in a sundress with Amy clinging to her. Page after page showed her daughter getting older, but even minus front teeth she had retained such perfect features – she had been a gorgeous little girl. Lena knew she had spoiled her; every Christmas photograph showed a mountain of gifts stacked under a decorated tree. Towards the end of the album were pictures of Amy at thirteen; she was not smiling as much, but more often staring wide-eyed into the camera. The last photograph was taken more than two years ago; it was Amy in her school uniform, glum-faced and holding in her arms her old worn teddy bear that she now hated ever to be parted from.

Closing the book, Lena wondered where their old home movies were as she began to think she should maybe select something to give to the police. All the while she ignored the flashing light on her business line, refusing to even listen to the messages, ten in all. Now she was intent on trying to recall where the tapes would be, opening one cupboard after another, until she found the old box with them in, all neatly marked by year and occasion. She thought she’d thrown out her old video player but just in case she decided to check and see if it was still in the garage. As she ran down the stairs Agnes appeared, asking if she wanted lunch, but she waved her away, heading out into the garden through the glass conservatory doors. Harry jumped up, startled, as she ran through the rear door of the garage.

‘I’m looking for the old video machine,’ she told him as she turned round. He shrugged and said that he couldn’t recall ever seeing one, but offered to move some boxes that had been left neatly stacked and stored on one side of the garage. She was determined to find it, hurling boxes aside, along with old duvets, cushions and rugs no longer wanted, muttering that they could all go to the charity shop.

‘I’ll take them away for you,’ he said, having no intention of doing so but instead planning to take them home for himself.

Lena was frantic, becoming hysterical as she threw one thing aside after another, until she let out a shriek on seeing the video recorder. Panic stricken, she asked Harry over and over if he could see the remote for it, but he was doubtful they would find it amongst the mess that was now strewn around. Suddenly she saw it and grabbed it, along with the video player, and wouldn’t let Harry carry it back to the house, insisting on taking it herself.

‘Will you need me to set it up for you, Mrs Fulford?’

‘No I can manage, thank you.’

He watched her stumble across the big garden – some of the stone steps around the fishpond were very uneven where the paths from the shrubbery led up to the house. He shut the door and looked over the mess she had left, before methodically he began to sort through the contents of the boxes, selecting what to keep for himself and what at some point he’d take to the charity shop. He had been busy for about fifteen minutes when Agnes appeared and said that Mrs Fulford did not require him for the rest of the day so he could go home. Curious, she moved further into the garage.

‘What are you doing?’

‘She wanted the old video machine, said all this junk can be thrown out.’

Agnes immediately started choosing items for herself, remarking that her daughter could do with some cushions and she’d have the duvet. Between them they began to divide up the goods, and Harry was thankful he’d already packed one box for himself. Agnes was grabbing items and putting them aside, saying they would be useful for Natalie as she didn’t have much and had recently moved into a new flat. The two of them were like scavengers, checking labels and making their selections, and never at any time did they discuss Amy. Eventually Harry suggested that perhaps Agnes should return to the house in case she was needed. Agnes was sweating with the exertion of repacking the boxes but no way was she going to let Harry have all the goods; she’d even got a nice bathroom and toilet set, plus towels and a bathrobe. He wondered how she was going to take everything home, as he knew she didn’t own a car, but by now he reckoned he’d got the best of what was on offer.

Delving into one of the tool cabinets he took out a reel of thick packing tape and began binding his boxes shut. ‘I’ll give you a few quid to take these to my daughter’s, otherwise I’ll have to get a taxi,’ Agnes offered hopefully.

Harry simply said she should pack up and he’d maybe help her out in the morning, but he was going home. He pressed the button to open the automatic garage doors. The Lexus was parked by the front door of the house so he walked along the back lane, and then drove it back to the garage to stack up his boxes. Agnes was still there on her knees inspecting some pillowcases and stuffing them into the cardboard box by her side. While he opened the boot of the Lexus and carried out his share, Agnes carried on rummaging through the remainder of the boxes, taking out some pans and dishes.

‘You’ll be needing a removal van,’ he said, packing up the Lexus.

By the time he had stacked his items and closed the boot, Agnes was finishing off the packing using the tape; she was red-faced and her hair hung in sweaty rat-tails. He remembered the watch left in his jacket and collected it. Agnes said she would call a local taxi unless he would return and help her but he pretended not to hear.

‘See you tomorrow then,’ Harry said as he used the automatic key ring to close the garage door. He then drove off; it was not unusual for him to take the Lexus home and return with it the following day – often on occasions Mrs Fulford had called him back, wanting to be taken somewhere or other, but he hoped she wouldn’t bother him today as he was intending to unpack his goods and see what he could sell on.

Lena was sitting in the TV room, and having plugged in the video player she was choosing tapes ready to begin watching the footage of Amy. Hunched on the stone-flagged floor, with the remote in her hand, she pressed play: nothing happened. With a sinking feeling she realized the remote needed new batteries. She was close to tears with frustration as she went into the kitchen to ransack drawers, knowing they always kept a selection. Frantically she tossed aside neat stacks of napkins and tea cloths until she found a box of AA batteries and returned to the TV room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Agnes had by now packed up virtually everything else, leaving only a few items that neither she nor Harry wanted. Returning to the house she saw the TV room door shut, so headed into the kitchen and stood surveying the mess. She began to methodically refold the napkins and tea cloths, restacking them into the drawer as she checked her watch – it was almost four o’clock, just another hour and she would be able to leave. The telephone rang on Mrs Fulford’s business line, but she answered it anyway and in a posh voice announced, ‘Mrs Fulford’s residence.’ It was the sales assistant from Kiddy Winks asking to speak to Mrs Fulford and so Agnes informed her she was unavailable but would pass on a message.

‘It’s Gail, and I really do need to speak to Mrs Fulford about arrangements for delivery – could you ask her to call me?’

‘Yes, Gail, I will do that.’

Agnes replaced the phone, and wrote down the time and name for Mrs Fulford to return the call. She hesitated as to whether or not she should go into the TV room but decided against it. She stood in the hallway listening, but hearing nothing she returned to the kitchen and closed the door, then rang Natalie.

‘Hello dear, I’ve got some lovely things that you will be able to use. Mrs Fulford was going to take them to a charity shop but there’s some very nice bed linen and a double duvet.’

She listened as her daughter asked if there was any news about Amy. She gave a sigh and said in a sorrowful voice that as far as she knew there was nothing.

‘Oh my goodness, that is just terrible,’ Natalie said, mimicking her mother’s tone.

‘Yes, just awful, and there’s a nice bathroom set and some pots and pans.’

‘I’ve got to go, Mum, another caller on the line.’

Agnes replaced the phone. There always seemed to be another call; she was hardly ever able to have a lengthy conversation with her daughter. Still, she reckoned, she’d be with her at the weekend, and they’d have a nice time sorting through the goods. Only now did she really think about Amy, and counted the days in her mind. Missing for almost five days – she didn’t think it was a good sign, and for the first time she seriously wondered if something terrible had happened. She knew that if it was Natalie missing she would have been in a terrible state, not shutting herself up in the TV room like Mrs Fulford – she’d have been out searching the streets.

Agnes had no conception that over forty officers were out on the streets attempting to find some clue where Amy Fulford might be. House-to-house enquiries were being conducted and the neighbours around the Fulfords’ property were all being contacted and questioned. Agnes did wonder if she would be questioned again, because when making up Mrs Fulford’s bed she had picked up the journal. She had flicked through it, not intending to read it, but catching her name on a page she couldn’t help herself. Learning exactly what the spoiled little bitch thought of her was appalling and she would have a few things to add to her statement. Fortunately she had not had the time to read more than a couple of pages because she had heard the police car drawing up. She had quickly placed the journal on the bedside table before hurrying down the stairs to open the front door.

Now, knowing that Mrs Fulford was still in the TV room, she crept up the stairs hoping to read more, but looking around the bedroom, she was unable to find the journal. She reckoned there would be another time when she would be able to have a good search around – Agnes when left alone spent considerable time looking over private papers but was always very careful to replace them in the exact same order. Returning to the kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea and sat brooding about how Amy had described her; it would be another subject she and Natalie could discuss. It never even crossed Agnes’s mind that Mrs Fulford had read what her daughter thought of her; in her opinion she was an exemplary employee and kept the big house immaculate and she firmly believed that Mrs Fulford could not manage without her.