Twisted

Chapter 34

The next morning DI Reid was anxiously awaiting the toxicology reports on both Simon Boatly and Harry Dunn. The incident room were all aware of the possibility they might have been poisoned, but DCI Jackson, much to Reid’s relief, had not let the error over the poison mushroom recipes in the journal be known to the team. Reid had contacted the vet who had dealt with Boatly’s dog Wally and was somewhat relieved when the vet said blood tests had confirmed the dog had eaten rat poison.

There was still no sighting of Amy, and even the crude time-wasting calls had diminished to a few ‘sickos’. The mass of publicity had drawn a blank, and DCI Jackson was forced to reassess the next stage of the inquiry. The death of Boatly and Dunn was an obvious concern, but without the toxicology evidence to prove they had died from poison it was a waiting game, or, as Jackson described it, ‘a fucking unexploded time bomb’.

Jackson was in a quandary, but at least he was now taking Professor Cornwall’s diagnosis seriously, and was aware that Amy Fulford might be alive, albeit under another identity. He also had to consider that she had planted the poisons before disappearing, and had since been abducted or killed. Everyone agreed on one disheartening fact: they were probably looking for a murderer, dead or alive.

The exclusive interview Agnes had agreed to do was not as yet published and she was at work at nine as usual. She found the kitchen untidy and wine glasses in the TV room, so she set about rushing around to get everything in its habitual perfect order.

She collected the dry-cleaning shortly after eleven and returned to the house. She left the items in their plastic covers and took the jackets and trousers that belonged to Marcus, and the maroon sweater that was Lena’s, upstairs and hung the sweater in Lena’s bedroom wardrobe. She put Marcus’s things in the space where Lena had already hung his new clothes.

Agnes had just returned to the kitchen when Marcus called to say he would not be returning home for a while but was remaining at Boatly’s house in Henley. He asked about Lena and she was able to tell him that she was well and working in her office. No sooner had she replaced the phone than DI Reid rang and she put him through to Lena’s office. Agnes decided to listen in to the call in case there was something useful she could sell to the press.

‘Hello, Mrs Fulford. I’ve spoken to the television producer and they want to pre-record the interview rather than go live, and if you are agreeable will do it tomorrow morning.’

‘I look forward to it, Inspector Reid.’

‘Good. I’ll have a police car pick you up at nine a.m.’

Lena asked Deirdre to come and give her more advice on which outfit to wear. The counsellor obligingly sat herself down on the bed as Lena went to the wardrobe to pick out some clothes.

‘I have always taken care of my clothes – my mother taught me to always replace them onto hangers after wearing them, and always dry-clean cashmere; she loved cashmere, so soft against your skin, and I love that sometimes I can smell my perfume lingering; she always had a sweet lilac essence and…’

She noticed the dry-cleaned maroon sweater in its plastic cover and took it out, frowning.

‘Where did this come from?’

‘Your wardrobe,’ Deirdre said, fearing Lena was losing it.

Lena passed it to Deirdre, then took out the identical one and held it up. ‘I showed you this before, the police used it in the reconstruction, so where did the dry-cleaned one come from?’

Deirdre had a sinking feeling in her stomach as Lena was fingering the sweater and visibly becoming more and more agitated. She snatched the dry-cleaned one from Deirdre and hurried down the stairs, shouting for Agnes.

‘Where did you get it from?’ Lena’s voice was high-pitched as she held up the dry-cleaned sweater at her housekeeper.

‘From Mr Fulford’s dirty clothes he brought over from the flat, I didn’t really even look at it, I just bundled everything together that needed to be cleaned and took it to the dry-cleaners.’

‘Don’t you understand the importance of this, Agnes? If Amy was last seen wearing it then how did it get to be with Marcus’s clothes? It means she was not wearing it when she disappeared or…’ Her voice trailed off and she looked fearfully towards Deirdre.

‘She must have gone to his flat.’

‘Something has just come up,’ Reid said, barely stopping to knock on Jackson’s office door. ‘It appears the sweater we believed was worn by Amy the last time she was seen has surfaced. The Victim Support counsellor just rang to say it was in a suitcase amongst clothes Marcus Fulford took to his wife’s house. He’s staying in Henley at Boatly’s and if the sweater is Amy’s then-’

Jackson interrupted. ‘She went to the Mayfair flat, exactly as she told Serena Newman she was going to do! I want him rearrested and questioned – he has been bloody lying from day one.’

‘I agree, but let me first get the full story before we maybe jump the gun, I’m going over there now.’

‘Shit, I don’t like this – go on, move it, and get back to me ASAP.’

That same morning, Marcus and Grant had been requested to attend Boatly’s lawyers in Kensington regarding the contents of the will. They were both excited about the meeting, wondering exactly what they’d been left. By the time they arrived it was almost twelve and they were led into the prestigious offices by a dour-faced secretary who informed them that Mr Boatly’s lawyer would be with them shortly. The office had a vast polished round table, with leather carved chairs, and the walls were panelled with oil paintings of various stern-faced men who all appeared to have the surname Sutherland on polished plaques beneath their portraits. After fifteen minutes a fleshy pink-faced man in an immaculate pinstripe suit entered, carrying a large leather-bound file. He introduced himself as Alistair Sutherland and greeted them with a fleshy soft handshake, gesturing for them to be seated. He spent a considerable time sifting through the mound of documents before he laid flat the final will and testament of Simon Boatly. In his pompous aristocratic voice he explained that his firm had taken care of the Boatly family for many years. He had endeavoured to contact all the beneficiaries, which had taken a great deal of time as many were deceased or living abroad.

‘Right, gentlemen, let me proceed.’

Marcus was almost beside himself waiting to hear whether or not he was a beneficiary but he managed to remain calm and respectful. Grant kept on glancing nervously towards him; he was wondering if the bits of jewellery they had both pocketed might be included and if there would be any repercussions.

It seemed like an interminable time as Sutherland listed the beneficiaries’ names, deceased as well as living, from second and third cousins to aunts and uncles, and charities. Eventually he said that the entire estate was valued at twenty-five million. Certain specific items were to remain in the Boatly family, but the rest was to be sold to provide the lump sums allocated to the listed beneficiaries.

‘To my dearest and closest friend Marcus Fulford I leave three million pounds on the condition he divorces his wife and looks towards a career he wished to pursue during his days as my lover, but never accomplished whilst married.’

Marcus almost fainted; his heart was beating so rapidly, he had to clench the sides of the carved oak chair to stay upright. To Grant he had left twenty-five thousand, thanking him for the affection and care he had been given in their short time together. They could both could barely hear let alone take in the lengthy explanation from Sutherland as to how and when the monies would be paid to them. They couldn’t wait to get out of the stuffy office and shout out loud in the street, Marcus more so than Grant as three million was like being given a new lease on life.

Reid listened as Agnes repeated exactly how she had removed the clothes, including the ‘smelly’ maroon sweater, from Marcus’s suitcase and taken various items to the dry-cleaners.

Lena was very subdued, her head bowed, her hands clasped together. She obviously knew what the discovery meant, and yet showed no visible sign that Marcus could have been involved in any way, or that there could be a more sinister meaning. Deirdre however was very aware how high the stakes were, and knew by the way Reid acted that this was a very big development.

Shortly afterwards, a team was sent to Henley to arrest Marcus and bring him back to the station. It was almost six when the police arrived at the Old Manor to find both Marcus and Grant exceedingly drunk and celebrating. The confused and inebriated Marcus was led out in handcuffs and he passed out in the back of the patrol car; they had to support him into the police station. It was decided that until he was sober they could not question him and he was left to sleep it off in the cell.

Early the next morning Deirdre heard a scream and found Lena in the kitchen with the newspaper open, tears streaming down her face as the headline screamed out, FATHER ARRESTED FOR MURDER, and then there were numerous photographs of Amy, and the exclusive interview with the housekeeper Agnes Moors.

‘Look what that two-faced bitch has done, she has stolen private photographs and given them to the press as well as saying things about me and Amy. How dare she do this to me? My lawyers will sue her and the paper. She will live to regret this, I’ll make her sorry, she is going to pay for this!’

Lena was so enraged her whole face changed, her mouth a thin tight line, and she was virtually spitting as she swore and threatened to take a knife and cut Agnes Moors’ throat. Deirdre was quite frightened as she watched Lena pace up and down the kitchen, smashing plates and cups and anything she could lay her hands on. It was a horrible scene that went on and on, and Deirdre was worried that when Agnes made her nine o’clock arrival Lena might assault her.

Eventually, more from exhaustion than anything else, Lena quietened and began cutting out the articles with a pair of scissors and folding them up. This done, she announced she was going to her office to talk to her lawyers, but as soon as Agnes arrived she wanted to know.

Deirdre took the opportunity to call Agnes’s mobile and warn her not to come into work. The woman was in floods of tears, and claimed the journalist had twisted what she had said.

‘You have done a lot of damage, Agnes,’ Deirdre pointed out, ‘and please stay away until we have some calm here. Mrs Fulford is talking to her lawyers.’

Agnes sobbed, and again claimed that she had not said all the things in the article, but admitted she had taken the photographs from Lena’s private album.

‘Listen to me, Agnes, I don’t know what the outcome will be, I am just giving you some advice, and I think you should take it and stay away until the heat has died down here.’

‘Will I lose my job?’ came the pleading response.

‘That’s not up to me, but stay away from the house for now.’

Deirdre next thought she had better call DI Reid to explain the situation. He had only just arrived at the station, but it was buzzing, not only because of the leak of Marcus’s arrest, but also the exclusive interview with Agnes Moors. Marcus had still not been interviewed and was waiting in the cells for his solicitor Angus McFarland. It appeared he was very hung over, feeling unwell and had been sick during the morning.

Deirdre cleared up the broken china and then went to see how Lena was doing. She had locked the office door and after repeatedly knocking Deirdre eventually got a response: Lena said that she wished to be left alone.

‘Listen to me, Lena, I have spoken to DI Reid and he is going to try to come over to be here for you, and he needs to know if you still want to do the television interview.’

‘I said I would do it, and if they want me to do it, I will do it, now please leave me alone.’

Deirdre returned to the kitchen and put the scissors away, then picked up the scraps of newspaper, rolling them into a ball and tossing them into the pedal bin. The kitchen was quickly back in order, although the phone rang constantly and her head started throbbing as she wondered if perhaps she should answer the calls, but decided against it. She knew if DI Reid wanted to make contact he would call her mobile. Hoping to take her mind off the situation, she decided to read one of the many books in the floor-to-ceiling bookcase in the drawing room.

Entering the vast elegantly furnished room, with its rows of silver-framed photographs on top of the piano and on all the small side tables, she went over to the bookcase. Her eye was caught by the rows of leather-bound photograph albums, and she rested her hand against one, letting her fingers trail across the bindings until she hooked her index finger into the curved leather of one that appeared older. Opening it, she realized it was Lena’s album from when she was young and single. She flicked over the plastic covers, noting the various photographs, some in black and white, and was impressed by the neatness and the small handwritten cards denoting the place and year. She turned numerous pages until she reached the last section and was surprised to see a smiling, stunningly pretty Lena in a black university gown, wearing a mortarboard and holding a degree scroll. The note beneath it was written in black felt tip print, very small and underlined: ‘Oxford University Graduation – First-Class Honours Degree in Biological Sciences’. Deirdre had had no notion that Lena was so well educated. Turning a few more pages there were pictures of her wearing a white lab coat and with that beautiful lazy smile on her face; written in felt tip at the bottom was: ‘MSc Course, Harvard, USA’. The last page showed a serious-faced Lena standing beside a tall elderly man with a shock of white hair; he wore a crumpled tweed suit and a cravat, and beneath the picture was a caption in a different larger print: ‘Home with Daddy’.

Intrigued by uncovering Lena’s past, Deirdre reached for another album, carefully replacing the one she had looked through. She wondered if this was where Agnes had stolen the photographs for the press, and thought how disgusting it was that the woman had been so invasive and sly. Another album held many photographs of Lena and Marcus’s wedding day, and again Lena looked stunningly beautiful, dressed in a couture white wedding gown. As Deirdre turned another plastic-covered page, loose photographs tumbled out and she had to get down on her hands and knees to pick them up. Many featured the same white-haired man but now his face was scribbled over, or blacked out with felt tip pen. She laid the album down flat on the floor and reinserted the loose photographs; one she thought had to be of Lena’s mother and it was obvious where she got her good looks. She turned it over and in looped ink writing on the back was the note ‘Mama before Cancer’. A second picture showed the virtually skeletal frame of the same woman, and on the back, written in the same childish writing, was ‘Mama dying’.

Deirdre closed the albums, and had started to get up when she noticed lined up on the last shelf of the bookcase a row of larger volumes. Some were atlases and one was dotted with small coloured stickers, but not until she eased it out did she realize it was a detailed Encyclopaedia of Mushrooms.

Deirdre carried the heavy book to the sofa and set it down on the coffee table. She turned to a page marked by a small coloured tab. There were large coloured photographs of a mushroom called ‘The Deadly Amanita’, another was of a strange small domed mushroom called ‘The Destroying Angel’ and one with a flat head was described as ‘The Death Cap’.

Deirdre jumped when her mobile rang, and she patted her pockets to retrieve it. It was a very agitated DI Reid, apologizing that he doubted if he could get to her as they had a really worrying situation.

Angus McFarland, Marcus’s solicitor, had been taken to the interview room, where he demanded to know why his client had been rearrested. Jackson told him about the maroon sweater, and curtly said Marcus could quite possibly have murdered Amy in the flat, left her body there while he created an alibi by visiting Justine, and then disposed of the body on the Sunday. It had been a heated discussion and when Marcus was then brought up from the cells, he looked flushed, complained of stomach pains, and said he’d been vomiting. McFarland suggested that the police doctor be called to administer some medication for his client.

Jackson thought Marcus was trying to pull a fast one, and, eager to get started, said he’d call a doctor after the interview. He was certain he could break Fulford into confessing to murder and was going to be hard on him. Reid started the DVD recorder and cautioned Marcus. Before Jackson could ask his first question McFarland interjected.

‘My client stands by his original alibi; he is innocent and has never lied about where he was on the day his daughter went missing. As for the maroon sweater, Mr Fulford accepts beyond doubt it is his daughter’s, and that she clearly went to the flat he rented on the Saturday afternoon, but he was not there. When he packed his bags to move he gathered up the contents of the laundry bag, and without looking through it, simply dumped it in his case. Now unless you can provide any hard evidence to the contrary, or can disprove his alibi, I suggest you release my client immediately.’

Jackson frowned. ‘I’ll release him when I’m good and ready and I want to hear the answers from Fulford’s mouth, not yours, Mr McFarland.’

Marcus had started sweating profusely, which to Jackson was a sign he had lied to McFarland. The next minute Marcus leaned forward, clutching his stomach, and retched uncontrollably, before he suddenly collapsed, hitting his head against the interview-room table. He started convulsing and then seemed to hallucinate, shouting and screaming for his daughter to come home. They tried to give him first aid, called an ambulance immediately and told the crew he might be suffering from mushroom poisoning.

Deirdre hurried to Lena’s bedroom as soon as she got off the phone from an increasingly frantic Reid. The en-suite bathroom door was closed and the shower turned on. She called out for Lena, who shouted back that she was washing her hair and to please give her some privacy.

‘Lena, your husband has been taken to Kingston Hospital.’

Slowly the shower door opened and Lena, with shampoo frothed across her hair, leaned out. ‘What?’

Deirdre repeated what she’d said, and although Lena seemed to register what she had been told, there was little reaction and she simply closed the shower door and continued washing her hair.

‘Do you want me to call the hospital to see how he is?’ Deirdre asked in frustration.

‘I’ll dry my hair, get dressed and see you downstairs.’

Deirdre couldn’t believe her attitude and decided that she would call Kingston Hospital herself. She explained to the nurse in intensive care who she was.

‘He is in a very serious condition and unconscious,’ the nurse said. ‘The doctors are still treating him, so until I speak to them there is not much more I can tell you.’

Deirdre asked to be called as soon as there was more news as she was taking care of Mrs Fulford.

Reid pulled up outside the Henley property and parked beside a patrol car. Two uniformed officers were already there and they explained that there was no answer to repeated knocks on the door, and that the back door was locked. Reid, fearing for Grant’s safety, was about to break open the back door when he saw and heard a Porsche roar up the driveway. A young man got out with a panicked expression on his face, asking nervously what was happening and holding up a bag full of shopping, saying he’d been to the supermarket. Establishing that this was Mr Grant Delany, Reid suggested they went inside and Grant led them into the sitting room.

‘Marcus Fulford is seriously ill and in intensive care. We don’t know for certain yet, but it’s possible he has some kind of serious food poisoning,’ Reid explained, not wanting to unduly alarm Grant, who looked worried.

‘You’re joking; we did get a bit plastered last night, but we were celebrating because he’s been left three million quid by Simon.’ Globules of spittle formed at the sides of his mouth and he was talking very fast.

‘Can you just listen carefully please? Have you had any stomach pains, headaches, maybe feel as if you have flu-like symptoms?’

‘No, I’m fine, but you are starting to freak me out. I am a vegan so whatever I eat I prepare for myself.’

‘Can you recall exactly what Mr Fulford ate?’

‘He had a steak the night before last, but you lot turned up and arrested him before we ate properly yesterday. Earlier on we drove to London, met with Simon’s solicitors to discuss his will and Marcus had a beef burger and I had a veggie one on the way back here.’

‘And he wasn’t ill at all after the beef burger?’

‘No, and we started drinking when we got back. I mean he was ecstatic – three million quid. I got twenty-five grand, but then I’d only known Simon for a matter of months.’

Grant seemed unable to stop talking and Reid in irritation stood up, walking around the room, picking up one bottle after another.

‘What did you both drink?’

‘Dom Perignon champagne and red wine I got from the cellar. Well I sort of drank most of the bubbly as I don’t really like red wine, but Marcus opened a couple of bottles before he went on to the brandy,’ Grant said and pointed to the dusty bottle.

Reid saw that it was a vintage Napoleon in an elegant carved bottle, with just a small residue left in the bottom.

‘That’s a very expensive brandy – hundreds of quid – I brought it back from Simon’s place in Green Street.’

‘Was it open?’

‘Yeah, and about a quarter full. Simon loved his brandy, not that he told me to bring it back from his flat, I just did because I know he favoured the aged stuff and we didn’t have any in the cellar.’

‘Did Simon consume any of this?’

‘Not really – he wasn’t well so wasn’t drinking.’

‘What do you mean, not really?’

‘Well, I put a little splash in when I made him a hot toddy.’

Reid suspected that Amy must have put the poison in the brandy hoping her father would drink it at the flat, but as fate would have it the bottle ended up back at Boatly’s and both he and Marcus unwittingly drank from it.

‘Did you have any of the brandy?’

‘No way, can’t stand the stuff.’

‘Do you know how much of it Marcus had?’

Grant thought for a moment and said that as far as he recalled he maybe had one or two large ones before he got arrested. Reid asked to see the room Marcus was using and followed Grant up the wide staircase and into the master bedroom. There were piles of clothing in different sizes on the floor and bed.

‘You both sleep in here?’

His face flushed. ‘Er, yeah, but only the one night.’

On the floor were a jumble of discarded old-fashioned leather jewel boxes embossed with a monogrammed faded gold crown. Grant saw the way Reid looked at the cases and started to pick them up.

‘Simon’s lawyers mentioned the jewellery they would be collecting, but most of these were empty. That big one must have one time had a tiara or something inside – you can see the indentation on the old velvet.’

‘Where’s the jewellery from the boxes that weren’t empty then?’

‘Oh, uh, I’ve got it hidden away for the solicitors. I didn’t want a break-in and for it to be stolen.’

‘Very thoughtful of you,’ Reid said sarcastically. ‘This box you think a tiara was in…’

‘Well I’m not sure – it’s just the indentations made me think that.’

‘If it had been removed ages ago I’d have thought the indentations would be less pronounced.’

‘I swear I haven’t got it and Marcus was with me when we opened the boxes.’

‘Well let’s hope he comes round and can confirm that’s correct.’

Reid was certain Grant was lying and, along with Marcus, had probably helped himself to the contents of the empty boxes, but he had more pressing things to deal with. He instructed Grant to check the freezer for any opened bags or plastic cartons of food, not to eat from them and to put them to one side. Reid also told him to put aside any other bottles of opened drink he found and he would arrange for their collection later. Lastly he said he was taking the bottle of Napoleon brandy for forensics. Grant picked up on what Reid had just said.

‘Wait a minute, you think he was deliberately poisoned and it was in the brandy bottle. Oh my God, I gave it to Simon in the toddy and it must have killed him… oh my God.’

‘You didn’t know, and it wasn’t enough to kill him, Grant. The pathologist said he died of AIDS-related pneumonia.’

But Grant was in tears and could barely take in what Reid was saying when the detective asked him for a set of keys to the flat so he could search it for any other contaminated fluids.

Deirdre was in the kitchen when she received a call from Miss Jordan, who agreed that after her last appointment in the afternoon she would come to see Lena. Suddenly she heard Lena’s voice from behind. Deirdre was taken aback to see that the woman’s hair was brushed to perfection and gleaming, she was perfectly made up and wearing the clothes she had chosen for the interview. As Lena crossed the kitchen her perfect legs, slim ankles and stiletto shoes made her look as if she was modelling on a catwalk.

‘Have you heard from the producer or whoever is arranging the interview?’ she demanded.

‘No, but I did call the hospital and Mr Fulford is not well and on the intensive care ward, so maybe you should go and see him.’

‘He walked out on me when I really needed him to be here. I think it would be more beneficial if I do this television interview. I have prepared what I am going to say, because my priority is and always has been trying to find Amy. How do I look, by the way?’

‘Very elegant.’

Again she gave that smile, and then sighed as she drew out a kitchen chair for herself and sat down.

‘My mother was always perfectly dressed; she was adored by my father, but he found her lack of interest in anything other than her designer clothes and beauty treatments irritating,’ she said confidingly. ‘He was such a brilliant and intelligent man, but when she became ill his patience with her evaporated and he could hardly face her. She had breast cancer, and it spread to her lungs and eventually her brain. Her last months were pain-racked until the morphine injections, but then she didn’t eat, and just lay in bed slowly fading away. I was taught at home by Daddy as he needed me to look after her; he was a well-educated University man and the most vibrant and inspiring tutor, also well-travelled and he spoke numerous languages.’ She flicked back her glossy hair.

‘Did you go to University?’ Deirdre asked rather lamely.

‘Oh yes, Oxford just like Daddy, and I got a scholarship to study for a Master’s Degree in America, but I never felt very happy there.’

‘Why was that?’

‘I missed Marcus so much, and we were very much in love. He was very understanding about me going to Harvard and said we’d get married when I finished there. Daddy was very disappointed when I insisted we come back to England.’

‘Oh, so your father was in America with you?’

She laughed and said that he was never far away from her, and made another expansive gesture with her hand. ‘I had a few issues, health-wise, you know, the normal teenager and young women things, like depression and deep sadness.’ She suddenly laughed before continuing. ‘I think Daddy knew from the beginning Marcus was bisexual, but I didn’t even consider it, even though his so-called close friend Simon Boatly obviously was, as they were always together.’

Deirdre was trying to ascertain exactly where it was all leading. It was her job to help bereaved or anxious families, but this situation was totally unexpected because Lena appeared to be enjoying her disclosures, talking about her husband with obvious affection, even accepting his sexual inadequacies.

Lena pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘Why was that sweater in his stinking flat? I have had the humiliation of being told he had whores there; he hardly ever had sex with me, but he had whores and my daughter was forced to watch him screwing them. That disgusting animal Simon has always been like a predatory leech, dangling his body and wealth, enticing Marcus away from me. I wanted to show him just how pitiful Simon was and that he even came on to me in that hideous flat of his.’

She was becoming very agitated, curling a strand of hair around her finger, then pulling at it as if wanting to drag it out by the roots. She suddenly started to gasp for breath, her chest heaving.

‘LENA, stop this now, just take deep breaths, try and slow down…’

Deirdre began opening drawers, searching for a bag for Lena to breathe into, but she couldn’t find one. Lena’s face was now shining with sweat and then she slumped onto the floor.

‘Oh my God, oh my God.’ Deirdre knelt down beside her, reaching round to support her head. Eventually the awful gasping sounds quietened and slowly her breathing returned to normal.

‘I am so sorry, so sorry,’ she whispered.

Reid took the brandy bottle straight to the forensic lab, and whilst he was there he was given the toxicology reports on Harry Dunn and Simon Boatly. Much to Reid’s relief, Boatly’s primary cause of death was HIV/AIDS, though he did have traces of mushroom poison in his body, not enough to kill him outright, but enough to exacerbate his respiratory problems, and effectively speed up his death. The toxicologist had found ingested traces of a mushroom called ‘Ink Cap’, which if eaten in isolation would have no ill effects, but if alcohol was consumed with it, or even many hours after, a reaction would set in.

Reid was stunned, and he now felt certain that Marcus Fulford was suffering from the same poison. He knew it was imperative that all the ‘enemies’ in Amy’s journal were contacted again and warned of the dangers so they could check not only for food but open bottles of wine or other alcohol that could possibly have been contaminated.

Marcus remained unconscious as his condition continued to deteriorate, while DCI Jackson waited at the hospital in the hope he would regain consciousness and be able to answer questions. Doctors had begun to frantically run tests. Specialists were called in and were discussing what if anything could be administered to halt further organ failure. The seriousness of his condition was causing increasing alarm as his liver was now damaged, and it was suggested they begin a revolutionary medical technique involving an artificial liver machine, which could potentially remove the toxins by filtering his blood through charcoal granules. However, by now his heart was affected and his lungs were collapsing. The medical staff was informed that the usual standard procedure would have been to pump his stomach to remove the toxins, but Marcus had vomited almost as soon as he had been admitted and was again retching and sick the following morning. The most unnerving fact was that with all the new modern science there was no antidote as yet discovered.