Twisted (44 page)

Lena drew the bedroom curtains and then sat waiting, certain that it was bad news. Eventually Marcus came back up.

‘They’ve not found her. Reid just called. Apparently there was a press conference, in the hope of getting an update – by that I mean they are hoping it will help trace Amy.’

‘Let’s hope so.’

‘I’m not letting the bastards in though. Don’t answer the phone, we don’t talk to anyone, do you understand?’

‘NO, I don’t,’ she said shrilly.

‘Detective Reid said he would get officers back over here.’

Marcus went round the house, drawing the curtains, and could see that by now there were even more journalists outside the gates. He thanked God he had padlocked them so they couldn’t get in, but it meant they couldn’t get out.

En route to the station Reid received a call from the handwriting expert who had been examining the journal.

‘Due to the many different styles I can’t say for definite who exactly wrote the entries in the journal. There is much variation in the handwriting so it’s possible more than one person wrote in the journal.’

‘Amy has DID, it’s a multiple personality disorder, so that may be the reason for the different writing.’

‘That would explain it. I’ve never seen it myself, but I have read an expert forensic article on the subject where the subject’s different personalities made the entries in different handwriting styles. I would say though that some bits of the journal were similar to Amy’s handwriting on the diaries and cards.’

‘Well thanks for looking at the journal . . .’

‘Actually there is something about the entries at the back of the journal that is quite worrying.’

‘As I recall it was just a bunch of recipes and the handwriting looked the same,’ a bemused Reid said.

‘It is the same, but not Amy’s, and every recipe was for some form of meal containing either poisonous, deadly or hallucinogenic mushrooms and some appeared to be for specific people who had upset the writer.’

Back at the station Reid gave Jackson a rundown on the entries in the journal and schoolbooks which mentioned the poisonous mushrooms. At first Jackson laughed dismissively until Reid told him about his conversation with the handwriting expert and Simon Boatly’s sudden death. Immediately Jackson’s attitude changed as he demanded a full forensic post mortem on Boatly’s body and that everyone in the journal must be told to check every bit of food in their house. Anything suspicious was to be collected by forensics officers and examined for traces of poison.

Reid was almost enjoying seeing Jackson squirm and actually take notice of what he had to say for once, but the moment was short-lived.

Jackson flicked through all the pages of his photocopy of the journal. ‘There’s no mushroom recipes in the copy you gave me, DI Reid?’

‘I hadn’t realized the importance of them at the time, sir. I thought it was just maybe something to do with Amy Fulford’s cookery classes.’

Jackson smirked. ‘Like you thought the mention of mushrooms in the journal were to do with her biology classes?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Reid replied nervously.

‘If you’d bothered to read the bloody thing properly in the first place you’d have seen all the poisonous recipes at the back, wouldn’t you?’

Reid nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘You failed to inform me of the existence of the journal when I took over this investigation. You also failed to give me a full copy of the journal, and had I had one I would have spotted what you so clearly missed.’

Reid doubted Jackson’s assertion, but had no choice other than to eat humble pie. ‘I’m sure you would have, sir, and I’m sorry if I’ve let you and the team down.’

‘You’ve let yourself and the police service down, but much more serious is that you may have let a dead man down!’ Jackson said forcefully.

‘Sorry, sir, I don’t see what you mean.’

‘It’s now Thursday and you’ve had the journal in your possession since Monday when you met with Simon Boatly and he was still alive. He dies four days later and it if it turns out to be from mushroom-poisoning you may have committed a most heinous error of judgement. Do you see what I mean now?’

Reid felt as if his legs were going to give way. He knew he’d made a big mistake, but to be so harshly accused of neglect and inadvertently causing the death of Simon Boatly was shattering. There was nothing he could say as he knew he was in the wrong. He expected to be suspended from duty there and then.

‘I’ll keep this between us for now,’ Jackson said menacingly, ‘but let’s hope to God no one else in the journal has unwittingly eaten anything with poisonous mushrooms in it. Your career is on the line at the moment, DI Reid, and it hangs on how this Boatly died. Now get out there with a roll of bin bags, visit every person in that fucking journal. Warn them to be vigilant and clear out their fridges and freezers.’

Reid felt totally humiliated and couldn’t believe he’d made such a monumental fuck-up. However, Jackson seemed to be giving him another chance, though he wondered if as the lead investigator the DCI could be in trouble as well. Reid knew he had one last chance to redeem himself and didn’t dare mention the fact Serena Newman was sick, but decided her family would be his first port of call before revisiting the Fulfords.

Standing outside the Newmans’ house, Reid’s anxiety continued to mount and his hand was shaking as he rang the doorbell. He was praying that Serena had recovered and was dreading the possibility she’d been taken to hospital in a serious condition, or worse still was dead.

So he couldn’t help but let out a gasp of relief when Serena, who looked far from sickly, opened the door. ‘You don’t know how absolutely fantastic it is to see you looking so well, Serena. Are you fully recovered from your tummy bug?’ he asked with enthusiasm.

Serena looked at him as if he was nuts as she invited him in, shouting for her mother, who came down the stairs. Serena explained who he was.

‘Good evening. I’m sorry to disturb you and your family, Mrs Newman, but I wonder if I could just have a quick chat with you, your husband and Serena,’ he said, as always being very diplomatic.

‘My husband’s still at work. Have you found Amy?’

‘No, but I do need to talk to you about something that is of urgent concern.’

Harriet Newman gave a nod of her head and gestured for him to go ahead of her into the drawing room. Mother and daughter sat side by side on the sofa as Reid asked that the conversation they were about to have remained confidential for the sake of the investigation. Mrs Newman agreed, as did Serena, but Reid had no doubt she’d be on the phone to her school friends as soon as he was out of the door. Without going into detail, he explained that Amy was psychologically a very ill girl and in many ways not responsible for her actions. Mrs Newman got the gist of what he was saying, but Serena sat with her mouth wide open, not having a clue what Reid was implying. He then got straight to the point and expressed his concerns that they might unknowingly have food poisoned by Amy on the premises.

Harriet was up like a shot. She ran through to the kitchen and started rummaging through her enormous, state-of-the-art fridge freezer. Reid followed her and pulled a black bin bag from his pocket as Serena joined them.

‘If there is anything suspicious I need to take it for forensics,’ he said, opening the bin bag.

‘Amy never did any cooking while she was here. I never precook meals or keep leftovers as I don’t believe in reheating cold food,’ Mrs Newman said, going through the fridge and checking every item.

Reid asked if anyone else in the house had been ill and Mrs Newman replied that they were all well and their GP had confirmed Serena had had a virus. Examining the items in the freezer one by one, she said that there was nothing that she couldn’t account for or that would have been there since the Saturday Amy disappeared. All at once there was a loud scream and yells from upstairs. Hurriedly setting down the frozen meals on the counter top, Mrs Newman explained the nanny had a night off and she would have to go and settle down her two boys, who were having a bath. As she left the kitchen, wiping her hands, he thanked her for her time and said he’d be on his way. As he moved towards the door Serena suddenly spoke in a low voice.

‘She was over-friendly with Miss Polka, you know, and I think they had a thing going on.’

Reid, knowing the truth, acted surprised. ‘Really? What makes you say that?’

‘Amy used to visit her on Sundays when she came back to school, and it created quite a lot of jealousy because we all liked Miss Polka.’

‘But are you saying that Amy was in some kind of relationship with her?’

‘One time she became really nasty because we’d suspected that there was something going on and they were lesbians but she denied it.’

‘Did she threaten you when you asked her about it?’

Serena nodded and leaned closer to him again. ‘She said she would cause trouble for anyone who gossiped about it.’

‘You don’t like her, do you?’ he asked quietly, and was surprised by her vehement reaction.

‘Nobody did, and I am really very sorry for what has happened, but she was very difficult to get to know, best at everything, first in everything, and what was so annoying was she never even seemed to have to swot up. She was little Miss Perfect, but I think the truth will come out.’

‘What do you think the truth is, Serena?’

‘That she wasn’t perfect at all. That she was liar and a showoff. If you ever said anything against her it was treated as jealousy, just because . . .’

He finished the sentence for her. ‘Amy was exceptionally beautiful.’

Yet again Serena’s reaction surprised him. Her eyes welled with tears and she nodded. ‘Yes, maybe that was the problem for all of us, because she was, and I can’t sleep for thinking about what might have happened to her.’

‘Did you say the nasty things about Amy on Facebook?’

‘Yes and a couple of the other girls in my year did as well. I really regret it now, but like I said I wasn’t the only one.’

As Mrs Newman returned, Serena hurried from the kitchen, saying she was going to her bedroom.

‘Poor thing, she’s really been very upset,’ Harriet said.

‘It’s affected a lot of people,’ Reid observed as Mrs Newman walked him to the front door.

‘We do take this food thing very seriously, and thank you for coming to see us about it, I really appreciate it. It’s hard to live with the fact we were the last people to ever see Amy and she was such a lovely girl.’

He disliked the fact she used the past tense, and he would have liked to tell her that Serena might indirectly have had something to do with Amy’s disappearance by writing some of the vicious diatribe on her so-called friend’s Facebook page.

Harriet was about to open the front door for Reid when a key turned in the outside lock and her husband Bill walked in. There was a look of displeasure on his face as he wondered who on earth Reid was.

‘Don’t worry, that’s Bill’s possessive look, Detective Inspector Reid,’ she said somewhat sarcastically and her husband frowned.

‘Is it about Amy Fulford again?’ he asked.

‘Yes, sir, your wife’s been very helpful.’

‘Shame about her mental problems.’

Reid was taken aback. ‘Can I ask what you mean by that remark, Mr Newman?’

He pulled the
Evening Standard
out of his pocket, unfolded it and held up the front-page headline for Reid to see:
MISSING TEENAGER SUSPECTED OF MULTIPLE PERSONALITY DISORDER
.

Chapter 32

O
n the way back to the station Reid used the hands-free phone and ordered that two uniform officers be assigned to the Fulfords’ house to keep the journalists back from the property. He then rang the Fulfords and was as conciliatory as possible on the phone to Marcus, explaining why DCI Jackson had told the press about Amy’s personality disorder. He had to lie, claiming it was as a result of having no further development in tracing their daughter. The truth was, he felt appalled by the way DCI Jackson had called the press conference without forewarning and protecting the Fulfords.

The aftermath was explosive, not just from the intrusiveness of the press but also the television coverage that now became a daily matter of interest. Interviews with Professor Cornwall were on most channels as he explained the diagnosis; this then spiralled into further interviews with people who suffered from DID. Breakfast television, the morning shows and news bulletins all repeatedly showed photographs of Amy, and then there was the day when the CCTV footage of her in her school uniform purportedly approaching a man for sex created further excitement. It was relentless and the police were inundated with possible sightings. Every call had to be traced and verified and checked out; Jackson had brought in more clerical staff to deal with the barrage of calls.

Lena and Marcus felt marooned in the house. The gates were kept locked and there were so many reporters and photographers positioned outside from morning to night that they couldn’t go outside without facing a battery of questions. Both had refused to give interviews and the pressure on them was appalling. They had resorted to ordering food deliveries to the house and a uniformed officer would accept them at the gates. Reid had arranged for a civilian worker from the independent Victim Support charity to be with them as a quiet and calming presence in the house. The uniformed officers were on duty twenty-four seven, switching over shifts every eight hours.

Agnes had her own key to the padlock and she arrived promptly every morning at nine, and although she was harassed and questioned by the journalists, she always refused to answer any of their questions. Even so she was taken aback when they gained access to her mobile phone number, yet again requesting an exclusive interview, only now they offered money.

Agnes’s daughter Natalie was ringing her mother regularly, eager to know what was going on. Agnes whispered that a journalist had offered five, then ten thousand pounds for an interview, but she had refused because she had signed a confidentiality contract with Lena when she was first employed. Natalie could sense the confidentiality clause irritated her mother and told her that she should hold out for as much as possible, and that the contract was meaningless.