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  ‘Mr Dunn, this is not about your previous record . . .’

  ‘Oh, jumped the gun a bit then, did I?’

  Now that his suspicions were raised, Reid asked for further details and jotted down a few notes as Harry explained that he did in fact have a long record for house burglary and had served numerous prison sentences as a youngster. When he straightened himself out he got a job as a garage mechanic and became the manager and after that had become a driver, or chauffeur as he liked to think of it. Mrs Fulford had employed him two and a half years ago, around about the same time as Agnes had begun work.

  ‘Thank you for being open with me, Mr Dunn, but I am here on a matter concerning Mr and Mrs Fulford’s daughter.’

  ‘Has she done something wrong?’ a worried-looking Harry asked.

  ‘Amy has been missing since Saturday afternoon, and as you were one of the last few people to see her I need to ask you a few questions.’

  ‘Oh my goodness me.’

  Harry was shocked about Amy, but somewhat relieved that there was no complaint against him, and that Reid was not concerned with his criminal record. He was more forthcoming about Marcus Fulford than Agnes had been and said he was a lovely bloke and very friendly, but that he had little to do with him as Mrs Fulford employed him. He said she was a really special lady and had taken him on knowing his past record and they had a good working relationship. He was unable to give any real insight into Amy Fulford, bar the fact she was a sweetheart, always polite, and seemed to him to be a very well-adjusted young woman.

  ‘I drive her sometimes to her Dad’s, but she never talks much, and unlike her mother she always sits in the back of the Lexus – Mrs Fulford always sits beside me in the passenger seat. She spends a lot of time texting, and using her iPad during the journeys. When I’ve taken her back to school on her own she hardly ever says a word to me; I just drive into the school, hand over her case and she waves me off.’

  ‘You ever overhear her talking to anyone on her mobile?’

  ‘Oh yes, she chatters away to friends, always laughing and kidding around, but then when she cuts off the call she sits back all quiet. She’s a lovely-looking young girl, but sort of old-fashioned in the way she carries herself, if you understand what I mean. I know her mother’s very strict with her, and if they are both in the car together she often talks about her business to Amy, and Amy seems very interested. They make a good team, and she’s doing this new business about party planning for young kids and often they throw ideas around – what sort of cakes or cupcakes, what games kids like nowadays.’

  ‘Do you join in their conversations?’

  ‘No. I take good care of Mrs Fulford as she gets tired out, and she never stops – here and there all over London and then into the country, meeting women who do her sewing and stuff. I drive her to the factories and then when they go to Devon I usually drive them there, leave the car and get a train home.’

  ‘How do you think this divorce is going down?’

  He shrugged, and now more relaxed, he smiled, saying he had been divorced once when he was young, but had been happily married to an older woman now for many years. He suggested married life was probably easier for someone who didn’t have anything worth fighting over.

  ‘Were Mr and Mrs Fulford fighting over it?’

  ‘Not in front of me, and I never saw him with another woman or her with a bloke she was interested in, which considering her looks, you’d think they would be queuing up.’

  Harry went on to say he had taken Mrs Fulford to a few events but not frequently as she was working all hours to get her new business off the ground.

  ‘I think she was lonely,’ he suddenly said and Reid looked up, wondering whom he was referring to, and then realized he was talking about Amy.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘She wanted a puppy, but Mr Fulford told her it was not a good idea; this would be a good few months ago – she said she wanted a King Charles Spaniel, because King Charles made a decree that that breed of dog could go anywhere because he had a whole load of them, and Amy said to me that if she had a puppy she would take it to school; she was just joking but . . .’

  Reid waited and eventually Harry gave a shrug of his shoulders. ‘It was just the way she looked – she has very expressive eyes, like her mother but different. She’s a bit young for her age, I think. Course, I said she’d never be allowed to take a puppy, King Charles or not, to school.’

  ‘She ever mention boyfriends, or did you overhear her talking to any boy?’

  ‘No, but then you know she spends a lot of time with her dad, so maybe she has one, but I never heard her mention anything like that – like I said, she’s kind of young for her age.’

  Reid closed his notebook. Harry half rose out of his seat and then sat back. ‘You think something bad has happened to her?’

  ‘I sincerely hope not.’

  ‘Christ, I hope not too; it’s something you can’t really think about – you know, happening to people that you know; I’m sure she’ll be with a friend somewhere, but that said – she’s such a lovely little thing and I just hope to God no harm has come to her.’

  ‘So do I, Mr Dunn. Thank you for your time. Oh, just one thing – this last weekend, where exactly were you?’

  ‘I was with my ex-wife’s sister, in Somerset; she was getting married again, and Mrs Fulford gave me the weekend off even though she had a dinner party to go to. I was using a hired Mercedes to drive the bride, so I wasn’t even in London.’

  Reid shook his hand, indicating he could leave. He put his notebook back into his pocket and was screwing the top of his pen back when Agnes knocked and walked in, announcing that Mr and Mrs Fulford were in the sitting room should he need them. As he passed Harry he could feel that there was not a lot of love lost between the two members of staff; Agnes, holding the door open, almost clipped Dunn’s polished brogues. Reid paused and opened his wallet, taking out two cards.

  ‘If you think of anything that might assist in tracing Amy, please call; this is my direct line and I may need to talk to you both again.’

  Lena and Marcus sat side by side on a sofa. It was obvious she had been crying as her eyes were red-rimmed and she was clutching a handkerchief. Reid walked into the room and picked up his raincoat, eager to leave.

  ‘Well, thank you both for your cooperation. Mr Fulford, I need to see Amy’s room at your place as soon as possible.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Can I meet you at your flat in, say, forty-five minutes?’

  ‘Of course,’ Marcus said, looking at his own watch as he and Lena accompanied Reid to the front door. Marcus followed him out, saying he needed a quick cigarette, and Lena watched from the doorway as the two men walked to their cars. Once Reid drove away, Lena closed the door, leaving Marcus searching his glove compartment for a lighter.

  Inside the house, Agnes was standing by the kitchen, but Lena walked past her and up the stairs. ‘Is there anything I can do, Mrs Fulford?’

  Lena glanced over the banister as she continued along the landing. ‘Just tell Mr Dunn to wait around in case I need him, and I’ll leave the business answer phone on as I don’t want to be interrupted. I’ll only answer the private line.’

  Agnes heard the bedroom door slam shut, just as Dunn rang the front doorbell. She let him in, and he wiped his feet methodically; he had finished polishing the Lexus.

  ‘What do you think is going down?’ he asked, following Agnes into the kitchen. She placed the kettle on the Aga, and fetched a mug to make him a coffee. He watched her, and then drew out a chair to sit at the kitchen table.

  ‘I hope nothing bad has happened to her,’ he said and Agnes pursed her lips.

  ‘I never had any trouble with Natalie.’

  Dunn waited for her to hand him his mug of instant coffee, hoping he was not in for a lengthy discourse about her precious Natalie, whom he had never met. Agnes opened a biscuit tin and held up a chocolate Penguin biscuit; he nodded and she threw it to him to catch.
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  ‘I’ve got to say I am surprised she would just take off,’ he said. ‘Do you think that’s what’s happened – she’s met some kid and run off with him?’

  Agnes picked up a damp cloth and began wiping down the already pristine worktops. ‘If Natalie had ever met a boy I didn’t approve of, I’d know about it, but with Amy staying here one minute and the next at her father’s flat, well I doubt either of them knows who Amy is mixing with. I tell you, I’d never have sent Natalie to a boarding school.’

  ‘I’m taking my coffee over to the garage. If she needs me, gimme a bell on the mobile,’ Harry said.

  She picked up the wrapper from his biscuit and tossed it into the pedal bin just as Marcus knocked to be let back in. Agnes breathed a heavy sigh, and went into the hall to open the front door.

  ‘Mrs Fulford is upstairs,’ she said and Marcus nodded, thanking her and heading towards the stairs himself. She could smell smoke on him and it made her instantly crave a cigarette, so she shut the kitchen door, opened a drawer and took out her mobile, a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Lighting a cigarette, she sank onto a chair and rang her daughter.

  ‘Hello darling, I hope I’m not bothering you at work, but we’ve had quite a time here – Amy is missing and the police are making enquiries.’ Natalie asked her to hang on as she was talking to a client.

  Agnes dragged on her cigarette, and let smoke drift from her snub nose, taking another drag immediately. Mrs Fulford did not approve of smoking and she rarely if ever lit up at the house, but this was an exception. She’d use the expensive Floris lilac room spray so that ‘she who required scented candles from the White Company to permeate the house to avoid any domestic smells’ would not detect her nicotine addiction. Natalie came back on the line, and Agnes repeated that Amy was missing, but before she could continue her daughter had another call to take so she hung up. She took a few more drags before running the cigarette butt under the cold-water tap, and then she wrapped it in a tissue and tossed it into the pedal bin. It was now three o’clock and she sighed, realizing she had another two hours before she could leave. Meanwhile the dual phone lines on the kitchen telephone were blinking, but she saw that it was the business line, which seemed to be ringing continuously. It was very unlike Lena not to take business calls but under the circumstances it was quite understandable that, as she had said, she was only answering calls on the private line.

  Agnes went up the stairs and along the corridor towards Lena’s bedroom; she thought that perhaps she should ask if she was required to stay on later than usual. She hovered outside the bedroom door, listening to Lena and Marcus talking but unable to make out what was being said. She hesitated and gave a light knock. Lena snatched open the door, and Agnes had to step back hurriedly.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Just to say I will be going off at the normal time but if there is anything you need from me I can stay.’

  ‘No, thank you, you can go; sorry if I sounded sharp, I am just at my wits’ end with worry.’

  ‘I understand, and I hope you’ll get some news. Having a daughter of my own I know how you must be feeling; I don’t know what I would do if it was me and Natalie was missing. So if you need anything please let me know.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Agnes.’ Lena closed the door and returned to Marcus, who was sitting on the edge of the bed; she sat beside him, curling up close.

  ‘You really should get some rest,’ he said gently, touching her arm.

  ‘I can’t, I feel like I must do something, anything that can help. I need her home, Marcus, I can’t bear this.’

  ‘I know.’

  Lena got up. ‘I’m going to check her room again. There’s got to be something . . .’ Marcus stood up; even though he wanted to go home to shower before Reid got there, he followed Lena into Amy’s bedroom.

  Lena began searching through the drawers, and then again inside the wardrobe. She looked under the bed, and inside the bedside tables – nothing. Then in an instant she saw it: the green leather journal tucked in amongst the other books on the shelf. She rushed over and pulled it out. ‘Her journal, it’s here.’

  Marcus reached for it. ‘We should call Reid back.’

  ‘Not yet,’ Lena said, stepping away and sitting down on the bed. ‘I want to look through it first.’

  Marcus moved towards her. ‘I think we should at least let him know we found it.’

  Lena looked at him, considering what he had said. ‘Yes, but we don’t want to waste his time; if there’s anything useful in here we’ll call him.’

  Marcus agreed, and sat beside her. ‘Why don’t we look at the last entry first?’ Lena started at the back and flipped through the pages.

  ‘Just some recipes,’ she said.

  ‘Well, that doesn’t help us,’ he said with a disappointed sigh as he stood up. ‘I don’t want to be late for Reid, so I’d better get going. Call me if there’s any news, and I’ll do the same.’ As he hurried out, Lena was still flicking through journal.

  Chapter 6

  Harriet Newman lived in an elegant town house off the Fulham Road. She was a very attractive tall woman with curly red hair and was wearing jeans, high-heeled knee-length boots and a cashmere sweater. Her two youngest children, who had just been returned from their junior school by the live-in nanny, were noisily having their tea in the big open-plan kitchen. The two detectives from Reid’s team, DS James Lane and DC Timothy Wey, known affectionately by his colleagues as ‘Takeaway’ because of his Chinese ancestry, were invited into a large living room that had pine wood floors, throw rugs, plush-cushioned cream sofas, and walls lined with bright paintings. The large fireplace had a gas log fire, which was lit, and above it was an enormous plasma screen television. No sooner had the two officers sat down than the two young boys came running into the living room, chasing each other.

  ‘Enough, you two, can’t you see we have guests? Now get back in the kitchen and stay there or go up to your rooms as I don’t want to be interrupted.’

  The boys went instantly quiet and shuffled out of the room as Harriet, who had a somewhat scatty manner about her, offered the detectives tea or coffee.

  ‘No thank you, Mrs Newman. We need to speak to you about Amy Fulford as she is still missing and we wondered if you noticed or sensed anything untoward when you saw her on Saturday,’ DS Lane said.

  She shook her head. ‘How awful for her poor parents. I’m happy to answer your questions but I’ve racked my brains since I last spoke to Mr Fulford and I can’t think of anything unusual about Amy that might help your investigation.’

  ‘Can you go over the course of events concerning Amy on Saturday for us please?’ DC Wey asked.

  ‘She had been given permission to have a sleepover with my daughter Serena, so I collected them both from the school at around eleven forty-five in the morning. We got back here at about one as there had been a lot of heavy traffic and then I prepared a lunch for the girls and my two boys.’

  Harriet spoke quite quickly and was about to continue when DC Wey asked her to pause a second as he needed to take notes of what she was saying. He nodded when he was ready for her to continue.

  ‘After lunch I left the girls here and took the boys to the War Museum in Chelsea with my husband. They are only five and six years old and love the playground inside the museum as well as all the uniforms on display.’

  ‘Did the girls, or Amy in particular, say what they were going to do?’ Lane asked.

  Harriet paused to think. ‘As I recall, they were going to go shopping and then see a film later in the afternoon. We were about to leave for the museum when Amy said she wanted to collect something from her father’s flat, but Serena did not want to go with her as she wanted to wash her hair. I offered to drop Amy off on the way to the museum but she said she’d make her own way.’

  ‘Did she say what she needed to collect from her father’s?’ Lane asked.

  ‘No, and regrettably I didn’t ask. Bill, that’s my husband, a
nd I got back here at about four thirty and Serena was here on her own. She said she had not heard from Amy and had called her on her mobile but it went straight to voicemail so she left a message to meet up at the Fulham Odeon for the five-thirty show. Serena thought that Amy was going to meet her at the Odeon, but she sent a text saying she couldn’t make it as something had come up at her dad’s. Serena then called some other friends who went to the pictures with her.’

  ‘Is there anything else you can think of that might help us?’ Wey asked.

  ‘Not really. I feel really awful about this and wish I could be more helpful. I had bathed the boys as, what with it being Saturday, it was their nanny’s night off. I put them to bed, and then called Serena to see if she was coming home for supper. She said they were going to have a hamburger and she’d be back at around ten. I didn’t even ask if Amy was with her, I sort of thought that she was, and then I made dinner for my husband and myself, and Serena arrived back at . . .’ She shook her head. ‘It was later than we had agreed, it was near eleven, and I was a bit tetchy with her because, you know, she is only fifteen and that was when I asked about Amy.’

  Harriet continued to explain that she was not overly concerned, because Amy had said she was going to her father’s and later sent the text that she was there, so they had presumed she had just decided to stay with him.

  ‘I didn’t think any more about it. Then on the Sunday we had a pre-arranged kids’ party that the boys were invited to. I took them there and my husband stayed in to watch something or other on the TV. Serena went shopping to find a pair of shoes, and then came back in time for Bill to collect the boys and drive Serena back to school. I think he did try and contact Amy, but there was no answer and by this time Serena was really a bit miffed about it, and the boys were being very naughty – probably over-tired after their birthday party. They saw the Legoland signs on the motorway and wanted to be taken there and then became boisterous when Bill said they couldn’t go – I think he said it was too late, too dark and they weren’t open . . .’