All at once she reverted to a hideous snarl as she grimaced that she had discovered that Boatly was homosexual, and had been in a relationship with her husband. She went into a tirade of bitter hatred against Boatly and how she had been envious of their closeness. She had forced herself to be friendly towards Simon, flirted and been eager to make Marcus jealous, but he only pretended to like her and was determined to break them up and have Marcus for himself. She was sitting up on the couch and wagging her index finger in anger, and her voice was high-pitched. ‘I knew then, I knew I had to watch him, that he was trying to get Marcus to leave me, and Amy was behaving like a silly bitch, all hissy and moody; it felt as if all three were against me.’
She flopped back and he was stunned when the low voice whispered, ‘I knew he had to go, but it was a question of when and how.’
This time Reid was in the viewing room alone, as Jackson could no longer be bothered to be present. Hour upon hour he had religiously sat listening and taking notes. He had even got used to hearing all the different voices and characters that Lena would become. It fascinated him to begin with, but now it was often quite tedious, as Cornwall never put any pressure on her. But at last she had now admitted what she intended when she had said of Simon Boatly, ‘He had to go.’
Reid was shocked at the change in Lena’s physical appearance; her hair was clipped back in an unflattering way, she had lost weight and looked pale and drawn. She wore woollen socks as she kept on losing her slippers, which added to her looking older and mentally unstable. Sometimes she was eager to talk, other times her voice was slurred and she seemed to find it difficult to concentrate, often repeating herself over and over, or asking for a question to be repeated as she had forgotten what Cornwall asked.
Cornwall slowly drew from her the details of her enemies. He was able to pinpoint the time when she had begun to have severe lapses of control, which came after Marcus and Lena separated. She was repulsed by her driver, who she claimed touched her in an inappropriate manner, making her feel inadequate and incapable of being able to sack him. This was exacerbated by the suspicions that Agnes and he were in cahoots and passing information to Marcus about her business. Lena’s paranoia had been moving towards a psychotic breakdown, and with Amy spending alternate weekends with Marcus, she felt that everyone was against her. As she grew increasingly incapable of dealing with the pressure, the underlying but as yet controlled DID began to take over her rational thinking. Lena was able to concentrate on her business, and even display successful financial acumen, but after the meeting with the divorce lawyers, her most controlling identity, known as alter three or the Boss, began to dominate and coordinate the means of getting rid of her enemies. By now she was deeply concerned about Amy’s relationship with her art teacher Miss Polka, as her daughter had at some point implied that she cared for her deeply, and this was yet another sign that she was even losing her daughter’s love. She had also seen the abuse directed at Amy on the web, which intimated she was having a lesbian affair with an older woman. Although she had no idea who was responsible, in her mind – by chance correctly – it had to be the nasty little Serena who was responsible and had to pay. For being unkind to Amy.
The Boss took over the story, slyly describing how she knew Amy had put a spare set of Marcus’s flat keys in her kitchen drawer. She related how she had stolen into the flat many times when she knew they were out, and it was most hideous to listen to her explaining how she had used a little poison to make Amy feel unwell. Sometimes she placed a few drops in a half-drunk Coke bottle already in Amy’s room, or in a meal eaten before going to her father’s flat.
Cornwall gently prodded and queried how she had intended removing her ‘enemies’, and a previously unheard voice started to dominate the session. It was a clear, well-spoken, mature voice that often employed Latin terms. She seemed very calm and poised, using her hands very expressively, as if explaining what she was saying to someone unseen with great confidence, as if showing off.
‘I worked hard to come to the best conclusions as to exactly how I should realize my theories. I thought that my optimum choice was the Common Inkcap, Coprinus atramentarius, as if it is eaten in isolation it can have no ill effect, however if alcohol is consumed, a reaction will set in, even if it is taken many hours after a meal. Testing it out on my father, along with the hallucinogenic mushrooms, made the decision for me very simple, however the academic science laboratory was not available. Ergo I was thus forced to grow, and cross-fertilize, the fungi in the garden and basement. I have conducted considerable research into the Death Cap mushroom and was fully aware this would cause severe liver damage. I also had to think of alternative measures, as it was imperative I was not implicated, the reasons being obvious. It had to be very cleverly administered, so I could remain undetected and ostensibly innocent, therefore I chose the slow release method as the most suitable for my desired intentions.’
Lena was sitting up with her back straight, and it seemed as if she was giving some kind of lecture. She began detailing in the same cultured voice the gastric poisons she had studied and tested in a laboratory while working in America. She was very clear about nerve poisons, especially the type that would create hallucinogenic behaviour, resulting in convulsions, irregular breathing, and often death due to heart failure. There were two types of toxins, muscarine and ibotenic acid, she found to be excellent. Her hands gesticulated gracefully as she described testing out the components to make the final decision of which exact combination she would administer.
‘When you had decided this, exactly how did you go about administering it to the chosen enemies?’ Cornwall asked in a relaxed manner.
In the viewing room Reid sat on the edge of his seat, listening and watching as Lena gave a long sigh, pursed her lips and wafted her hand in a dismissive gesture.
‘Oh it wasn’t easy, you know. My problem with Simon Boatly was how and when to get into his house at Henley to administer it. When Marcus said he had to move out from the Green Street flat and asked me to get his clothes it created the perfect opportunity, as I thought, wrongly as it turned out, that Simon was moving back in. When I went to collect the suitcases for Marcus I already knew there was an expensive brandy there from my other secret visits. I knew Simon liked expensive brandy so I decided to inject a few drops into it using a large hypodermic needle. A stroke of genius, don’t you think? Tinged with a bit of good and bad luck though.’
‘What do you mean?’ Cornwall asked softly.
Even her soft laugh was cultured. ‘That poor young man Grant I met at the flat. He had no idea he was taking poisoned brandy back to Henley.’ She spread out her hands as if seeking words of approval from Cornwall.
‘But Grant could have died, and Marcus died because he drank the brandy.’
‘Then Grant would have been my mistake, but my plan worked because Simon did die. As for Marcus, well that was bad luck for him at the time, but looking back he deserved it as it was obvious he was abusing her.’
‘Do you believe that Marcus had something to do with Amy’s disappearance?’
Her face twisted in anger. ‘I refuse to discuss it because it is too painful for me to even consider. The Furies came to me in continued nightmares and made me what I am.’
‘Who are the Furies?’ Cornwall asked.
‘The three avenging goddesses of Greek mythology – they torment me because I have subverted the natural order. I killed my parents, and the punishment inflicted on me by the snake-draped Furies is the madness that constantly persecutes and controls me.’