Sugar & Spice (33 page)

155

Simmons leaned forward earnestly. “I bet you haven’t really. You’re just
making it up.”
“We have so,” Natalie declared indignantly.
“When?”
“When we were little Daddy used to get in the bath with us.”
“What, with no clothes on?”
The girls laughed. “Of course, silly. You can’t have a bath with your clothes
on.”
“You said when you were little. Doesn’t he get in the bath with you now?”
“Not any more. He stopped.”
“He stopped? Why was that?”
“Because we were getting too big. There 't room for all of us.”
“I see. Is that the real reason?”
The girls looked confused. Simmons thought Natalie looked anxious.
“Is that the only reason daddy does not get in the bath with you anymore?”
The girls fell quiet. Simmons moved in for the kill.
“Or was there something that happened, that made him stop. You can tell me,
girls. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
There was a long pause. Natalie looked at Tamara anxiously. Tamara fought back a
smile.
“Well, there was one thing,” Tamara said slowly.
“Tamara, no!” Natalie tried to lean over and hit out at her sister. “You
promised you wouldn’t tell anyone.”
Simmons separated them. She cast a triumphant glance at the mirror. Behind the
glass Bamford mentally reached for her purse. She checked the camera light to
make sure it was recording. An admission from the child in the first ten
minutes! It would be gin and tonics all round when the team met up after work.
Simmons spoke in soothing tones. “You can tell me, Tamara. What happened?”
Natalie was almost in tears. “No, Tamara! It’s a secret!”
Tamara looked at her sister’s angry face, then at Simmons, earnest eyes waiting
for the revelation.
“I’ll tell Daddy if you say anything, Tamara.”
“I’m sure Daddy won’t mind, Natalie. Was it Daddy who told you not to tell
anyone?”
Tamara nodded. “He said it was our special secret. Just us.”
Behind the glass Bamford was on tenterhooks.
Simmons was thinking fast. “Daddy won’t mind if you tell me, though, surely?
We’re all girls together. It will be our little secret too.”
“Tamara, if you tell her I won’t be your friend ever again. Even tomorrow.”
Simmons lifted Natalie on to her lap. “Girls, girls, please. You’re sisters.
You should be friends. We should all be friends. And friends don’t have secrets
from one another. Isn’t that right, Tamara?”
Natalie gave a her a warning glare.
“Anyway, you share the secret with your daddy.”
“And Mummy.”
“And Mummy?” Simmons glanced at the mirror to register her disgust. The
mother knew! “What does Mummy say about it? Tamara?”
“She says it’s disgusting.”
Natalie squirmed. “Tamara!”
“Well it is disgusting,” Tamara said. “I would never do it.”
Simmons was having to think fast. Parental collusion made things that much more
serious. “So who’s going to tell me?”
There were no volunteers. Natalie was clearly the dominant twin on this
occasion.
“How about if we have some sweeties? You must be hungry by now.” Simmons
knew the girls had missed out on lunch. She reached into her bag and pulled out
a packet. “Who likes fruit pastilles?”
The girls eyed the sugary sweets enviously.
Simmons sensed victory was within her grasp. “Mmmm, I love the green ones.
What colours are your favourites?”
“I like the red ones the best,” said Natalie.
“But black ones are the best too,” said Tamara.
“I’ve only got one packet though,” Simmons said thoughtfully. “Now, what
can I do?”
“We can share them, silly.”
“Only friends share things. I thought you two were arguing.”
Their eyes never let the sweets. “We’re not now. We’re friends again.”
“What about me? Am I your friend as well?”
The girls looked at each other, then at the sweets, then at Simmons. Tamara
nodded reluctantly.
“Thank you, Tamara. Am I your friend too, Natalie?”
Natalie watched as Simmons broke the pack in half and gave a section to Tamara.
“I suppose so.”
Simmons gave Natalie the other half and hugged her. “Now don’t forget, friends
don’t keep secrets from one another, do they?”
“But it’s embarrassing.”
“There’s no need to be embarrassed, Natalie. It’s not your fault. You’re not
to blame. When does it happen? At bath time? You can tell me.”
Tamara ggled. “Always at bath time.”
“Tamara!” Natalie objected through a mouthful of chewed pastilles.
“We may as well tell her, Natalie. She did give us some sweets.”
Natalie considered. “Okay, but you say it. I don’t want to.”
Tamara stuffed more sweets in her mouth. “It’s you that does it. You say.”
Natalie shook her head.
“Come on, Natalie. Just whisper it if you don’t want to say it out loud.”
Simmons bent her head to one side to encourage her.
“Promise you won’t be cross?”
“Of course not. I’ve an idea, why not pretend you’re just telling yourself.
Go over to that mirror and just tell yourself. Then it won’t be embarrassing for
you. Just tell the mirror why Daddy stopped getting in the water with you
anymore.”
Behind the glass Bamford acknowledged the masterstroke with a smile.
An admission direct to camera.
Perfect!
Natalie finished her pastilles and walked across towards the mirror.
On the other side of the glass Bamford was on the edge of her seat.
“Okay, Natalie. Tell the mirror what happens at bath-time that is so, so
disgusting.”
In a loud whisper, her features guilt-ridden, Natalie said, “I wee in the
bath.”

156

“Interview resumed, 1402 hours. Present as before, plus Mr. Jeremy Isaac in
his capacity as legal representative for the suspect. Greg, we want to ask you
again about your activities in Woolwich on December first.”
Randall looked to Isaac. Isaac nodded. He had assured Randall he would jump in
and stop the interview at any time if the police exceeded their remit.
“So, what was the purpose of your visit exactly?”
“Visiting a clinic, as you well know.”
“This has already been established,” Isaac cut it. “Are you intending on
repeating the same questions over again, Sergeant.”
Lovett ignored him. “What time did you leave home?”
“About half six.”
“Half six?” Lovett sounded incredulous.
“It’s a long journey. I had to get a bus to the station, change trains twice,
then -”
“Hold on. You went by train?”
“You expect me to walk to London?”
“You didn’t drive.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t drive?”
“Sergeant, I wasn’t aware my client is facing some obscure charge under the
Road Traffic Act.”
Pitman and Lovett exchanged glances.
“Mr Randall, are you telling us you’ve never passed your driving test?”
“Inspector, is this relevant?”
“There was a car on Mr Randall’s drive. Our officers searched it.”
“It’s Bethan’s.”
“And she needed it to take the children to school, so you went to Woolwich by
train,” Lovett suggested.
“Sergeant, I think Mr Randall has already made clear he does not drive.”
“Why not?”
“I hardly think that’s pertinent, Sergeant.”
“It’s okay, Jeremy. If it will help get me out of here sooner. We were newly
wed, a pregnant wife and a new mortgage. Money was tight. We could only afford
driving lessons for one of us, and Bethan would need a car more than me, what
with three babies on the way.”
“Three? I thought you had twins.”
Randall’s face saddened. “Cot death. Terri was three months old. They were
triplets, you see. When we found out we were going to have three girls we
thought they’d be quite an explosive combination, so we named them Terri,
Natalie and Tamara.” He smiled. “T-N-T. That’s why we call them the Dynamite
Twins. They’re everything to me. Everything.”
Pitman watched the moving statement by Randall with mixed feelings. The
affection seemed genuine, but how many times had he seen perfect acting from
heinous criminals? He recalled Dr. Reynolds’ explanation of the twins’
nickname at the Social Services Case Conference. Obnoxious wman.
“Mr. Randall, do you have the train tickets? A receipt? The credit card slip,
perhaps?”
“I paid cash.”
“How convenient.”
“I didn’t want Bethan finding out. She doesn’t know. That is, she didn’t.
Until this morning. What have you told her?”
“Very little so far,” Pitman said. “Just about what was found at your
home. But let me get this absolutely straight, Mr Randall. You not only did not
drive on this day, but you have never passed your driving test. Is that
correct?”
“My client has already made that abundantly clear, Inspector.”
“Will you excuse us a minute? Interview suspended, 1411.”
In the corridor Lovett expressed his doubts. “I don’t get it, Guv. If he can’t
drive he’s out of the frame, surely?”
“Check with Swansea. He could be pulling a fast one. And we need to check
medical records for the alleged cot-death. Sounds genuine, but we need to be
sure.”
Lovett made for the computer room. Pitman knocked on Weisman’s door.
“David, that was quick.”
“Sir, this is not proving quite as black and white as at first appeared.”
Weisman’s smile faded. “Go on.”
“Randall says he can’t drive. Never has. Lovett’s checking with Swansea now,
but it’s a spanner in the works if true.”
“There are plenty of drivers on the road who have never taken their test,
David. Don’t tell me you’re having doubts about this one too? Getting to be a
habit, isn’t it?”
“Just trying to be objective, Sir.”
“But he admits to being in Woolwich on the day the child was murdered. We have
that letter.”
“As his brief pointed out, on its own that is a tenuous link.
“But the underwear…”
“None belonged to the local girl, Rebecca, that much we do know. Obviously if
there’s a match to the other victims then we’re on a roll. But that will take
time to confirm either way.”
“But he admits to being a paedo. We have the statement from that nurse.”
“I don’t think his inclinations are in dispute, Sir, but that doesn’t mean
he’s Uncle Tom. He doesn’t come across as your stereotype serial killer.”
“Exactly how many serial killers have you dealt with in your long and
illustrious career, David?”
“Point taken, Sir.”
Pitman rejoined Lovett in the interview room.

157

Isaac asked, “Any problems, Inspector?”
“Nothing to worry about. If Mr Randall is being straight with us.”
“My client resents that remark, Inspector. Do you have any news on the
children?”
“Nothing as yet. We’ll keep you appraised. Interview resumed, 1426. Present as
before. Mr. Randall, I’d like to ask you about your movements on certain dates
over the past six months. Starting with the early evening of Friday, July
second.”
“I was at home with Bethan. We were watching a old Batman DVD. Batman Forever.
Bethan’s a Val Kilmer fan.”
“You can remember what film you were watching on a given night nearly six
months ago?”
“It was the night Rebecca went missing. Those kind of things stick in your
mind.”
Lovett looked unconvinced. “I haven’t a clue what I was doing on that night,
and I’ve been on the case since day one.”
“It was on the news the next day, that she’d disappeared.”
Pitman asked, “What about August first and second.?”
“The two girls in Wales. Laura Coverton and Tina Stamp.”
Lovett raised an eyebrow. “Any particular reason why you know their names?”
“Gentleman, please,” Isaac chided. “It’s public knowledge. Leading
questions won’t help resolve this matter.”
“So where were you on those dates, Greg. Watching the rest of the Batman
films?”
Randall shrugged, looking worried. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
“What about the first and second of September? And October? And November?”
Randall looked nervous. “How should I know? Rebecca was a local kid. Of course
I remember it. But the others…” He paused, searching his memory, then, “On
the October dates we were in Scotland. Yes.” He sat up, sensing a way out.
“Bethan’s sister lives there. Her brother-in-law is in the air force. RAF
Leuchars, St. Andrews.” He smiled as memory served. “We were there the whole
week, including the days the two girls went missing.”
“And these relatives will be able to confirm this will they?”
“Of course. Bethan will have their address.”
“We’ll check that out.” Lovett looked disappointed. “Let’s return to your
movements on December first. I’m showing the suspect a map of the Woolwich area.
Here’s the station. Here’s the clinic. It’s about, what, a mile and a half at
most? Can you show me which route you took from the station to the clinic? Did
you walk, or take a taxi?”
“Taxi.”
“Straight to the clinic?”
“No, I didn’t want the driver knowing where I was going. He just dropped me at
the top of the road.”
“Which is here. And would you believe it, the child’s body was found just
here, what, five minutes away?”
Isaac jumped in. “Inspector, you’ve already established Greg cannot drive. The
fact of his being in Woolwich on that day is pure coincidence. He had a
legitimate purpose for being there as the letter confirms. You have absolutely
nothing to link my client with the Woolwich murder or any previous murders. Your
Sergeant’s constant insinuations to the contrary are completely unacceptable.”
“With respect, Mr. Isaac, we have five pairs of little girls’ knickers, worn
knickers, soiled knickers, which your client has been unable to provide a
satisfactory explanation for being in his possession.”
Isaac looked to Randall. They had agreed on a strategy for this before the
interview had resumed.
“My client wishes to make a statement about that, to clear the matter up.”
“This should be fun.”
“That’s enough, Mike.” Pitman glared at his colleague. “In your own time,
Mr Randall.”
“The underwear… I found them.”

158

Lovett was grinning madly.
“Let me get this straight. You were walking down the road one day and lo and
behold five pairs of little girls soiled knickers were laying there abandoned on
the pavement. So you popped them in your pocket and later put them in your
drawer. Saving them up until your daughters grew into them, I presume?”
A long silence. Then, “I found them at a swimming pool.”
“Come on, Greg, don’t treat us like idiots.”
“If you’ll give my client a chance to finish, Sergeant,” Isaac said sternly.
“I found them. Not all at once. On different occasions. I take the Twins
swimming a lot. We try and visit different pools, to make it more interesting
for them. Lots of different bus and train rides.”
“Of course, because you can’t drive,” said Lovett.
“Mike…” warned Pitman. “Carry on, Mr Randall. At which pool or pools did
you find these items of clothing?”
“Various. Some have communal changing rooms. You know, men and women changing
together.”
“Together?”
“In cubicles, obviously. But a mixed-sex changing area.”
“Go on.”
“Quite often people leave things behind. Towels, shampoo, swim costumes.”
“Underwear?”
“Yes.”
Lovett laughed out loud. “So these unknown little girls all went home and
somehow forgot to put their knickers on. Don’t you think they would have
noticed the draught?”
“They probably wore their costumes home, Sergeant,” suggested Isaac. “I
swim regularly at the Whitstable pool, which has a mixed-sex changing facility,
and can confirm miscellaneous items are often left in cubicles.”
“Underwear?”
“On occasion, yes. Ask at ception about lost property.”
“But you don’t steal them, Mr Isaac. Greg here appears to be admitting he does
exactly that. But just the little girls’ knickers, is that right, Greg? Or
will we find a load of boys’ pants, towels and half-empty shampoo bottles
you’ve collected as well?”
Randall stared at the table. “I just sort of picked them up, at different
times.”
“You just sort of picked them up,” repeated Lovett. “And pigs might
fly.”
Pitman asked quietly, “Why, Mr Randall?”
Randall looked away. “Why do you think?”
“I think you have a knicker fetish, Greg. That’s what I think.”
“That’s not a crime, Sergeant,” Isaac said.
“Little girls’ knickers,” Lovett went on. “Soiled little girls’ knickers.
That makes you a paedophile in my book, Greg.”
“My client’s private fantasies are just that, Sergeant. His private fantasies.
It’s not a crime to be a paedophile.”
“Well it fucking well ought to be.”
“That’s enough, Mike,” Pitman said firmly. “Mr Randall, have you anything
else you’d like to say? You understand we will be comparing these… These items
of underwear, with the clothes missing from the murder victims.”
Isaac jumped in. “Inspector, as I understand it there was a semen trace found
on the murdered child. A simple test can surely resolve this matter once and for
all?”
“We’ve already taken DNA swabs as per standard practise,” said Pitman.
“Are you saying Mr Randall is volunteering a semen sample as well?”
“It ought to prove his innocence pretty conclusively, I’d say.”
“Or his guilt,” said Lovett.
“Mr Randall?”
Randall nodded. “Anything to get me out of here.”
“I’ll make the necessary arrangements, Mr Isaac. I’m sure we can expedite the
process given the severity of the charges.”
“How soon?”
Pitman shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Meanwhile, of course, Mr
Randall will remain our guest, until such time as the Met formally request his
company, then he’ll be transferred to a London station.”
Randall looked mortified. “But it’s almost Christmas… The Twins…
Jeremy?”
“I’m sorry, Greg. Until we get the test results back there’s absolutely
nothing I can do.”