“I like the red ones the best,” said Natalie.
“But yellow 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 packet. “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 M&Ms, then at Simmons. Tamara nodded reluctantly.
“Thank you, Tamara. Am I your friend too, Natalie?”
Natalie watched as Simmons opened the pack and gave half 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 giggled. “Always at bath time.”
“Tamara!” Natalie objected through a mouthful of chewed M&Ms.
“We may as well tell her, Natalie. She did give us some candies.”
Natalie considered. “Okay, but you say it. I don't want to.”
Tamara stuffed more M&Ms 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 your daddy doesn’t get 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 M&Ms 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 pee 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 White Plains 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 train, then -”
“Hold on. You went by train?”
“You expected me to walk?”
“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 law.”
Pitman and Lovett exchanged glances.
“Mr Randall, are you telling us you've you don’t have a drivers’ license?”
“Lieutenant, is this relevant?”
“There was a car on Mr Randall’s drive. Our officers searched it.”
“It's Elizabeth's.”
“And she needed it to take the children to school, so you went to White Plains 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 newlywed, a pregnant wife and a new mortgage. Money was tight. We could only afford driving lessons for one of us, and Elizabeth 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 Oscar winning performances from heinous criminals? He recalled Dr. Reynolds' explanation of the girls’ nickname at the Social Services Case Conference. Obnoxious woman.
“Mr. Randall, do you have the train tickets? A receipt? The credit card slip, perhaps?”
“I paid cash.”
“How convenient.”
“I didn't want Elizabeth 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, Lieutenant.”
“Will you excuse us a minute? Interview suspended, 1411.”
In the corridor Lovett expressed his doubts. “I don't get it. If he can't drive he's out of the frame, surely?”
“Check it out. 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 now, but it's a spanner in the works if true.”
“There are plenty of drivers on the road who don’t have a license, 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 White Plains on the day the child was murdered. We have that letter.”
“As his attorney said, on its own that’s 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 short-eye. 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.”
157
Pitman rejoined Lovett in the interview room.
Isaac asked, “Any problems, Lieutenant?”
“Nothing to worry about. If Mr Randall is being straight with us.”
“My client resents that remark, Lieutenant. 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 Elizabeth. We were watching a old Batman DVD. Batman Forever. Elizabeth'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, Coverton and Brianna 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 Ohio. Yes.” He sat up, sensing a way out. “Elizabeth's sister lives there. Cleveland.” 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. Elizabeth 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 White Plains 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. “Lieutenant, you've already established Greg cannot drive. The fact of his being in White Plains 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 White Plains homicide or any previous homicides. Your Sergeant's constant insinuations to the contrary are completely unacceptable.”
“With respect, Mr. Isaac, we have five pairs of little girls' panties, worn panties, soiled panties, 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 panties were laying there abandoned on the sidewalk. So you popped them in your pocket and later put them in your closet. 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 panties on. Don’t you think they would have noticed the draught?”
“They probably wore their costumes home, Sergeant,” suggested Isaac. “I swim regularly at a pool that has a mixed-sex changing facility, and can confirm miscellaneous items are often left in cubicles.”
“Underwear?”
“On occasion, yes. Ask at reception 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’ panties, is that right, Greg? Or will we find a load of boys’ underwear, 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 panties fetish, Greg. That's what I think.”
“That's not a crime, Sergeant,” Isaac said.
“Little girls' panties,” Lovett went on. “Soiled little girls' panties. That makes you a pedophile in my book, Greg.”
“My client's private fantasies are just that, Sergeant. His private fantasies. It's not a crime to be a pedophile.”
“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. “Lieutenant, 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 practice,” 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 White Plans formally request his company, then he’ll be transferred.”
Randall looked mortified. “But it’s almost the Holidays... The Twins... Jeremy?”
“I'm sorry, Greg. Until we get the test results back there's absolutely nothing I can do.”
159
“I'm sorry, Matt.”
“No, I should have thought, Claire.”
“The first Holidays without Rebecca. I just can't face it, Matt. She was only ten last Christmas. Her last Christmas.”
Matt clutched her hand, but let her talk it through.
“She'd known the truth about Santa since she was six, when she woke up that Christmas Eve and saw John putting the presents by her bed. But she still put out an orange and a mince pie every year. She was in no hurry to grow up. Not like some of her friends, piling on the make-up. Rebecca loved the joy of Christmas. The carol singing and the wrapping presents. An
d the Christmas TV.”
“I remember coming round. It was mid-day and you were both still in bed, watching cartoons.”
Claire managed a smile. “And the Bond films, of course. Rebecca just loved those. Well, the Roger Moore ones, at least. They were more family orientated, I guess. What was that one with the clowns at the beginning?”
“Octopussy.”
Claire smiled. “She never understood the double entendres, of course. Just enjoyed the fun and the action. She never saw the point of Daniel Craig.”
“She was a great kid, Claire. You'll always have those memories.”
Claire stared out of the window, eyes glazed. “I wonder what he's doing now?”
“Daniel Craig?”
“Uncle Tom. Randall, whatever his name is.”
“Forget him, Claire. It's over.”
“There's still the trial.”
“That's just a formality. Life will mean life for this one. He'll spend his every remaining Holidays behind bars.”
“That's all I wanted to hear.”
160
The Dynamite Twins were sat on the floor, a foot away from the screen, watching Snow White on DVD, taking turns with the remote to rewind every other scene. Their grandmother sat in her chair, watching them.
“Girls, move back a bit. You'll damage your eyes sitting that close.”
Tamara looked to Elizabeth for support. “Mommy, do we have to? I like sitting close.”
“Me too,” said Natalie. “You can see all the really important bits from here.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Twins, just do what Grandma asks. I don't want any arguments.”
“Daddy lets us sit close.”
Elizabeth's barked response made the twins flinch. “Do as you're told! Now!”
The twins stood up as one, took a step back, then sat down and dragged themselves back to their original position. Elizabeth was about to bring them to order when she realized their grandmother had been taken in by the maneuver. She let it go.
The twins had been back two days.
There was no apology.
No admission that Social Services had been wrong.
It had been a narrow escape, Bamford had told her. Only the swift action of Social Services had prevented a tragedy. The father was on the verge of raping them.
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