‘They’re here,’ Hendricks said, looking out of the corridor window into the yard below. The outriders drove in, followed by the wagon, and the gates closed as the cameras flashed from outside the yard. Hendricks had to crane his neck to catch a glimpse of Middleton, as he was ushered out of the back doors of the wagon, in handcuffs and with a blanket covering his head.
Two uniformed officers were waiting as Middleton was brought into the corridor. The blanket was removed but his handcuffs were to remain until he was inside the interrogation area. He followed the two officers in front while two followed behind, and was led down three flights of stairs.
Glenda watched the lights come on in the main viewing room. She knew that any moment Middleton would be led in. Jack remained standing beside DCI Clarke, while Ms Bamford sat opposite them, nonchalantly inspecting her bracelet. She had a leather-bound notebook in front of her with an elegant gold pen beside it. No mobile phones were allowed.
Anik arrived in the viewing room and took a seat, shortly joined by Laura. Glenda insisted that no more people should be allowed in.
‘She looks as if she’s waiting for someone to bring her a glass of wine,’ Laura said, nodding at Georgina Bamford.
‘Don’t let her appearance fool you, Laura; she is one sharp cookie,’ Glenda cautioned. ‘She’s got quite a fearsome reputation, and believe me, her claws will be sharpened.’
There was a knock at the door as the officers accompanying Middleton arrived outside the interrogation room. They led him in and were given the nod to remove his handcuffs. He was wearing a worn black t-shirt, black trousers and black trainers.
‘He’s taller than I thought,’ Glenda said quietly. She leaned forwards.
‘He reminds me of OJ Simpson, a younger version obviously.’
‘I think he’s a cross between him and that Night Stalker, the one in LA,’ Laura said. ‘His hair is longer, but his eyes are similar. It looks to me as if he’s been working out in prison, too. Look at those muscles,’ she added, before someone told her to shush.
The intercom was turned on so they could hear each person in the interview room introduce themselves. Rodney Middleton said his name with his head bowed. Then Clarke read him his rights, speaking clearly and slowly. Middleton did not react.
Jack took out a file, laying it down on the table and opening it. He smiled across at Middleton.
‘Before I begin to question you, Mr Middleton, I think it is important that I give you some information regarding the DNA evidence we have gathered. I want you to clearly understand what exactly DNA is, because I am aware that you have had no formal education, and have no GCSEs or A Levels. You have also not been able to gain any employment and have lived the majority of your adult life on benefits — although I am sure it has required some degree of intelligence to work the system.’
‘I find all this unnecessary and insulting,’ Ms Bamford said sharply.
Jack shrugged. ‘I am simply attempting to inform your client regarding the complex subject of DNA.’
Jack had already caught the look in Middleton’s eyes and noticed the way he tightened his lips. He knew that by focusing on his lack of formal education and his inability to earn a living, he was chipping away at his narcissistic self-image. Middleton clearly didn’t like appearing inferior.
Jack produced a stack of documents and photographs.
‘Now, even this tiny amount of blood’ — he picked up his pencil and on a blank sheet of paper made a small dot — ‘can provide vital DNA evidence, as the forensic scientists can tell us whose blood it is more precisely than a fingerprint. Now, to someone without formal education, this may be hard to grasp, but when our forensic scientists are evaluating DNA samples, they can also establish genetic relationships.’
Again Jack noted how Middleton stiffened at the mention of his lack of education. Jack now began to place photographs of the tools removed from the coal hole in front of him. He pointed to the arrows on each photograph, indicating where traces of DNA had been detected. Ms Bamford impatiently leaned back in her chair as Middleton looked at each photograph. He paid close attention to the wire brush as Jack explained that they had discovered DNA caught between the wires and had concluded that it was not skin or tissue from the outer body, but scrapings from a human heart. With that discovery, they knew the victim could not have been alive.
In the viewing room, Anik shook his head. He could not understand what Jack was doing, going into such detail about DNA.
‘You think he’s trying to bore him into talking?’ he suggested.
Glenda frowned, nodding towards the viewing room.
‘Look what he’s showing him now.’
Jack had been explaining how they had collected the samples from the bins in the basement, and about the extent of blood pooling in the coal hole. Then he leaned back in his chair. ‘So, Mr Middleton, you now understand about the evidence collected from the basement yard and the coal hole. Let me show you the next section.’
‘How long is this going to go on for?’ Ms Bamford snapped.
Jack ignored her as he began to lay out the crime scene photographs from inside the basement flat. There was an enlarged picture of the hairs taken from the drain.
‘This is very interesting regarding DNA. As you can see, four of the tangled hairs discovered in your bathroom, and in the drain of the bath, had the small bulb or root attached. This made it very easy for the forensic scientists to match them with the samples from the victims’ hairbrushes. We gained further identifiable DNA from toothbrushes provided by the parents of the three victims. Now, another interesting point is contamination. This is important because we have two locations. We have the basement flat, where you lived with Amanda Dunn, and then we have the coal hole. So, it was imperative that we were able to prove, via DNA, that certain samples could not have been brought into that flat from the coal hole. This tells us with a high degree of certainty that no one other than yourself could have been responsible for those samples being there.’
Jack could sense that Ms Bamford was about to interrupt, so quickly slapped down photographs of the bed-linen, pinpointing semen stains and both pubic and head hair.
‘Please can we forgo any more of your educational lectures, or I will be forced to end this interview,’ she snapped.
‘I am, Miss Bamford, simply making sure that your client, despite his lack of education, fully understands the nature of the forensic evidence.’
As if to show that he did not take the repeated jibe about his lack of education seriously, Middleton just shrugged. Jack now removed the second file from the box and pulled out the three photographs of the victims. First was Jamail. With one finger he pushed the photograph across the table closer to Middleton.
‘Do you recognise the girl in this photograph?’
‘No comment.’
Jack did the same with the photograph of Trudie.
‘No comment.’
When he showed him Nadine’s photograph, he got the same reply.
‘So, Mr Middleton, you do not recognise any of these three girls? Yet we know that each one of them lived with you in your flat.’
‘No comment.’
‘You, along with your girlfriend, Amanda Dunn, picked up these three girls on different occasions from Euston Station and you both took them back to your flat, didn’t you?’
‘No comment.’
‘After a certain period of time, when you were bored or when Amanda became upset by their continued presence, you got rid of them, didn’t you?’
‘No comment.’
‘I think you killed these girls in your bedroom or in the coal cellar, where you later dismembered them. You then wrapped their body parts in bin liners and put them in the bins, ready for collection, didn’t you?’