Michael Fowler - Cold Death

Hunter pushed his legs under the table and dropped his paperwork and exhibits onto the veneer surface with a resounding slap for effect. He slowly and deliberately unfastened his cuffs and rolled his shirt-sleeves back to reveal sinewy muscled forearms.

Tony Bullars flicked on the tape recording machine.

“Mr Hassan you understand why you have been arrested, don’t you?” opened Hunter. “We have explained to you that your daughter’s body has been recovered from Barnwell Lake and that she has been murdered.”

Mohammed nodded.

His bearded overweight solicitor began making notes.

“Mr Hassan. I would appreciate a verbal answer. The tape cannot pick up nods.”

“Yes, yes,” he stammered. He licked his lips. “But you have got it wrong I haven’t done anything bad to Samia. I haven’t killed her.”

“We’ll get around to that in a minute.” Hunter steepled his fingers and looked over them. He tried to lock onto Mohammed’s eyes but his were darting around; he was avoiding making eye contact.

A classic sign of guilt.

“When I was at your place a week ago you told me that Samia had flown to Pakistan to get married to a cousin of yours. Do you remember telling me that?”

“I can recall saying something like that but I think you misunderstood what I meant.”

“Why would I misunderstand you?”

“Because I might not have explained myself.”

“Would you like to explain yourself now then?”

“What I should have said is that I guessed Samia had flown to Pakistan to marry my cousin. You see she packed up all her things a couple of months ago and she told me she was going to Pakistan to marry my cousin.”

Hunter gave a wry smile. He pulled his fingers apart and pushed himself back in his chair. “Well that is very interesting she should say that to you Mr Hassan because we have statements from several people which clearly state that she did not want to go to Pakistan to marry any cousin of yours. In fact those witnesses have said that you were forcing her to go there.”

“They are lying.”

“Why should six different people all say the same thing? That you were trying to force her to go to Pakistan, to force her into a marriage with someone she didn’t know.”

“She probably told them one thing but really meant another. Samia was happy to marry my cousin.”

“If she was happy to marry your cousin why should she pack some of her things together with a view to taking refuge away from you?”

“That is a lie.”

“No it is not Mr Hassan. We have a statement to that effect and we also have the things she packed ready to leave you. We also have a statement from someone who states you went to Sheffield whilst she was staying with friends and you argued with her about going to Pakistan to be married and when she told you she didn’t want to go you slapped her across the face.”

“They are lying. We rowed because I found out she was living with someone. She was bringing dishonour upon herself.”

“Because she had a white boyfriend?” Hunter saw Mohammed’s face colour up.

“No, no, you are trying to put words in my mouth. She was bringing dishonour upon herself because she was sleeping with him before she was married.”

He wanted to probe him further about the involvement of the two men who had assaulted Doctor Chris Woolfe and who had tried to drag Samia into their car, but at this stage the team had not been able to identify them and he didn’t want to alert Mr Hassan to the fact that they were even aware of this incident for fear his two relatives would go to ground, or even disappear out of the country — if they hadn’t already done so. Anyway he still had something else he wanted to hit him with. “I put it to you Mr Hassan, because Samia had made her mind up not to enter into a forced marriage and to get away from you that you decided to do something about it?”

“No, no that is not right.”

“That you were angry with your daughter. That by her refusal to agree to marrying your cousin, you thought she was bringing dishonour to yourself and so you murdered her.”

“No. You are making me out to be a bad man.”

The solicitor stopped scribbling and gave a loud throaty cough. “I think my client has fully answered all your questions relating to this terrible act perpetrated against his daughter. If you press him any further you will be in danger of intimidating him.”

“Oh I wouldn’t want to do that,” Hunter returned sarcastically. He leant forward pushing his arms flat across the interview table and interlaced his fingers. He fixed Mohammed with a glare.

Mr. Hassan stiffened.

“Okay then Mr Hassan, seeing as everyone is lying against you and your solicitor is unhappy with my line of questioning about you being involved in the brutal murder of your daughter.”

“Detective Sergeant Kerr, that is out of order” interjected the solicitor.

Hunter shrugged his shoulders and returned a look of innocence towards the solicitor. “I apologise if you find my questioning offensive, but my job is to discover the truth in this matter and all your client has given me are answers which are evasive. I don’t want to get into a cat fight here on such an important issue so I’ll move on — okay?” He paused. “Mr Hassan this morning when we searched your flat —.”

“You had no right to do that,” Mohammed interrupted.

Hunter raised his clenched hands a fraction then dropped them back down with a thump.

Both Mohammed and the solicitor jumped.

“Sorry about that,” Hunter exclaimed, unlocking his fingers. “Now where was I before I was so rudely interrupted? Oh yes, this morning when we searched your flat — with a warrant,” he added in an exaggerated tone, “we found this at the back of one your kitchen drawers.” He slid out a clear plastic exhibit bag, which contained the registration document for the white Renault Kango van. “I am showing Mr Hassan exhibit RA One.” He slid the document into the centre of the table. “This VR Twelve relates to a white Ranault Kango van registered in two-thousand-and-three. Is this yours Mr Hassan?”

He watched Mohammed blush. A droplet of sweat ran down the side of his face.

“It was mine. I used the van for collecting stock from the warehouse.”

“Where is it now? It’s not at your premises or parked nearby.”

Mohammed Hassan’s gaze galloped up to the ceiling.

“Mr Hassan, can you give me an answer?”

“It, it,” he stammered, “it has been stolen.”

“And when was it stolen?”

“I–I can’t remember exactly,” he paused. “I think it was taken a couple of months ago.”

“Did you report the theft to the police?”

“No.”

“And why didn’t you report the theft of your vehicle Mr Hassan?”

“Because I didn’t think it was worth it.”

“You didn’t think it was worth it?” Hunter returned dryly.

“Well it wasn’t worth that much.”

“Detective Sergeant Kerr,” interjected the solicitor again. He rested his pen on his notepad and stroked the line of his beard to its point. “Is there some significance to this line of questioning or are you on some fishing expedition?”

“No I am not on some fishing expedition. There is something I am working towards.”

“And what would that be?”

“Mr Hassan — your client — has so far indicated that everyone is lying against him and also there is a big coincidence here that I am struggling with”

“A coincidence?”

“Yes a coincidence that your client owns a white two-thousand-and-three plate Renault Kango van and a similar one was seen in suspicious circumstances at Barnwell Country Park shortly after we think Samia’s body was dumped in the lake.”