Michael Fowler - Cold Death

“Stop rubbing your eyes you’ll only make it worse,” Grace retorted with a smirk, slipping her CS gas canister back into her jacket pocket. She turned to Hunter. “I thought he was going to attack me so I gassed him.”

“Fucking liar I said I was coming quietly.”

Hunter kept a straight face.

“I don’t know Grace, what have I said to you about police brutality and that temper of yours?” He opened the back door of his car and guided Ari onto the rear seat. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything like that. I don’t know I can’t take you anywhere.”

He turned to see her rolling up her eyes and shaking her head in mock despair and he shot her a wink.

“Well done everyone,” he exclaimed slamming the car door shut. “Let’s wrap this up and get these two back for questioning.”

Barnwell:

Hunter picked up one of the Pakistani passports from his desk, flicked through the inside pages and added a few more notes to his pre-interview record. He set it back down amongst the pile of evidence laid out across his and Grace’s desks.

Upon their return to Barnwell with their prisoners the team had emptied the contents of the Ari and Pervez’s Vauxhall Astra. In the boot they found personal clothing belonging to the pair in three holdalls together with two single journey airline tickets to Allama Iqbal Internationa Airport in Lahore and two Pakistan National passports, which displayed Ari and Pervez’s photographs but under other names.

The Drug Squad informant had been spot on about the brothers making ready to flee the country thought Hunter, as he put the finishing touches to his notes. He looked across at Grace who was still logging the evidence.

The Incident room was empty. DS Mark Gamble and DC Paula Clarke had shot out to Hoyland — to the Hassan’s convenience store; they were going to re-arrest Mohammed and Jilani, now that the Arshads’ were in custody, whilst the other two members of the team DCs Andy France and Alex Mills were still across in Sheffield, trying to determine an address for the brothers. They had refused to divulge their place of abode to the Custody Sergeant and nothing in their possessions helped to highlight one. However they had recovered both the brothers’ mobile phones which were with the technical experts in the hope that they could locate the last spot where a signal was emitted. It was a long shot.

“Ready?” he asked. He and Grace had been given the task of interviewing Ari Arshad whilst Tony Bullars and Mike Sampson had the job of questioning his brother Pervez. They were already in one of the other interview rooms.

Grace nodded.

Hunter pushed back his chair and gathered up his notes. He took a final lingering look at the incident board time-line sequence, confirming and double-checking in his head that he had it all lodged, ready for when he needed to dig in to his memory banks during the interview. He pursed his lips and nodded to himself. He was prepared.

“Okay Grace let’s put this job to bed.”

* * * * *

Ari Arshad presented a cocky look despite the painful pink flesh graze to his right cheek. That had been caused when Hunter had tripped him prior to his arrest and he had already bleated to the Custody Officer that he had been assaulted when he had been booked in.

He was leaning back on the rear legs of his chair, arms folded defensively.

The duty solicitor who had been called in was seated next to him scribbling notes into his legal pad. The minute the two detectives had walked into the room Hunter saw him check his watch and make a note of the time.

Hunter dropped his paperwork and the evidence on the table in dramatic fashion.

It made the solicitor jump and he scowled over his spectacles.

Hunter cracked a false apologetic smile. “Sorry about that,” he said raising his eyebrows and taking his seat opposite. He nodded to Grace and she started the tape recording machine.

Hunter went through the customary preamble to an interview, flicking open his folder even though he knew in his mind he wouldn’t need to refer to it.

“For the tape can I confirm you are Ari Arshad?”

The prisoner exchanged a look with his solicitor who shrugged his shoulders and returned a nod.

Ari rocked slightly on the back legs of his chair. “That’s right, I am the one and only Ari Arshad,” he sniped.

“And not Habib-ur-Begum as it says in the Pakistan National Passport which we found amongst your possessions?”

“No comment.”

“Why were you in possession of a false passport and a one way airline ticket to Pakistan?”

“No comment.”

“Okay if that’s the tack you wish to take Ari I’ll ask you a less incriminating question. Just for the record what relation are you to Mohammed Hassan.”

He glanced at his solicitor again who gestured with raised eyebrows that it was okay to answer.

“Mohammed is my uncle.”

“And so Samia Hassan, his daughter, is your cousin?” Hunter removed a photo of Samia from beneath his papers. It was a blown up shot from the Meadowhall CCTV footage. “For the tape I am showing the defendant a colour photograph of Samia Hassan. Is this the Samia we are talking about?”

Ari nodded, “yes.”

“When was the last time you saw Samia?”

He bunched his shoulders. “Can’t remember.”

“Rough guess. Couple of weeks, couple of months?”

“Couple of months I guess.”

“Where was that?”

“At my uncle’s place.”

“What address is that?” Hunter was hoping for a slip up. They still did not know the attack site.

“His shop in Hoyland.”

“You have already been told the reason for your arrest this morning haven’t you?”

“Yes, but that’s shit. I haven’t murdered Samia. You’ve got the wrong man Mr smart detective.”

Hunter rolled with the sarcastic retort — let it wash over him. “I’m guessing you’ve seen the TV news and the newspapers headlines about Samia’s murder?”

“Yeah.”

“When did you first become aware of her disappearance?”

“Can’t remember.”

“Who told you about it?”

“My uncle — I think?”

“Can you remember when that was?”

“Nope.”

Hunter knew he needed to move things forward. He replaced the photograph in his folder and took out another. It depicted the white Renault van, which had been recovered from the Rotherham car dismantlers. “Ari, slight change of questioning now. Do you recognise this van.”

Hunter clocked a reaction in Ari’s face.

He dropped his chair back on to its four legs but he did not respond.

“I’ll ask the question again. Do you recognise this white Renault van?”

Ari coughed. “I think so.”

“You think so?”

“My uncle owned a similar van.”

“This is the van owned by your uncle — Mohammed Hassan — I can confirm that from its index number. Have you ever driven this van?” Hunter knew from Duncan Wroe’s SOCO report that Ari’s fingerprints and DNA were all over the van and that he had been seen in the Country Park by Doctor Christopher Woolfe.

There were a couple of seconds silence then he replied softly, “Yeah I used to do deliveries for him.”

“When was the last time you drove or were in this van?”

There was a delayed response again. “Can’t remember,” he returned.

“Let me help you remember. Have you ever been to Meadowhall in the van?”

Now there was a clear reaction. Ari locked his arms tighter and his face hardened.

Hunter waited for twenty seconds but there was no reply. “I’ll ask the question again. Have you ever driven or been in this vehicle to Meadowhall shopping centre?”

Ari turned to his solicitor as if seeking to be helped out with an answer. His solicitor picked up on the look. “DS Kerr is this line of questioning going anywhere?”