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.”
“You say shortly after you think Samia’s body was dumped.”
Hunter wished he had chosen his words more carefully.
“I gather by that comment you do not know for certain that was what exactly happened.”
Hunter knew the solicitor had the advantage.
“These might be coincidences Sergeant Kerr, I’ll grant you that, but as you well know coincidences do not make for a case. Now unless you have any pertinent questions for my client, I suggest we finish things here…that is unless you have something more concrete?”
At that moment Hunter knew the solicitor had the upper hand. He realised it would be futile to carry on unless he wanted to reveal the information about the two men seen dumping Samia’s body and whom the team strongly felt were related to the Hassans. Hunter pushed himself back in his chair and pasted on a false smile. “Mr Hassan I am going to bring this interview to a close. We have a number of further enquiries to make especially to track down your Renault van which has been so conveniently stolen, but I’m sure that when we will find it there will be some further questions for you.”
Hunter picked up his papers and the exhibit bag and scraped back his chair. Maintaining his false smile he nodded to Tony Bullars to turn off the recording machine and then he cast Mohammed Hassan a threatening look. “In the words of The Canadian Mounted Police — we always get our man.” Then before the solicitor even had the chance to challenge he spun around and strode purposefully out of the interview room.
Closing the door behind him Hunter kept his hand firmly gripped around the handle; as if he was squeezing the very life out of it. In the corridor he turned to Tony. “Fuck, fuck, bastarding fuck.” He muttered through gritted teeth.
Tony smirked. “I gather by that outburst Hunter, that one is a tad fractious and frustrated. You could always resort to torturing him for a confession.”
His colleague’s words lightened Hunter’s mood and his mouthed creased into a smile. “Now, now Bully, you know that’s not my style.” He winked and let go of the door handle. “That smug solicitor may have won that battle but he hasn’t won the war.”
* * * * *
Hunter knew the minute he walked into the incident room that there would be an air of expectancy waiting. Half a dozen faces of the murder squad including Grace and Mike Sampson’s all stared in his direction. He raised his hands in a surrender pose. “Sorry guys I failed. No cough, no job. It’s back to the grindstone I’m afraid.”
Watching the detective’s part to continue their tasks he beckoned to Grace. Flopping down in his chair opposite her he said, “You have any joy with Mrs Hassan?”
Grace shook her head.
Hunter dropped his shoulders and sighed. “What a bummer.” He began picking at his nails as he recounted the interview to his partner. “And I’m afraid SOCO can’t help us either,” he added, “I rang Duncan Wroe ten minutes ago and he says the Hassans place is definitely not the attack site.”
“Me and Mike haven’t made any progress either,” exclaimed Grace picking up where Hunter had finished. “We couldn’t get any momentum going with her. Every time we asked a probing question she’d say she couldn’t understand what we were saying. Going through an interpreter as well as a solicitor was bloody awful.” She tried to put on a brave face. “Do you know I even tried the motherly daughter approach to empathise with her. You know, tell her what I’d do if it was my daughter and I thought my husband was responsible, but she just sat there stony-faced. The woman is a real heartless bitch. I’ll tell you what though I’ll be ready for her next time.”