“Yeah.”
“Was she conscious or unconscious?”
“Conscious. She was struggling.”
“Then why did you get need to get rid of the van. To dispose of it at the car dismantlers like you did.”
Ari dropped his head for a few seconds before returning his gaze. “Because Mohammed just told us to. If he tells you something you obey.”
“Did you do this straightaway?”
“No we hid the van in a garage for a few days then took it there.”
“Did anyone else use it?”
“No we hid it.”
“Ari I’ve let you go on a bit but that’s because I wanted to give you enough rope to hang yourself. What you have just told us is complete bullshit. And how do I know that? Well firstly, how do you account for fibres being found in the rear of the van? The same fibres, which match those of the rug, in which Samia’s body was found, when it was dragged up from the lake. Before you try and dig your way out of that one I also want to introduce some other evidence as well. Do you remember a few years ago when Samia was at University and she had a relationship with a young man who was training to be a doctor?”
Ari’s eyes rose up towards the ceiling.
“A young man, who you, and your brother assaulted, because of their relationship?”
His eyes lowered. “No complaint was ever made about that.”
“No it wasn’t but we know that on a later occasion you and your brother paid him a visit when he was working at Barnwell Infirmary and warned him off, and also damaged his car. And the bad news for you is that he just happened to be driving his car at Barnwell lake on Friday the first of August, the night you and your brother dumped Samia’s body in the lake, and he recognised you driving your uncle’s white van away from the scene.”
He saw from Ari’s changed expression that he had him. The man closed his eyes a few seconds then snapped them open. “I’ve told you what happened, now I’m saying fuck all else.”
Hunter tried a few more probing questions which Ari batted off with ‘no comment’ and he realised he had lost the impetus of the interview. He made a decision to sum things up, draw it to a close, and return him to his cell.
* * * * *
Hunter and Grace waited in the custody suite. Tony Bullars and Mike Sampson had not fared any better with Pervez Arshad who had also made no comment to the majority of the questions, and once he had been shown the CCTV footage of the attack upon Samia had refused to talk to the detectives except to demand to be locked up back in his cell.
They still had to interview Mohammed and his wife Jilani. At least Ari’s evidence had implicated Samia’s father and would provide a wedge, though Hunter doubted the truth of that, especially as they knew that Samia had been violently raped prior to being murdered. From his experience that just didn’t feel like something a father would do. He knew they had made in-roads that afternoon but they were still no nearer to getting a clear-cut confession to the murder of Samia.
As they all made their way back to the incident room for de-briefing Hunter knew the priority was to find the attack site. That would provide them with so many answers and much needed evidence to swing the enquiry.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
DAY THIRTY FOUR: 26th September.
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Hunter pulled another bacon sandwich from the pile, which Angie the cleaner and his partner Grace had made. He’d heard the pair chatting and laughing, in the small kitchen next to the incident room, over the past twenty minutes.
Most of the team were in, hugging mugs of warm tea or coffee, munching on the surprise breakfast and gossiping whilst waiting for the early morning briefing.
Looking around the room and listening, Hunter knew that this enquiry had just turned the corner, despite lacking the confessions to Samia’s murder. The implication from Ari that his uncle Mohammed was also responsible for his daughter’s final days and hours was the starter for the day, and with a bit of luck might just be the lever for obtaining the proper story.
Grace walked into the room with another plateful of sandwiches. “That’s it, all the bacon’s gone now,” she said plonking the plate down between hers and Hunter’s desk.
“What muck have you two raked up on someone then? You were going at it hammer and tongs back there.” Hunter bit into the warm bread.
Grace flopped into her seat and leaned across her desk. “You will never guess what I’ve just found out from Angie,” she responded in a hushed voice.
“Go on enlighten me.”
“The boss is only having a thing with that DCI from Scotland.”
“You are joking?”
“Nah, nah. One of her friends is waitressing at the Stables restaurant. The pair have been in there most evenings.”
Hunter shook his head in amazement and grinned. “Well the crafty bugger. I’ll have to give him some rib over that.”
Grace smiled herself and settled back in her chair.
Hunter took another bite of his sandwich. The mention of DCI Dawn Leggate caused him to drift away for a few moments. His parents were still staying with them as Billy Wallace and Rab Geddes still had not been caught. He’d wanted so much to sit down and sort things out with his dad but since the revelation he had not had the opportunity because of the investigation. He had spoken to Beth about it when he had finally fallen into bed the last few nights and she had told him that what she had seen of his father had been a pitiful sight. She said he had been moping round the house like a caged animal and certainly wasn’t eating properly. Hunter’s mum had also taken Beth to one side and told her that his dad was desperate for some time with him to explain everything.
The sooner we put this enquiry to bed, the better.
“You lot owe me a gallon of beer,” announced Barry Newstead, pushing through the incident room doors.
It broke Hunter’s daydream.
“You are going to really thank me for this,” he continued, waving aloft a clear plastic wallet containing a CD disc. He strode towards the large TV, switched it on with a podgy index finger, inserted the disc into the DVD player and snatched up the remote. “I spent most of yesterday afternoon with the neighbourhood team for the Parkhill Flats. Did you know most of it is covered by CCTV?”
The plasma screen fluttered into life.
“There are twenty odd cameras fitted around the outside of the place plus they also have lift cameras at each floor inside the flats. I searched various time frames between the twenty-eighth of July when we know Samia was abducted from Meadowhall right through to the first of August when we believe her body was dumped in the lake and I found this little lot.”
Hunter watched Barry’s face split with a wide grin. He knew from his time teamed up with the investigator over the years that he loved nothing more than to have centre-stage.
Barry exaggerated the starting of the play mechanism by firing the remote at the DVD player as if he was shooting a gun. A grainy image fluttered onto the forty-eight inch screen.
“This was captured at nine-thirty-six pm on the first of August. This camera is looking down on a grassed area in front of one of the buildings.”
Suddenly in the right hand corner of the TV two men in dark hooded tops stumbled into view, struggling with a rolled-up bundle. Barry zoomed in on the hazy images.
One of the men had his back to the camera and was bent over almost dragging along the ground what appeared to be a large rolled up rug.
Although the hoods were up on both men, hiding their faces, Hunter could clearly make out the white lettering on the back of one of the designer hooded tops. The words SEMTEX was visible. He felt a surge of excitement run through him.
The team watched in silence their eyes fixed to the set. The play continued until the two men disappeared off camera with their bundle.