“Mrs Hassan I am a Mother of two daughters and if I thought my husband had been involved in their deaths I would move heaven and earth to see him punished. As a mother yourself I do not believe for one second you would want anything different. Am I right?”
With glazed over eyes she nodded. Then she began to speak in Urdu. After about twenty seconds she stopped. “I never realised that they had done that to my Samia,” she delivered in broken but understandable English.
Grace reached across and took hold of Jilani’s hands and fixed her a sympathetic look. “Mrs Hassan do you want to tell us what you know?”
She hung her head and dropped her gaze to the table. “I never wanted Samia harmed. I went along with my husband and told her I would disown her after what she had done with that young doctor. She knew our values and she just went against them but I never wished any harm against her. It was Mohammed he wouldn’t let it go. He arranged for her to marry a cousin of his back in Pakistan. He said it would be the best thing for her, but she flung it back in his face. Then he discovered she was planning to run away and he got even angrier.”
“What did he do?” Grace still held Jilani’s hands.
“I knew he was arranging things with Ari but I didn’t know what he intended. I know Ari and Pervez are not good people — that they have been in trouble, but I do not know what for. I pleaded with Mohammed to let things be, just disown her as our daughter, but he wanted to punish her he said for bringing dishonour to him.” She lifted her head and broke into a fresh sobbing fit.
Grace let her hands go and fished a paper handkerchief from her jacket pocket and handed it over.
Jilani dried her eyes. The kohl smudged further.
“Please go on Mrs Hassan.”
“I never knew it was going to go this far. Mohammed told me Ari and Pervez were going to force her to go to Pakistan and everything would be sorted. When you came to the shop and I heard you say you were investigating her murder I was shocked. It was only then that I realised what Mohammed had done to Samia. Believe me I did not know this. What you have shown me on the TV, the thing that has happened to Samia — it is evil.”
“Are you willing to give a statement?”
Jilani wiped her eyes again. Then she nodded.
For evidential purposes the first statement was written in English followed by a second in Urdu, by the interpreter. The evidence against Ari and Pervez Arshad and also Mohammed Hassan was damming and Hunter couldn’t wait for that evening’s briefing. He was also eager to get back into the incident room to find out if the flat had been located.
Hunter followed Grace out into the custody suite corridor closing the interview room door behind him. He could hear Jilani Hassan’s cries of pain. He turned to meet Grace and with sparkling eyes gave her a ‘you did it’ look and then pulled her head forward and planted a kiss on her forehead. “You little beaut,” he said before strolling away back to the incident room.
Sheffield:
Hunter and Grace rode the clanking lift to the fifth floor; they were looking for flat 508.
An hour earlier they had returned to an empty incident room and learned from Isabel Stevens, the HOLMES supervisor that the whole team were over in Sheffield — the Arshad’s flat had been found and they were doing house-to-house enquiries. Upon hearing this they had immediately exchanged excited looks and decided they wanted to be in on the action.
Pervez and Mohammed could sweat in the cells a little bit longer, Hunter had determined as he scooped up a set of car keys.
They had lodged the statements made by Jilani Hassan with Isobel. Then with Hunter aggressively worming and forcing his way through heavy traffic, had quickly journeyed to the Parkhill Flats complex.
The instant the metal doors screeched open Hunter was greeted by a strong smell of pine disinfectant and he could hear lots of activity somewhere out along the corridor.
As he stepped out of the lift he immediately recognised the location from the CCTV footage he had seen earlier that morning. He glanced up at the ceiling at the small black domed fitment, which held the camera, and wondered how on earth the pair had been so stupid. He pointed it out to Grace and then made his way to number 508.
Blue and white police crime scene tape was draped across the dim corridor and a uniformed officer barred their way. Hunter ducked under the tape flashing his warrant card before slotting it into the top pocket of his jacket leaving the shiny silver and blue South Yorkshire Police crest showing.
The door to flat 508 was ajar and he rapped loudly on the boxwood panel and pushed it gently. It opened into a small shadowy corridor but a warm light coming from the partially open door at the other end greeted them. He and Grace stepped through and Hunter pushed open the second door, which from its furnishings Hunter clocked was the lounge. Duncan Wroe was the first person he spotted, crouching on his haunches carrying out a careful examination of the carpet. Two other protectively clothed females were in the room working on the spraying and swabbing of a wall opposite. A bare bulb in the centre of the ceiling gave off the only light. Heavy draped curtains covered one wall and were thick enough to keep out most of the daylight. They hadn’t been pulled back.
The room was sparsely furnished with a flimsy two-seater sofa and a single armchair of cheap quality and yet fastened at chest height on a wall above the fireplace was a huge plasma flat screen TV.
“They’ve obviously got their priorities right,” Hunter said wryly, glancing at Grace and pointing at the TV.
Duncan looked over his shoulder. “I wondered how long it would be before you two arrived,” he said and returned to his task.
“You know us, Duncan can’t keep our noses out,” Hunter quipped. “Anyway I thought you’d have finished with the scene by now. Are you holding out for overtime?”
“Very funny Hunter, very funny,” he riposted without turning around.
“Seriously Duncan, is this the place where Samia was killed?”
“Oh this is it all right.” Supporting his knees with his hands, he slowly eased himself up.
“I’m getting too old for this, roll on my pension.” He sauntered towards the far wall where the white suited women were working. “Attempts have been made to clean down the walls but we’re already picking up blood spatter patterns low down close to the skirting.”
“Blood spatter?”
“Yes a spouting or squirting effect when a blow has been delivered — but by the looks of this lot I would say this is from a cut — a slashing effect. Didn’t she have her throat cut if I remember rightly?”
Grace nodded.
“And there is also a pooling effect soaked into the carpet down to the floorboards.” He lifted an edge of cheap nylon carpet to reveal a dark stain ingrained in the lightwood flooring beneath. “She’d obviously lost a substantial amount of blood.”
He moved back into the centre of the room. “Finally I have this for you. Switch off the light behind you.”
Hunter reached behind him and pitched the room into semi darkness. Just a little daylight poked between the gaps in the heavy drapes.
“Remember when I showed you how fibres could be lit up by a light source when I examined the white Renault.”
Hunter and Grace nodded.
“As you know fragments of fibres are transferred when they come into contact with another surface and as I mentioned different fibres can give off different wavelengths which can be picked up by fluorescent lights. I already told you that we had the wavelengths of the fibres from the Asian rug because of its unique make-up.”
Hunter acknowledged again with a nod.
“Well this is what I’ve found.”
Duncan switched on a low voltage, hand-held fluorescent light and began scanning the carpet. As if by magic a line of bright blue fibres became distinguishable from the remainder of the room carpet. As he swept an area an oblong outline began to appear over the surface. “What would you say if I told you the perimeter of this is the exact same size as the rug Samia’s body was found in. In other words she was wrapped up in the rug, which once fitted in this exact spot.”