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Chapter 19
Shona drove and Dan sat in the back of the Audi with Wazir in handcuffs. She angled her rear-view mirror to keep watch on him. Wazir slumped in the seat, staring out of the window as the rolling green landscape of Cumbria gave way to the big sky of the Solway and they crossed the border from England into Scotland. Dan was checking regularly on their charge, offering him wa
ter and a thumbs-up sign. Shona decided they would head to Dumfries’ Loreburn police station, where their arrival would cause less comment than at Cornwall Mount.
‘I’ll book him in,’ she said to Dan as they took their prisoner from the car. ‘All right, Mr Wazir, let’s go.’ She smiled politely. They took an arm each and guided the cuffed man through the door to the custody area. While they stood waiting for the sergeant to process their suspect, Shona leaned across to Dan and said quietly, ‘I’ve updated Murdo. He’s getting together everything they have on Sami Raseem. We’ll get started once the official translator and a solicitor get here.’
‘Sami is dead.’
Shona and Dan turned around, startled by the voice. Imran Wazir was looking at them sadly, his long body draped like rags over the coat hanger of his bones. ‘Sami is dead. You can’t ask me about Sami. They will kill me.’
‘Mr Wazir, I known Sami is dead, we found his body,’ Shona said, taking a step closer and gazing up at the anguished face. ‘I need your help finding his killer, or killers. Do you understand what I’m asking?’
He nodded solemnly. ‘I understand. I’m sorry I trick you. I thought you would just hand me over to the border police if I could not speak English. Just be another illegal to be sent away.’
‘Mr Wazir,’ Shona began, ‘I understand you are afraid, but your residency status is not my concern. Crimes of theft and killing are my concern. You help me and I can help you. While you’re in my custody, you have my word, no one will harm you.’
But Wazir just shook his head and stared at the ground. The custody sergeant, a burly man in his early fifties, was watching this exchange over half-moon glasses. He raised an eyebrow enquiringly at Shona.
‘This is Imran Wazir. I’ve arrested him for theft.’
‘Not often we get a DI in here, ma’am. Missing life on the streets?’ the sergeant said, tapping on his keyboard, his eyes on the screen.
‘I like to keep my hand in,’ replied Shona, deadpan.
‘Well, there’s a Rangers and Celtic game coming up. Fancy signing up for some overtime? Eight hours in the rain, with beer cans full of piss thrown at you?’
‘Aye, sounds grand, but I’ll pass on that.’ Shona turned back to her prisoner. ‘Mr Wazir, we’ll talk again in a minute. Think about what I’ve said. I can help you. The sergeant will ask you some questions. Would you like Shoku to translate for you?’
Wazir shook his head again. ‘No. Thank you. I understand.’
Dan took Shona aside. ‘What if he was the one who killed Sami?’ he asked.
‘If, at any point, it looks that way, I’ll stop the interview and arrest him for murder. We’d better take his clothes for forensics. Let’s just get him talking, part of him clearly wants to.’
Dan helped an officer bag Wazir’s clothes. Shona called DC Kate Irving over from HQ. When she arrived, it quickly became evident that she was expecting to conduct the interview on the suspect. Her face fell at Shona’s request to collect the clothing bags. Kate shot Dan a look of icy malevolence before stalking out of the custody suite and slamming the door. Shona felt a stab of guilt. It was Kate’s case; she had worked hard. But only Shona and Dan knew about the traffic camera photograph. She had to find out what Wazir knew about Sami Raseem, and by questioning him herself, Shona was protecting Kate from future comeback from DCI Baird. She had her best interests at heart, but she doubted her DC would see it that way. Shona pulled open the door and called her back. ‘Kate, a word.’
‘What?’ Kate looked surly and defiant.
‘Don’t dawdle with those forensics. I want you to draw up an interview strategy for Wazir. Keep it tight, just the baby milk thefts. You and Ravi will be handling this, I want you back here in an hour.’
‘Oh, okay,’ she said, brightening up. She was too pleased with the prospect to question Shona’s reasoning or even Ravi’s inclusion.
‘I need a quick word with Wazir first. Go on, get moving.’ Shona shooed her out of the building.
Wazir sat in the interview room wearing a grey sweatshirt and jogging pants. He turned the plastic cup of tepid black tea in slow circles. ‘You say you can help me. How?’ He studied Shona and Dan sitting across the table from him with a calculating look.
‘I will talk to the Procurator Fiscal’s office. In Scotland they decide what charges you’ll face, if any, based on the evidence the police put forward.’ Shona held out her hands, palms up. ‘But it’s like balancing a scale.’ She raised her left hand. ‘We have evidence against you that will lead to criminal charges and potentially imprisonment.’ Then she raised her right hand to the same level. ‘You help us to bring others to justice. If you’ve been a victim of human trafficking, if you’ve been threatened or made to do things against your will, we will protect and help you. That is the law in Scotland.’
‘You can judge a life that way?’
Shona folded her hands and rested her elbows. ‘I’m not here to judge your life. I’m here to find out how Sami Raseem died, bring closure to his family and friends, wherever they are, and see that those who are responsible pay for their crime.’ She took the speed camera photograph Dan had found from the file and placed it on the table. ‘You and Sami.’
For a moment Wazir stared at the picture in silence, before picking it up. He could deny it was Raseem. Identification linking this image with the post-mortem photographs would require expert witness testimony to persuade the fiscal, a long, difficult and expensive process. Shona held her breath. But the man before her didn’t deny it. Instead he pressed the picture to his chest and began to cry. He tipped back his head, his lips forming the words of a silent prayer as the tears ran back across his prominent cheekbones and into his cropped hair.
‘What will happen to his body?’ he said, rubbing at his tears.
‘It will stay in the mortuary until his family are contacted. If they can’t be found then the local council will arrange a funeral,’ Shona said softly.
