by Wonny Lea
Martin quickly dismissed that theory, as taking in the complete images of the kitchen he knew that there had been no struggle and the sandal would simply have been displaced when the leg fell to the floor. How could Mark have been persuaded to lie on what was virtually a kitchen table seemingly of his own free will? It was more likely he was under threat and probably terrified.
Questions and random answers raced through Martin’s mind and he was moving over to the pictures of the lounge, when Matt Pryor walked towards him, reeling off a string of messages.
‘Just heard that all but one of the people for interview have arrived, and Prof. Moore has made a start on the post-mortem, requesting we leave him to get on with it and he will let us know when he is ready to answer questions. He’s got his most miserable face on this morning but if he gets interested in the findings of the PM his mood will improve, so staying out of his way for now is best for all concerned.’
‘I totally agree,’ responded Martin. ‘In any event, it’s the way I planned to work, and although I am not hopeful of getting anything new from the interviews we have the advantage of the preliminary statements. And at least we can look out for any anomalies.’
Matt looked intently at his boss. ‘Don’t think any of them could have done this, do you? It would take some bottle to butcher your friend or neighbour and then turn up on his doorstep probably within the hour pretending to expect an evening of wine and song.’
‘No, I don’t think any of the women killed Mark, and what possible motive would his Turkish neighbours have? No, I guess these interviews will just serve to give us a better picture of the victim, and with any luck they’ll give us some new avenues to explore. Later today I also need to get back to Whitchurch as there are a few more things I would like to talk through with Mark’s adoptive parents.’
‘I spoke to Helen Cook-Watts just now and she told me about your visit to the Hardings’ home. It’s obviously made a lasting impression on her and she’s keen to stay involved with them, if it’s possible for her to be allocated as their liaison officer. She’s good. I see a bright future for that young lady.’
Martin laughed. ‘Is that purely a professional opinion, Detective Sergeant Pryor, or do I detect a more personal interest?’
‘I normally respect and admire your skills of detection, guv, but on this one you are way off the spot,’ Matt responded. ‘Have to admit though, there aren’t many female officers capable of turning their institutional uniform into such a shapely outline …’
Both men walked in companionable silence towards the interview rooms and put on the professional faces required for what was going to be hours of painstaking interrogation.
Abdi Nicanor was sitting adjacent to a police constable in the first of a block of four interview rooms and at first the two detectives were hard pushed to recognise him. Gone was the unruly, flyaway grey hair – that was now flattened with some sort of gel and was sleek and shiny. The floral open-necked shirt had been replaced – Abdi now wore a cream turtle-neck cotton sweater and brown trousers. Martin had a mental image of Mrs Nicanor determining what she considered to be a suitable image for her husband to portray during his meeting with the police, but it was clear that Abdi did not feel comfortable with her choice.
He shifted nervously in his chair and for all the world gave the appearance of a guilty man, but experience told Martin that although at this stage he was a suspect, it was more likely that his nervousness stemmed from a lifetime of carefully avoiding any contact with officialdom. Martin knew very little of the ways of the police force in Turkey, but one of the secretaries who worked in Goleudy had been arrested in Ankara about ten years ago and told horror stories of the eleven nights she spent in a shared cell. She had been completely innocent – in her case it was mistaken identity – but that had not stopped her being locked up, and it was only with the intervention of the British Embassy that she had been released.
Perhaps Abdi thought he was about to be locked up, and Martin, remembering the ‘innocent until proved guilty’ code, did his best to make Abdi feel more at ease in a situation that by necessity had to be formal.
The police constable rose and moved to the back of the room as Matt sat down and adjusted the recording equipment, explaining to Abdi that there would need to be a record of the interview.
‘I didn’t be doing nothing wrong.’ Abdi’s voice was wobbly. ‘My wife, she says I should not have broken down Mark’s door and gone in his house, but how I know what was there?’
Martin interrupted what he suspected could be Abdi’s lengthy protestation of innocence and justification for his actions of the previous evening.
‘No one is suggesting that you did anything wrong, Mr Nicanor, and indeed on the face of it your actions in entering Mark’s house are likely to have prevented a fire and the possible destruction of vital evidence, so please try and relax and just take us step by step from the time you became aware that something was wrong next door.’
These comments obviously hit the spot, and in seconds and in his own mind Abdi went from being the stupid old man that his wife now considered him to be, to a potential local hero, and he visually relaxed and even plumped up his chest a little.
After switching on the tape and going through the usual spiel of date, time, and names of people present, Matt nodded to his DCI and Martin took up the questioning.
‘What first prompted you to think something was wrong at Mark’s house?’
‘I hear girls screaming, shouting “Mark, Mark,” lots of times, and they bang on the door a lot and it very loud, they not loud before, always quiet.’
‘At what time was that?’ asked Martin.
‘We leave home of my wife sister at eight o’clock and walk is only about twenty minutes but I not very sure of proper time,’ responded Abdi.
‘Were you in your house when you heard the girls?’
‘No, I hear them when we walk up hill and I tell Mrs Nicanor go in house and I will see if any trouble and girls tell me Mark not answering door and they still shout and shout.’
‘What happened then?’ prompted Matt. ‘What made you break the door down?’
‘Paula, she is the one I see the most, and she looked through letterbox and say she see smoke so the house could be on fire and Mark still inside. So I get hammer from my house and hit the lock. It break the door more than I thought, but I see smoke so I go inside. I am inside Mark’s house before so I know where kitchen is and smoke was from kitchen so I went there.’
It was obvious from Abdi’s expression that he was now reliving the horror of what he had seen and everyone waited patiently for him to regain his composure.
‘In your own time,’ encouraged Martin. ‘Just tell us exactly what you did next.’
‘Smoke was coming from cooker and I turn it off and open oven door but hot smoke come straight to my face and I go backwards and bump into Mark’s leg on the floor.’ Abdi struggled and only just managed to continue. ‘But … but Mark, he was not on the floor, he on the table, and I feel very sick it was so … so terrible. What happened to him it is so terrible?’
‘That’s what we are trying to find out,’ responded Martin. ‘Anything you can tell us, no matter how small, will help us put the pieces together.’ Martin cursed inwardly at his inadvertent pun, and he was suddenly glad of Abdi’s inexpert grasp of English.
‘I clumsy and bash into table thing and break two dishes and spoil Mark’s cakes.’ Suddenly Abdi took control of himself and almost shouted. ‘You not be able put Mark’s pieces back together, but you catch evil swine who did this to my neighbour – to my friend.’
The look on Abdi’s face and the venom with which he spat out that last sentence caused both Martin and Matt to take a fresh look at him. Up to now they had been aware of a neighbour who had attempted to come to the rescue of a friend. But he had used brute force to enter the house, and in doing so had provided just cause for his foot- and fingerprints being on the surfaces in the kitchen.
It was certainly not unheard of for a killer to cover his tracks with that type of pre-arranged action, but was this man clever enough to have thought that one through? And, in any event, what possible motive could Abdi have for murdering the man next door? Well, if there was a motive, it would come out in the enquiries, but for now Martin put this possibility on the back burner and asked Abdi to complete his version of events.
‘When I know Mark is dead I be sure that ladies not see him and they come down the hall and I shout to make them go not in the kitchen – I shoo them out and say we tell police Mark is dead. Paula she wants to send ambulance but I say no, send police and we stay outside for police and they come soon.’
‘Did you see anyone else around the house while you and the girls were standing outside?’ asked Matt. ‘Did you notice anyone taking a particular interest in what was going on?’
Abdi said he had not noticed anyone in particular, although lots of people had crossed the road to look and some asked what all the fuss was about. He commented that after the police had arrived, lots more people had gathered outside, and added that this morning there was a large group of people mainly from newspapers and television standing around the house.
Realising that there was nothing more to be gained from questioning Abdi about recent events, Martin went on to ask about the relationship between the two men and learned that when Mark moved in about five years ago it had been Abdi’s wife who, apparently in accordance with Turkish custom, had knocked on his door and offered him cake and honey. The neighbours shared a common interest in cooking, but that was as far as it went and when asked to recall Abdi thought that he had probably only been in Mark’s house a handful of times, and Mark had visited them just three or four times.
He knew that Mark had adoptive parents who lived in Whitchurch and visited quite often, but all he knew about Mark’s real family was that he had one sister but was not in touch with her.
He could think of no one who would want to kill Mark, and with no further questions Matt switched off the tape, with the usual formalities, before thanking Abdi for his cooperation and allowing him to leave.
Matt showed Abdi to the front desk and then returned to find Martin still sitting in the interview room staring at a blank wall. He deposited two cardboard cups of coffee on the table, suggesting they both needed a caffeine boost.
‘What did you make of that?’ asked Martin still staring at possibly an image that was invisible to anyone but him.
‘Well, they say it’s the quiet ones we need to watch and my initial opinion of Mr Nicanor was that he was a quiet, unassuming sort of man, but he nearly hit a boiling point back there and I for one wouldn’t like to be around if he really erupted.’
‘Yes, I got the impression that there is more to Abdi Nicanor than meets the eye, but I keep asking myself what possible motive could he have for killing Mark. There doesn’t seem to be one, and there is no doubt in my mind that this killer was making some sort of statement – but what, and why, I just don’t know yet.’
For a few moments both men drank their coffee and gathered their thoughts and then Martin asked Matt to run through any possibilities, no matter how off the wall.
‘Let’s assume for a moment that Abdi killed Mark. He would have had no problem in gaining access as Mark knew him and would have let him in – probably even welcomed him if the neighbourly friendship thing is to be believed.’
‘The destruction in the lounge must have been done first, as apparently there’s no blood anywhere, and a clean knife was used to slit the sofa. But why didn’t Mark stop him? Or maybe he was already dead and his body lying on the kitchen table, awaiting the final acts of mutilation?’
Martin wanted to ask a question but set it aside and allowed his DS to continue speculating.
‘Then there are the papers that were in the fireplace, and although there is little left of them, Alex and his lot have identified Mark’s birth certificate and are working on the remnants of one other official-looking document. With what little we know so far I can’t link those up to Mr Nicanor, but who knows?’
‘Nicanor is no youngster, but he is sturdily built and I would imagine quite strong. But I would reckon Mark to have been at least as tall as I am, and not far off my weight, and I certainly wouldn’t be easily lifted on to that kitchen worktop.’
At this point Martin did interrupt. ‘I can’t see one man lifting Mark into that position, and there are two things that come to my mind. Either the killer had help, or Mark was forced to get himself into that position, possibly at knifepoint as knives seem to feature throughout this case.’
‘Give us a chance, boss, I was about to say exactly that. And then did he kill Mark first, or did he set about methodically chopping off limbs at random?’
‘If it was Abdi, it would have taken some sick guts to then leave this massacre and return a short while later as a potential rescuer and good Samaritan. However that would have covered his tracks, as I am sure you have already considered.’
‘Wouldn’t he have been covered in blood? And, anyway, wasn’t he supposed to be at some relatives’ house with his wife and family?’
Matt’s analysis of possibilities was now becoming just a series of ad hoc questions and Martin stored them away with his, own knowing that some of them would be answered over the next few hours through the process of interviews, SOC analysis, and the post-mortem findings.
An early lead would be essential, and Martin prayed for this, not wanting to have Sandy and Norman Harding going through the same hell with their son’s killing as Helen Philips was still enduring as a result of her husband’s unsolved murder.
‘I don’t expect the next few interviews to give us much more regarding the events of last night, but the three women may be able to fill in some background about Mark’s lifestyle – relationships, work, money, and all of that – and then I want you to check on the four of them and interview any witnesses who can prove they were where they say they were before arriving at Mark’s house.’ Martin was ticking off the small details that needed to be checked out, knowing that to take anything at face value could be to miss the vital clue to unlocking this crime – he was not going to let that happen.
As expected, the interviews with Suzanne and Anne had added little to the accounts given by Paula and Abdi Nicanor, but did confirm the exact sequence of events prior to his arrival on the scene.
Suzanne explained how she had been the first to arrive having been dropped off by her seventeen-year old daughter, who was on her way to visit friends and yes, Carla would be able to confirm that she and her mother had been together shopping since about two o’clock that afternoon.
As they had shopped and eaten in their local village, it was certain that any number of people would be able to supply them with an alibi for the hours preceding Mark’s murder, and although this would need to be checked out Martin was content that at least one person could be crossed off the list of potential killers.
When she had been dropped off, Suzanne had crossed the road to Mark’s house and told the detectives that she remembered being surprised to see the gate open but assumed that Anne had arrived before her and hadn’t closed it.
‘I knew it wouldn’t have been Mark or Paula as they are both a bit fussy when it comes to security, but Anne doesn’t tend to think much about that sort of thing, so I guessed she must have got there before me.’
Suzanne went on to say that she had carefully closed the gate and then rang the doorbell but had got no reply and finally she had called through the letterbox, but still nothing.
‘At first I thought I had got the date wrong, but I had heard someone in the café earlier talking about the Eurovision Song Contest so I knew it was the right night, and anyway when I looked through the letterbox I got the most delicious smell of baking, so I knew Mark must be there. I checked my watch and I can tell you that it was exactly two minutes to eight and so I knew that I was right on both the time and the date – not a date I will ever
forget.’
At this point of her interview Suzanne almost broke down and she asked a question that had obviously been troubling her. ‘If I had been able to get in then, would I have prevented Mark from being killed? It was at least ten minutes after I went to find the others and before Abdi was able to break the door down.’
Martin was quick to reassure her. ‘We estimate that by then Mark had been dead for a while, possibly as much as an hour – there would have been nothing you could have done for your friend so please don’t torture yourself on that account. What happened next?’
‘I got a feeling that something was not right and I used my phone to call Mark’s mobile, but when I listened at the door I couldn’t hear it ringing inside so I decided to go and find Paula – I know she lives within walking distance and would be on her way. As it happens as soon as I went back out through the gate I looked down the hill and could see Paula in the distance so I walked down to meet her.’
At this point Suzanne and Paula’s recollection was exactly the same, as they both remembered walking back up the hill together and causing a bit of a rumpus by hammering on Mark’s door and calling out in an attempt to get his attention.
‘When did Anne arrive?’ asked Matt.
Suzanne thought for a moment and then replied that it must have been almost immediately and she thought it was even before they had started banging and shouting, so yes, she must have come in straight behind them.
When Anne was questioned she concurred that she had arrived just a few moments behind Suzanne and Paula, as when she had crossed the road she had seen her two friends going through the gate.
All versions of the events that followed matched in every detail and after the interviews had been completed DS Pryor ensured that the tapes were numbered and took them to Incident Room One for safekeeping.
