“I am waiting,” said Collins.
Aisha folded her arms and looked down to the surface of her desk. “He used the back door.”
“Miss Nuaimi,” Collins sounded very impatient. “Are you telling me this unknown man had anal sex with Alice against her will?”
“I’m not saying it was rape, but Alice made it quite clear she had said she didn’t want to do it, but he took advantage of the position they were in.”
“So she did not consent to it?”
“No, but she did not try to stop him either. I think that is what was troubling her. ‘I felt violated’ is how she worded it.”
“Do you think this event was depressing Alice?”
“Combined with her problems with her apartment, maybe it was, yes. We never had the laugh we usually have, that was for sure.” Her eyes flicked up to her right. That means she’s constructing, thought Collins, as Aisha continued to talk. “I suggested she should seek professional help. Alice said she would, but I don’t know if she actually did contact someone. I had said a rape support group might be a good starting point.”
“What did you have to eat that lunchtime?”
Looking surprised at the question, Aisha took a few seconds to answer. “Umm, a tuna ciabatta with mayo and salad I think.”
“And what did you have to drink?”
“I usually have a mocha if they do them. Yes they did, that’s what I had.”
“Do you happen to remember what Alice had to eat and drink?”
Collins watched her eyes flick up to her left as she tried to visually recall what Alice ate that day.
“Like me, she had a ciabatta, but I can’t remember what she had in it. I guess she had a cappuccino, that’s what she usually had, but I can’t be sure.”
“Did either of you have anything else to eat?”
“Yes, they had a big chocolate gateau on display, it looked so nice we both had a slab each.”
“Did you just get a picture of that gateau in your mind?”
“Yes, I did. Why do you ask?”
“I was just curious. Now tell me, do you think Alice was comfort eating?”
“Comfort eating? Sorry, I don’t understand the question,” said Aisha, with a furrowed brow.
“Oh nothing really, it’s just that people who are stressed tend to comfort eat, whereas people who are depressed tend not to each much at all. One of the things I am trying to do with everyone I am talking to is to build up a picture of Alice’s frame of mind during the time leading up to her death.” He watched Aisha’s eyes drop down to her left. Interesting, Collins thought, maybe there is something in all this stuff after all.
“Right you are then, I think that’s me done, unless you have anything else you want to tell me Miss Nuaimi.”
“No, except to say that I am shocked by the whole thing, why commit suicide? With help Alice would have got over it in time.”
“WPC Armstrong, would you stay here and take a statement from Miss Nuaimi? It just needs to outline what she has just told us. I need to go and see my new friend Mr Ahmed at the Saudi embassy. Perhaps he will know whom Alice travelled to Spain with. Once you’ve finished up here, would you mind picking me up at the embassy?”
“No sir. Will we be going back to the station after that?”
“Who knows where the trail will lead from there?”
When Collins walked out of the stairwell exit into the underground car park he was relieved to see the squad car parked only nine parking bays away. He fished a biscuit out of his pocket and popped it in his mouth.
Moments later he was settling into the passenger seat.
“Sir, just before we set off, can I ask you something?” said Armstrong.
“You can, but only if I have the option not to answer if I choose.”
“Why did you let Aisha Nuaimi carry on thinking Alice’s death was a suicide when you clearly don’t think it was?”
“If she wants to play games, then I am happy to play games. My judgement was that there was nothing to be gained from opposing her suicide theory; she would not have told us anything different. So what was the point?”
“Games, you think she was playing games?”
“She was definitely playing games, but why is what I need to know. Chocolate gateau.”
“What about chocolate gateau?”
“Did you see an image of a chocolate gateau? Or did you hear Aisha Nuaimi saying those two words?”
“I heard her saying the words. Why?”
“And when you were bringing up your two kids, did you listen to radio plays while doing the ironing or other household chores?”
“Yes I did, but what’s that got to do with chocolate gateaux?”
“A psychologist friend of mine lent me a CD on what are called representational systems. Some people are auditory, some visual, some kinaesthetic, etcetera. It also talks about what are called eye accessing cues, you can tell if people are recalling or constructing, depending on which way their eyes flick when they are talking to you. I tried some of it out on our friend Aisha earlier. It seems that you and I are auditory, which means we are good at listening to people telling us a pack of lies.”
“Was she really lying? I picked up the on the bit about Alice eating a lot over lunch, which you suggested a suicidal person would not do, but was all of it lies?”
“No, I’m exaggerating, but she was constructing some of the story about Alice being buggered. Maybe she thinks it was suicide so embellished that bit to fit with the suicide theory. Still, who knows, it could have been the basis of an argument with the man from Spain, and therefore the cause of a tussle that led to a fall one way or another.”
“Was another trip to the embassy worthwhile?”
“Yes it was.”
Armstrong waited for Collins to say more, but he signalled it was time to go by clunking his seatbelt buckle into its slot. Armstrong slowly reversed the car out of the extremely narrow parking space.
Once they were up the ramp and out into daylight Armstrong asked: “Where to now then?”
“Back to the station. I want to do a bit of research on Dr Hasem Al Saeed Bin Hussain before I go and watch his eyes move.”
“Who?”
“The guy who Alice went to Spain with.”
“How do you know who she went to Spain with?”
“We’ve got Ahmed to thank for that, he’s such a nice bloke. If he wasn’t a Muslim I would invite him down the pub one night.”
“He might join you. I’ve got a couple of Muslim friends who go down the pub. They don’t drink alcohol, but they still like the social side of it.”
“They wait until they get home then,” chuckled Collins. “Sorry, that wasn’t too PC was it.”
“That’s life sir. Some Catholics use contraceptives, some Muslims drink alcohol, but that doesn’t mean they’ve lost their faith. You’re sitting next to a Methodist who shouldn’t touch the demon drink, but she does.”
“Tell me, why did a Methodist turn left at the last set of lights when an atheist would have gone right?”
“If I go right at the next lights, and right again, the traffic flows more freely than it does going the other way.”
“I see. Maybe I’m too used to drivers who put the blues on when the road gets congested.”
Armstrong laughed. “When was the last time you read the handbook sir?”
“When I needed to check how much air to put in the tyres.”
“Not that handbook you silly…” Armstrong pulled herself up. She thought she might be getting too familiar.
“Sir, tell me to keep my nose out of it if you like, but how did Ahmed know who Alice went to Spain with?”
“He didn’t, but he did recognise one of the five names of those people who flew both ways on the same flights as Alice.”
“Being a detective must be quite interesting. How does a WPC get into CID?”
“By walking before she tries to run, by being good at her job in uniform, and by att
ending the right courses. After that you have to get yourself a sixth month attachment to CID. Finally you have to pass the board.”
“Not straightforward then.”
“Nothing in the modern police service is straightforward. They appointed a load of administrators to give us all the time to do what the public expects us to do. And what do the administrators do? They justify their swivel chairs by creating us more bits of paper to fill in and requesting that we enter even more information onto their databases. The cheeky sods even try summoning you their offices when they want some information. Surely they should get off their backsides and come to us if they want something.”
“You’re not impressed then?”
“You’ll learn.”
“So who is this guy Hasem?”
“He’s a professor at the London School of Economics, specialising in the economics of countries in the Middle East. He also serves on government committees, offering his advice on matters Middle Eastern. Now if one puts two and two together, you get a triangle, three people all with a connection to politics in the Middle East. Now that could just be how it is. If a car salesman was shot dead then we would dig up friends and acquaintances that also worked in the auto trade. On the other hand, it could be a bit more than that. I have this little hunch that it was Hasem who slept in Alice’s bed on Tuesday night.”
“So he could have murdered Alice,” extrapolated Armstrong.
“Or at least had some connection to her death,” said Collins.
“Why am I not driving you to the LSE then?”
“As I say, I need to do my research, I need to be prepared; patience is a virtue. Remember that if ever you get as far as a CID interview panel. Lots of cases get chucked out of court due to hasty police work. I will make sure I get to him before the night’s out though. The less time you give people, the less time they have to make a false alibi watertight.”
“It’s going to be another late night for you then?”
“It’s got to be done. I always tell myself I will steal the time back when things are quiet, but I never do. Anyway, did Miss Nuaimi add anything to her statement that she didn’t say to me?”
“No sir. Except she gave me the location of the Costa Coffee they had lunch in the other week.”
“Do those places have CCTV?”
“I don’t know sir. Would you like me to check it out tomorrow?”
“No, I’ll have to send someone from my department. Probably a waste of time, though we might get something a lip reader could transcribe for us if we’re lucky.”
Armstrong decided it was time to stop asking questions and to continue to impress Collins with her knowledge of London’s streets. She turned left off the main road and into a housing estate.
It had just got dark when Collins pressed the front door bell on Hasem’s house in Wimbledon.
Hasem answered the door chewing and holding half a slice of French bread in his right hand.
“Sorry to disturb you so late.” He flipped open his warrant card.
“How can I help?”
“Are you Dr Hasem Al Saeed Bin Hussain.”
“You have not pronounced it correctly, but yes, I am.”
“I am sorry if I mispronounced your name sir. I will try to get it right next time,” said Collins, while thinking he would try to avoid referring to him by name again if at all possible. “The thing is, I need to talk to you.”
“Has it got to be now? Can it not wait?”
“No sir, it can’t wait.”
“You had better come in. Could you remove your shoes before you do?” He gestured towards a shoe rack just inside the front door.
“Certainly sir. Not a problem.” He reluctantly reached down and pulled each shoe off by the heel without undoing the laces. As he placed them on the top shelf of the shoe rack, Hasem closed the front door.
“We can talk here.” Hasem pointed to a small glass-topped table and two chairs to the right of the large hallway. A water feature trickled away on the other side. The marble floor tiles felt cold on Collins’ stocking feet.
“Thank you.” Collins took the seat facing the front door.
Hasem placed the other half of his piece of bread in his mouth and then sat down.
He was still chewing when he spoke. “Tell me, what brings you knocking at my front door?”
“Do you happen to know an Aisha Al Nuaimi at the Foreign Office?”
“No, my main contact at the FO is a lady called Brock. I think her first name is Angela. That is right, Angela Brock. Other than that I meet with junior ministers and senior civil servants over there.” He lifted his head arrogantly.
“By over there, you mean Westminster?”
“Sometimes, yes, but Whitehall is where most meetings take place.”
“But you do know a lady called Massima at the Foreign Office, do you not?”
“That is water under the bridge, and I do not intend to defend myself to you.”
Judging that he now had Hasem on the back foot, Collins asked: “Did you know Alice Evans?”
“Yes. Is that why you have interrupted my Iftar?”
“How well did you know Alice?”
“I was there Wednesday morning, that is how well.”
“Talk me through it. I know you were at work on Tuesday afternoon, a tutorial sessions with a group of undergraduates I believe. So take it from there would you?”
“After the tutorial I stayed on at work to write an appraisal of a draft government report. It related to how the pound would hold up against the currencies of the oil-producing nations in the Middle East if the US Dollar continued downwards to its projected bottom line. To be honest, I had missed the midday deadline on that, therefore I could not leave it until the next day. It had to be done before I could lock my office door.”
“Alice phoned me on my mobile just as I was going down the escalator at Holborn station. The call broke up, therefore I had to jump onto the up escalator, and phone her back when I got to the top. Alice was Alice, and though I was a bit reluctant, I eventually agreed to have a meal with her at a restaurant not far from Turnpike Lane tube station. It suited me because with it being Ramadam, I had fasted all day. I was in need of a good meal and appreciated the idea of not having to waste time preparing it. I tend to eat half the ingredients before they hit the pot.”
“We finished our meal, paid the bill, and jumped in a cab to her place. I knew that by agreeing to the meal I had effectively agreed to sleeping with her again. I did not fight it, I just let it happen.”
“You make it sound like some sort of hardship. Is that how you viewed it?”
“The five pillars of Islam Chief Inspector, I try to abstain from sex, especially during Ramadam. My problem is that I find it hard to abstain from it.” He ran a chain of beads through his fingers. “It was a silly thing to do. I had already ended it with Alice, and then I put myself through all that mental torture again. I don’t know why I even slept with her in the first place.”
“What did attract you to Alice?”
“I have asked myself that question many times, and though I am deeply ashamed to say it, I think it is because she laid it on a plate, and she was white.”
Collins raised his eyebrows and waited.
“I had never slept with a white woman before. My curiosity got the better of me.”
“Let me take you back to Tuesday night. When you got out of the taxi, who paid for it?”
“I did, it was eight pound something. I gave the driver a ten-pound note.”
“Did you go straight up to the apartment? Did anyone see you?”
“We went straight up in the smelly lift they have there. I don’t know if anyone saw us. You may well know the answer to that question better than I do.”
“And once you were inside the apartment, what happened then? What did you say to each other?”
“We did what couples who are about to have sex together do. We kissed, we embraced, we touched each other intimately. Alice u
ndid my tie and draped it over her shoulders. She then started to unbutton my shirt. How much detail are you expecting?”
“By your own admission you were in Alice’s apartment the morning of her death. I need to know every detail of what happened in that apartment, from the moment you arrived, to the moment you left.”
“But you haven’t asked me if I was responsible for Alice’s death.”
“Keep it chronological and we will get there. I like it when I hear the beginning before the end, not the other way round.”
“Okay,” Hasem breathed in deeply, and then slowly let the air out through his nostrils. “Alice started to unbutton my shirt, but I said I needed a shower. To which she made some comment about not showering with my clothes on. She undressed me, top to bottom. She even tried taking my trousers off while I still had my shoes on. She laughed all the way through the whole saga.”
“As I showered, I heard the R and B music go on. She has loads of R and B stuff, most of it either mildly suggestive or plain crude. I dried myself, wrapped the towel round my waist, and went to join her in the sitting room. Alice told me to remove the towel and sit down. That was another one of her things, she liked to dance while I watched.”
“How was she dressed at this stage?”
“Just as she was in the restaurant, white dress with a zip down the front and a narrow white leather belt around her waist, though maybe the zip was a little lower than it was in the restaurant. The rest of her attire matched the dress, white fishnets and white heels. The only thing she had on that was not white was the pink scarf she wore like a headband. I assume you found all this after her death?”
“We did, but carry on. No need for a blow-by-blow account of this bit, a general outline will do. I’ll ask if I need a bit more detail.”
“Watching her gyrate seductively and the music she was playing, had the desired effect. Any thoughts I had about calling a halt to proceedings evaporated into thin air. The truth is Chief Inspector, Alice had a stronger sexual appetite than most women and she knew exactly how to get what she wanted. In fact I would go as far as to say she enjoyed arousing men. Even the ones she had no intention of allowing into her… Well, you know what I am trying to say.”
“So she dragged you out to dinner, forced you back to her apartment and manipulated you into sitting naked in her armchair while she danced the dance of the seven veils for you. What happened next?” asked Collins sharply.
The Spanish Hotel Page 5
