Taste of Blood

Chapter Twelve

Jane met Stanley in the canteen for breakfast. He had the forensics results on the bicycle pump: as expected, plenty of prints. They were now running the prints through records.

‘Don’t hold your breath, though,’ Stanley said. ‘Unless Boon or his wife have a police record.’

‘Let’s go and see what Mr Caplan makes of it, then,’ Jane said, picking up her tray.

At the house, they explained what they were going to do, re-enacting the scene of the incident.

They trouped into the garden and Stanley eased the bicycle pump out from under his coat with his back to David Caplan. He turned towards him, now holding the pump up in his right hand. He stepped forwards and raised his hand, swinging the pump.

‘That’s it, that’s exactly what I saw,’ Caplan said immediately. ‘I said it was black and shiny; where did you find it?’

Stanley handed it over and Caplan shook his head.

‘It’s a plastic bicycle pump, for God’s sake.’

‘It’s quite light,’ Stanley said. ‘But you wouldn’t know that unless you held it.’

Caplan handed it back. ‘My God, this is definitely what I saw Martin Boon swinging at me. I mean, if I’d known it was...’

Stanley nodded sympathetically. ‘Thank you, Mr Caplan.’

Back in the car, Stanley turned to Jane with a smile.

‘You in a better mood now?’

She nodded. ‘I’m really looking forward to interviewing Mr Boon. I’m certain Caplan is telling the truth. But I’d like to find out who replaced the pump on his bike; I suppose it had to have been his wife?’

‘Or one of the Larssons; they were in the garden as well. It’s also possible that the dog did pick it up and ran out into the courtyard with it, although there were no teeth marks.’

‘Either way, it was put back on the bike. Did it have a flat tyre?’

‘I’m not sure, but maybe Martin Boon was in his garage when he heard David Caplan admonishing the dog about digging up the garden.’

Jane parked in the station car park and Stanley went and put the pump back in the evidence lock-up. While typing out the report, Jane got a call from the front desk to say there was someone on the line for her. She asked for it to be put through to her desk phone without enquiring who it was, certain it was Eddie’s bloody controller at his mobile call centre.

‘DI Tennison,’ she said, curtly, into her phone.

‘Oh, I’m sorry to disturb you... I just wanted to ask you, er...’

‘Who is this?’

‘It’s Angelica Martinez. I got your number from Miss Brandon’s diary and, er... I hope this isn’t inconvenient. I was just wondering if there was any update?’

‘On what exactly?’

‘Well, you said you were doing an investigation at Clarendon Court. I was at my session with Vera James, and she said...’

‘I’m sorry, Miss Martinez, who is Vera James?’

‘The medium I go to. She said that perhaps my son was there; she was confident that there was a strong possibility... she has never been so adamant. I did tell her about you and that the police were investigating something to do with the neighbours.’

‘I am very sorry, Miss Martinez, but there is no connection to your son in my enquiries, so I can’t share any details about the investigation.’

There was a long pause before Jane heard what sounded like an intake of breath, then a deep sigh.

‘I see, thank you... I am sorry to have bothered you.’

Jane replaced the receiver, resting her hand on the cradle. Angelica Martinez had sounded so sad, and it annoyed her that this so-called medium was feeding the poor woman hope about her son turning up at Clarendon Court.

After the lunch break Jane had a meeting with DCI Hutton and explained about the discovery of the bicycle pump. Predictably, she didn’t see it as a major breakthrough. ‘We’ll see what Mr Boon has to say. In the meantime I’d like you to supervise two probationary officers’ reports and to review some other ongoing cases.’ She handed over the relevant files.

Returning to her desk, Jane was told that Stanley had left the station to meet with social services, who had been involved with Eric Donaldson.

On the way home Jane stopped at the corner shop and bought some fresh bread, butter, cheese, jam and a carton of milk. She parked outside her house, and then went next door. She had to wait a few minutes before Gerry answered and then held up the plastic bag containing her purchases.

‘I won’t disturb you, Gerry, but Eddie said your wife wasn’t well. I was doing some shopping for myself so I thought I’d buy you a few things to save you the bother.’

Gerry smiled wearily. ‘That’s very kind of you. I’m actually expecting someone from social services to come this evening. They help me dress her and get her ready for bed, and then they come early in the morning to get her up. She sleeps downstairs now. God bless our GP, he arranged it all for us.’

‘Well, I won’t disturb you. Please give Vi my best wishes.’

‘I will... and you’ve got a good chap, you know He was round earlier this morning to clear my gutters... they’ve not been done for years.’

She smiled. ‘Oh, that’s good. Evening then, Gerry.’

Jane wanted to feel touched by Eddie going round there, but part of her was suspicious. She was irritated with herself for not running Brian Mitchell’s name through records, deciding she would definitely do so in the morning.

After changing into her old tracksuit, Jane looked around the kitchen for the medium’s card. She couldn’t find it anywhere, even checking the bins. She then thumbed through the phone directory but there was no Vera James listed. She also looked up ‘mediums’, but there was no Vera James amongst the few that were advertised.

It was almost nine when Eddie arrived carrying a big bunch of roses and a pizza.

‘I am sorry about last night. You were right. I was a dumb bastard for driving home pissed. I promise you I won’t screw up like that again.’

Instantly she softened. Sometimes he was so sweet. She took the flowers as he kissed her. While she put them into a vase, Eddie made a pot of tea, heated plates in the oven and then sliced the pizza between them.

‘Just what I needed,’ Jane said as she finished hers off.

‘I took Gerry a few things earlier, and he told me about the gutters. He said I’d got a good chap.’

Eddie laughed. ‘Well, I’ve cleared some of it, but the pipes are cracking and some of the joints were broken, so it’s going to take a bit of work to sort out.’

‘You remember the other night when you found that card from the medium?’ Jane said. ‘You don’t know where it is, do you?’

Eddie took their plates to the sink and moved aside the soap dispenser, then held up the card.

‘I stuck it here... what do you want it for?’

‘Oh, I got this call from the woman who gave it to me. She sounded so sad, I just wondered if this medium was conning her out of her money. I tried to find her in the phone directory but she wasn’t listed.’

Eddie grinned as he passed it to her.

‘Thinking of paying her a visit, are you?’

Jane glanced at the card and slipped it into her pocket.

Eddie got up.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To have a shower and wait for you. This is a rare night we’re both home early, so don’t make any excuses.’

Jane laughed and chased after him, running up the stairs behind him. They showered together before they were wrapped in each other’s arms under the duvet. Jane had no thoughts of the talk she had been wanting to have; instead it felt as if they were back in love. She was naked and curled up with his arms around her, loving the way their bodies entwined when they slept.

The following morning he kissed her and whispered that it was time for him to get up and get off to work, and that he was sorry to have woken her.

Jane stayed in bed but was unable to get back to sleep. She got up and put on her dressing gown as he finished dressing and walked out of the bathroom.

‘You want me to bring you up a cup of tea?’

‘No, I’m going to fill up the washing machine and do a bit of housework. Are your dirty clothes in your work clothes basket?’

‘No, I left a load at Mum’s... I might be late tonight... love you.’

Jane leaned on the banister and watched him hurry down the stairs. He didn’t look back as he left the house. She went into the bathroom to collect her tracksuit and underwear from the previous night, then picked up the laundry basket. Only then did she hesitate, realising that he had not been wearing his work clothes last night, nor had he left for work that morning in his usual old jeans and sweatshirt. She picked up his discarded shirt and underwear from the bathroom floor and stuffed them into the basket. She was about to put her jacket into the basket when she remembered the medium’s card and took it out.

There was no address on the card, just a phone number below her name. Jane returned to the bedroom to strip the bedding, putting the card on her bedside table before removing the duvet cover. It was a job she hated, but at least she used a local laundry firm to wash it all. She took out the clean bedding ready to make up the bed.

Before leaving the house, Jane checked in the understairs cupboard where she had left the bag with Eddie’s money from the sale of his flat. It wasn’t there. Jane went into the kitchen and opened the drawer in which Eddie kept his work file containing his receipts, plus jobs he had lined up. It wasn’t there. Jane slammed the drawer shut.

The laundry was closed and she had to wait fifteen minutes before it opened at eight fifteen. Once she had dropped off the laundry, Jane drove to the station. Before looking at her desk diary and the schedules on the board, she took out the card and dialled Vera James’s number. The phone rang for a while before it was answered.

‘Hello?’ The high-pitched voice sounded like a young girl.

‘Hello, I would like to make an appointment with Vera James.’

‘Hold on...’ Jane heard the same voice shouting.

‘Mum... Mum, it’s for you... I’m gonna be late.’

Jane waited a moment before she heard another voice.

‘Go and get in the car. Did they say who they were?’

There was another short pause, before Jane heard the woman’s voice on the phone.

‘Hello, can I help you?’

‘Yes, I would like to make an appointment to meet Vera James, please.’

‘Who am I speaking to?’

‘My name is Jane Tennison.’

‘This is a very inconvenient time.’ She paused. ‘Did someone suggest you call me?’

‘Yes, they did.’

‘I see. Well, I operate in the afternoons, from twelve until four. As a new client you will need to pay for an introductory session. Could you call back later to book an appointment? Thank you.’

The call was ended so Jane replaced the receiver. If that was Vera James, she thought, she didn’t sound very professional. Lost in thought, she hardly noticed when Stanley came over to her desk and started a long moan about his time-wasting visit to social services the previous afternoon.

‘Stanley, can you give me a break? I’m not in the mood, and I need to see what I have lined up for today.’

‘Excuse me! We need to get over to the hospital to interview Mr Boon. Do you have a specific time that suits you?’ he asked sarcastically.

Jane sighed. ‘No, sorry, just not had a good morning. Whenever is fine with me.’

‘You seem to be having quite a few of them.’

‘What?’

‘Nothing... Let’s get on to the hospital.’

Jane called the hospital, then walked over to Stanley’s desk.

‘We might have a problem about talking to Martin Boon. Apparently, Mr Boon is scheduled for a lot of tests today before he is discharged. I’d say our best bet is to wait until he’s home to question him, along with his wife.’

Stanley swivelled round in his desk chair to face her.

‘Anything else?’

Jane hesitated for a moment. ‘There is something, actually. Could you run a Brian Mitchell through records to see if he has any previous? He’s in the property business and I’d say he’s about late thirties. I’d prefer not to do it as it’s sort of personal.’

‘Sure... everything all right between you and Eddie?’

‘It was last night. This morning I’ve been feeling uncomfortable about some things, but I could be wrong.’

Returning to her desk, Jane finished going through the probationary officers’ reports before Hutton gave her another assignment.

Later in the morning Stanley was called out to investigate a possible suspicious death, and after lunch Jane called Vera James again. The phone rang for a considerable time before it was answered by the same woman she had spoken to earlier.

‘Hello, I called you earlier this morning.’

‘Oh right, and your name was?’

‘Jane.’

‘You said you were recommended, is that right?’

‘Yes, by Angelica Martinez.’

‘There will be an introductory session for about twenty minutes, but that will depend on whether you want further answers, and the direction and kind of comfort you need.’

‘Are you available to see me this afternoon?’

‘Well, you’ll have to let me check my appointments diary. Can you hold on for a moment?’

Jane waited for a lot longer than a moment before she was told that if she could be there in forty-five minutes then she could be seen, but if not then it would have to be the following week.

With nothing more important to do, Jane couldn’t wait to leave the station. The address she was given was in Swanley and Jane calculated that she could easily make it in time. One thing she found strange was that Vera James never mentioned her fees.

It was early afternoon and there was not much traffic. Driving around Swanley’s town centre, she headed out towards a more rural area, dominated by large detached houses with neat lawns.

Jane parked behind a Volkswagen and walked up the drive. She rang the doorbell and waited. She was about to press it again when the door was opened by a middle-aged woman wearing a trouser suit with a pink blouse.

‘You are a wee bit early, but do come in.’

Jane was ushered into a small sitting room containing a sofa, two matching chairs and a coffee table stacked with old magazines. The fitted floral carpet was extremely bright and the curtains were partly drawn, with a fake log fire and marble surround.

‘I’m Jane Tennison.’

‘How do you do, dear. I won’t be a moment; I just need to get the appointments diary and the questionnaire.’

‘Are you Vera James?’

‘Oh no, I’m Sandra, her daughter. I handle the appointments. I have to tell you that she was not very happy about me making time for you. We had a cancellation, so I thought it would be all right. She gets very tired, so only does a few sessions a week, just for two afternoons. I won’t be a moment.’

Jane sat in one of the easy chairs and flicked through one of the magazines. There was a lingering smell of fried food.

Sandra returned with a large red diary with a single sheet clipped to the front. She sat down opposite Jane, clicking a biro.

‘Now, you said you were recommended?’

‘Yes, by Angelica Martinez; she spoke very highly of your mother.’

‘I’m sorry, what was your name again?’

‘Jane Tennison.’

‘Right. I probably should have mentioned the fees to you, but I was in such a hurry this morning to get my daughter to school. Right, the charge for the first session is fifteen pounds and then any further appointments are a flat rate of ten pounds. Cash is preferable and payment is due before the sessions. Now, if you could just complete the questionnaire — and obviously we keep any information completely confidential.’

Sandra passed Jane the sheet of paper and the biro.

‘I won’t be a moment, she knows you are here.’

The sheet had Jane’s name misspelled at the top, and then spaces for her address and contact number, her age, employment, marital status and any recent bereavements. There were also questions about medical conditions and related medication.

Jane took only a minute to fill in the questionnaire. She wrote down her employment as ‘Officer’. Sandra returned and took the page from her, and Jane handed her fifteen pounds in cash.

‘I’ll give you a receipt before you leave. I won’t be a moment.’

That seemed to be her standard sentence. Jane had been taken aback at the cost; fifteen pounds seemed like a lot of money. She wondered how Angelica Martinez could afford it, but then she didn’t know how often she came. Sandra returned, and ushered her towards the stairs. There was a chair-lift on the ground, and the stairs were carpeted in the same garishly patterned fitted carpet. Sandra led Jane along the landing to the end door; she knocked and then opened the door wider for Jane to enter.

‘This is Jane Tennison.’

As Sandra closed the door behind her, Jane quickly took in the room. The walls were lined with photographs and framed letters, and there were numerous bookshelves. A green velvet-covered chaise longue with embroidered cushions dominated one side of the room and there was a small, carved card table with a green velour top. A small tape recorder sat on the table, along with a notepad and pencil and Jane’s completed questionnaire. There were two hard-backed chairs with velvet-covered seats. One was drawn out, and standing with her hand on the back was Vera James.

‘Do come in and sit down, Jane. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting; nowadays I find it too exhausting to have quite so many sessions. To be honest with you, I was quite thankful to have a cancellation.’

She sighed and raised her eyes to the ceiling. Jane reckoned she was in her late seventies, but she was still a very striking woman, with large, ice-blue eyes highlighted by a lot of black eyeliner. Her white hair was caught up in a loose bun at the nape of her neck and tied back with a black ribbon.

Vera was wearing a cream kaftan with wide sleeves. She was rather overweight and pulled her kaftan up to ease into the chair. Jane could see that her ankles were swollen and her plump feet were squeezed into old, worn slippers.

‘Now, before I start, have you ever been to a medium before?’

‘No.’

‘Well, I’ll keep it brief. Basically, I am in contact with those from the other side. They come forwards and pass messages through me. I will make a tape recording of each session, which is included in the cost, and if at any time you find what I am passing on to you upsetting, or you wish me to stop, just say so. I am not here to make you emotionally distressed or to upset you in any way. I only try to give you comfort and perhaps a way forward.’

Vera finished her sales pitch and then checked the tape recorder, clicking the lid open and checking the tape had not been used. She had arthritic knuckles and chipped, pink-painted nails.

‘I always have to check these things for myself. Sandra gets run ragged with her teenage kids. She’s a single mother taking them here, there and everywhere. She brought my lunch late today...’

Vera delved into a pocket of the kaftan and pulled out a pair of large, blue-framed glasses with one arm broken. She didn’t put them on but used them like bifocals, holding them up to her eyes to remove something from the tape.

‘Right... I only had a quick glance at your questionnaire... you put as your employment “Officer”. Would that be a police officer?’

Jane leaned forwards. ‘Well, yes. It might seem as if I’m here under false pretences, but I wanted to explain to you in person.’

Vera inserted the tape and put her broken glasses back in her pocket. She then pulled back the cuff of her left sleeve and squinted at a large man’s wristwatch.

‘You have paid for twenty minutes with me, love, so whatever your reasons for coming, I suggest you try and explain as quickly as you can.’

Jane was taken aback at the way Vera’s icy blue eyes suddenly stared hard at her.

‘You were recommended by a lady called Angelica Martinez.’

‘Listen to me, dear, if you are asking me for any personal information about Miss Martinez, you won’t get it. I keep my clients’ business highly confidential, just like a doctor or a priest. And if you are here officially as a police officer, then you’ll need a warrant.’

‘I appreciate that, and I am not here on a police matter. I am simply here because I found Angelica Martinez to be such a sweet woman, and her desperation to be reunited with her son is wretchedly sad.’

Vera pointedly looked at her wristwatch again.

‘She told me you have given her hope. It was pure coincidence that I found out she had previously owned the property where I am presently investigating a case, one that has nothing to do with her and...’

Vera sighed, pursing her lips and closing her eyes.

‘Listen to me, dear. I get the impression that you somehow think that I am — for want of a better word — “conning” her. Nothing could be further from the truth.’

Vera leaned forwards, tapping the table with her hand.

‘Sometimes they do not come forwards, from which I infer that they have not gone to the other side. Angelica Martinez lives in hope because I cannot bring him forwards.’

‘She believes she will find him at her old home.’

Vera shook her head and sighed.

‘You have to understand that when they cross over and their spirits come to me, I see nothing physical, just...’ She stopped and closed her eyes for moment as if deep in thought, then reached for the notepad and pencil and started writing. She seemed to be concentrating hard.

‘Right now, I have an initial M, water, very young and unable to breathe, which suggests a drowning.’

Jane sat straight-backed in her chair. She felt a chill come over her.

‘He is giving me a sign that he is very happy, and I think he is holding a fishing rod; he wants you to know that no one’s to blame for what happened.’

Jane could not believe it. Her little brother was called Michael and he had drowned in the neighbours’ pond. Her parents hardly ever talked about the tragedy, but the sense of loss had always been present growing up, even though Jane had never known him.

Vera put down her pencil.

‘So, dear, does this mean anything to you? If it does, make sure you let them know he is happy and tell them not to feel guilty about what happened.’

Jane was seriously shaken. There was no way that Vera could have known about her brother. She had never even told Eddie. The truth was that she rarely, if ever, even thought about him. She wanted to ask more questions, but Vera had pushed back her chair and was leaning on the table to help herself stand.

‘Before you go, I’ll tell you something I have not told Angelica because I believe she has to have hope that she will find her son. I tasted blood in my mouth when Angelica first came to see me. He did not come forwards and never has, but it is the sign of death.’

Vera opened the door, calling out for Sandra as she walked out and entered the room next door. Jane was feeling quite faint as Sandra came running along the corridor.

‘Oh, I’m glad you’re finished. I have to collect my daughter and I need you to move your car, I’m afraid.’

She turned back and hurried down the corridor and down the stairs with her car keys in her hand. Opening the front door, she waited for Jane to pass her and then followed her out, slamming the door shut behind her.

‘I hope it went well for you,’ she said, getting into her car. All Jane could manage was a polite smile. She rummaged in her handbag for her car keys, and found her hands were shaking. She reversed out of the drive and Sandra followed. As she drove off, she realised Vera hadn’t given her the tape. But there was no way she was going back to ask for it.

Jane drove back to the station as if on autopilot, while what Vera had told her went round and round in her head. As she drew up, Stanley was about to get into his car. He hurried over and opened her driver’s door.

‘Where the hell have you been?’

‘You wouldn’t believe it. I’m not sure I believe it myself.’

‘Well, the headmistress was asking for you, so I covered and said you had gone to the hospital to get more details about Martin Boon’s recovery. I’ve been out most of the day on this suspicious death; you won’t believe what the consensus was after dicking around for hours. This old boy had a heart attack as he was having a bowl of soup; fell face-forwards and bloody drowned.’

Stanley laughed as he delved into his jacket pocket.

‘I was going to drop this round to you as I’m off home. Is this the right Brian Mitchell?’

Stanley opened the folded page to show a printed copy of a mug shot.

Jane took it. ‘Yes, that’s him.’

‘It’s a few years old, there’s nothing recent, but he did time for fraud; one of those bastards that sell holiday vacation homes to pensioners, then all they get is a piece of waste ground.’

She closed her eyes and Stanley leaned further into the car.

‘You OK?’

‘Not really, but thanks for this. I think I might head home.’

‘Martin Boon was released an hour ago. Shall we call on him first thing in the morning?’

Jane nodded. ‘Meet you for breakfast. Thanks again for this.’ Jane waved the Brian Mitchell printout as Stanley closed the door and then gave the car roof a friendly tap.

Stanley watched her drive away. He had never been someone to get involved in other people’s business, especially work colleagues, but he could tell she was troubled. He assumed the lowlife Brian Mitchell was connected to her boyfriend, which was obviously not good news. He tried to put these thoughts out of his mind as he got in his car to go and collect his daughter from her dance class.