Taste of Blood

Chapter Thirteen

Jane stopped off to do some food shopping and was pulling up in front of her house when she saw the ambulance. Gerry was standing in the garden as his wife was being wheeled out on a stretcher by two paramedics. He gave her a sad smile, before entering the ambulance behind her.

After putting the groceries away and selecting what she would cook for dinner, Jane emptied the dishwasher. As she did so, she remembered what Eddie had said that morning. She rarely, if ever, called his mother but she was getting ready to confront him about everything and she needed to be sure.

‘Hi there, it’s Jane, just checking how you are doing?’

‘Oh, hello, dear. Well, I’m coping, but it’s very hard because it’s my right wrist and I can’t lift anything. I even find lifting the frying pan painful. And Eddie’s dad is no help, coming home expecting his dinner to be on the table.’

‘Eddie said he left his washing at your place.’

‘Oh no, I can’t do any ironing.’

‘He said it was his work clothes.’

‘No, we last saw him when I was at the hospital.’

‘Oh, I was just calling to say I could collect his clothes, and to see how you’re coping.’

‘I appreciate that, Jane, but we won’t be having our usual Monday dinners for a bit, I’m afraid, not unless we get a takeaway.’

‘Let’s just wait and see how you’re feeling. Bye for now.’

Jane replaced the receiver slowly, deep in thought, before going upstairs to shower and change. Sitting on the bed rubbing her hair dry with a towel, she thought about calling her parents. She could still not really believe what Vera had told her and wasn’t sure how she would open a conversation with them about Michael. Perhaps there would be a right time, but at the moment she was more focused on how she was going to deal with Eddie. She wanted to be ready to confront him and no roses were going to change her mind.

It was after eight and Jane had put on a cotton robe, dried her hair and even touched up her make-up. She was already on her second gin and tonic. She had been making notes on an old notepad she kept for shopping lists, similar to the way she briefed herself when about to do an interrogation.

Eddie arrived just after nine, hands held up in apology. He hung his jacket up in the hall before joining her in the kitchen.

‘Have you eaten?’ Jane asked.

‘Yep, had a kebab, but I’ll join you for a drink. Do you want a top-up?’

‘No, thanks. There’s beer in the fridge.’

Eddie opened the fridge and took out a beer, then opened a kitchen drawer to get a bottle opener. He flicked the bottle top into the sink and drank straight from the bottle.

‘You had a good day?’ Eddie asked.

‘Not bad. Sit down, I want to talk to you.’

He gave her a quizzical look as he pulled out a chair and sat opposite her. She had her notepad open and tapped the page with a pencil.

‘I need to ask you about a few things that have been worrying me. Clear the air.’

‘Fire away, I’m all ears.’

‘OK. For starters, you haven’t been wearing your work clothes when you leave in the morning. I asked you about washing, and you told me you had left your clothes with your mother. Tonight, I called her to check how she is coping with her wrist and asked if I could collect your washing. But she told me you hadn’t left it there. It’s been days since you wore your usual work overalls.’

Eddie shrugged and took another sip of his beer.

‘Why did you lie, Eddie? And if you haven’t been going to any of the building sites you’ve been working on, what have you been doing?’

‘Well, officer, I hired a couple more guys. I oversee how the jobs are going and then I meet up with Brian to check on properties that are up for probate... On a couple of mornings and afternoons I went to auctions.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me, Eddie?’

‘Brian’s just showing me the ropes, telling me what I need to look for when bidding. I didn’t mention it to you because when I showed you some properties you didn’t seem that interested. Then my mum had her accident, so we missed viewing a couple of properties that I’d earmarked.’

‘You know, Eddie, this is a really big decision; we’ve just got the house finished and, to be honest, the thought of moving into a run-down property and living there while you rip it apart with the intention of reselling it freaks me out.’

Eddie rocked back in his chair.

‘Added to that, we will obviously mostly be using the money we make from selling my house. I know you’ve sold your flat and you are being offered a lot of work, but income-wise we would also be dependent on my wages.’

Eddie put the beer bottle down on the table. Jane found it difficult to work out what he was thinking and stared at her notepad, tapping it with the pencil.

‘Right now, I cover all the utility bills, and I do most of the food shopping. My gut instinct is that perhaps now is not the time to stretch our finances. I wanted to look at the file we made for your business, but it’s not in the drawer. I also checked on the cash you’d left in the understairs cupboard, but you must have taken it?’

Eddie remained sitting, looking glum, one hand resting on his empty beer bottle.

‘Are you going to say anything?’

He looked away, clearly not wanting to meet her eyes.

‘And there’s something else. You are obviously seeing a lot of Brian Mitchell, and I have to be honest and tell you that I had a bad feeling when I met him.’

Jane flicked to the back of her notepad and took out the printout that Stanley had given to her. Unfolding it, with Mitchell’s mug shot on the first page, she passed it across the table.

‘You all done now, are you?’ Eddie said, gruffly.

‘Yes I am, but I’d like to know what you think about everything I’ve just said.’

‘I’ll tell you what I think... for starters, you might want to fucking calculate how much work I did on this place free of charge... and even before I screwed you I was cutting costs down for you as much as possible. What I hear from you tonight is that you don’t trust me and you think I’m living off you and your bloody wages when I’ve been trying to set us up in a new house that we both own. That’s what I think.’

Eddie pushed his chair back and it toppled over as he picked up the beer bottle and hurled it into the sink. The glass shattered everywhere, and Jane jerked back as he turned towards her with his fists clenched. He smirked, then shook his head when she put her hands up as if to protect herself.

Jane stayed in the kitchen as she heard him moving around the house, then going upstairs. She couldn’t stop herself from shaking. It seemed an age before she heard him thumping down the stairs again. She was still feeling afraid as he appeared in the kitchen doorway carrying a big canvas bag and an armful of shirts still on their hangers.

‘I’ll send one of my boys to pick up the TV.’

He slammed the front door so hard she thought the frame must have been broken and then she heard him revving his van and driving off. After taking some deep breaths she fetched a dustpan and brush to sweep up the shattered glass around the sink. Tipping the shards into the waste bin, she saw the vase of roses on the side that he’d brought home the previous night. Snatching the stems out of the vase, she kicked open the bin again and shoved the roses in, heads down, with some of their petals scattering on the floor.

After checking that the front door was secure, Jane switched off the downstairs lights and went upstairs to her bedroom. The wardrobe doors were open and almost all of Eddie’s clothes were gone. Jane closed the curtains and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth with a vengeance, then got into bed and turned the bedside light off. In the darkness, she let herself cry. At first she just whimpered, but then she started sobbing uncontrollably, wiping her face with the edge of the duvet.

The following morning her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. She had to use more make-up than usual and was trying her hardest to stay calm, but when she saw the rose petals scattered on the kitchen floor it was difficult not to break down again.

The drive to the station gave her time to clear her head and get her emotions under control.

Stanley joined her in the canteen with his usual fry-up.

‘Morning. You not eating anything?’

She shook her head. ‘Just coffee. I’m not hungry.’

Stanley glanced at her before tucking in and then took another look at her as she sat with her head bowed.

‘Bad night, huh?’

‘You could say that.’

‘I went to collect my daughter from her ballet class last night. I doubt she’ll make a career of it, but bless her, she tries very hard; it’s just that she seems to be a beat behind the other girls. You know something, I never had the time when she was tiny, left it all to the wife. I never thought I’d be sitting with all these mothers half my age watching their children trying to be cygnets. They’ve got a performance of Swan Lake coming up and I’m going to be in the front row.’

Stanley had the ability to talk non-stop and eat at the same time.

‘What time are we interviewing Martin Boon?’ Jane asked.

‘Oh sorry, was I boring you? What I was going to say was how good it felt not to be under pressure anymore.’

‘I’m sorry, Stanley, it was a bad night.’

Stanley stirred his coffee.

‘Want to talk about it?’

‘Not really... Listen, I went to that medium I told you about, the one the ex-Mrs Hoffman — now Martinez — gave me the card for. I was worried she might have been conning her out of her hard-earned cash. Anyway, she kind of freaked me out a bit, brought up something about my family, but I don’t want to get into that. It was something she said about Angelica Martinez’s son.’

‘Sorry, what son?’

Jane told him the story, then repeated what Vera James had said to her.

‘All sounds to me as if she was just trying to distract you because you reckoned she was a con artist.’

‘I don’t think she is, though. I did at first, but she told me things about my family there was no way she could have known about. I mean, yes, she’s making money out of these people — it’s fifteen quid for the first session and then ten for any follow-up appointments.’

‘Bloody hell, you paid fifteen quid? There’s no way you’ll be able to put that against expenses.’

‘I don’t intend to. But con artist or not, why does she insist Angelica Martinez’s son is near to the Caplans’ house, or in it?’

‘Sounds like bollocks to me. Meanwhile, how many sessions is that woman paying for? C’mon, she’s a con artist.’

Jane shrugged. ‘Maybe you’re right; it was just when she said she tasted blood in her mouth...’

Picking up his dirty plate to take to the counter, Stanley looked at her and then smiled. ‘It’s a good line. It hooked you in.’

Returning to the CID office, Jane checked for any messages. There was just a typed note from DCI Hutton to please add to the board her whereabouts after she had left early yesterday afternoon.

A telling-off from the headmistress. Just what I need, Jane thought sourly.

She looked up to see Stanley was having a conversation with Burrows. Checking her watch, Jane saw that they had more than half an hour before they had to go and interview Martin Boon. Jane got her notebook out and made some quick notes before going to talk to one of the probationers.

‘I have a bit of research for you to do, Meryl.’

Meryl had a bad case of acne she was obviously self-conscious about, but she eagerly pulled out her notepad.

‘I’ve actually written down everything I want you to do for me,’ Jane said. ‘First up, can you find out as much as possible about a teenage boy called Sebastian Hoffman? He might also be using the name Martinez. I’ve given you his parents’ names and previous address. I also want you to try and trace a flight to Mexico... the time frame is a bit stretched but see if you can track down a return flight to London. I’ve given you a couple of possible dates, and you might also check if missing persons have ever been contacted about him. Next there is a medium, Vera James. Here’s her address and phone number. She has a daughter and two teenage grandchildren, so just see what you can dig up on her. I doubt if you will find anything in records, but do what you can.’

‘Yes, ma’am, I’ll get started straightaway.’

‘Good, thank you.’

Arriving shortly before nine o’clock at Clarendon Court, Jane parked in the Boons’ driveway behind their car. Stanley had the evidence bag with the bicycle pump inside. The door was answered by Ellen Boon.

‘Sorry to inconvenience you,’ Jane said. ‘We’d like to speak to your husband, please.’

‘He only came home from hospital yesterday and he’s having his breakfast at the moment, so this is not convenient,’ Mrs Boon said with a frown.

‘Who is it?’ Martin Boon appeared in the hallway behind his wife.

‘Morning, Mr Boon,’ Stanley said with a disarming smile. ‘We promise not to take up too much of your time, but it is quite important.’

He nodded. ‘You better come in then.’

His wife closed the door behind them as they followed him into the sitting room.

‘Do you need me with you, dear?’ she asked.

He didn’t answer so Stanley shut the door. Martin Boon looked none the worse for his recent hospitalisation. He wore a thick, ribbed sweater over a blue shirt, cord trousers and old, worn slippers.

‘I am very pleased that you have recovered from your ordeal,’ Jane said, sitting in one of the cushioned chairs. Boon remained standing with his back to the fireplace.

‘What do you want to talk to me about?’

‘Do sit down, Mr Boon, I don’t want to tire you.’ Stanley gestured to the sofa.

Jane opened her notebook and flipped through a few pages before glancing towards Stanley to signal he should begin the interview.

‘Could you please describe exactly what happened between you and David Caplan from the moment you entered their property? I’m sure you’re aware that we have assault charges pending.’

Boon sighed. ‘He could have bloody killed me.’

‘You went into his garden, is that correct?’

‘I heard him shouting loudly, the gate was open, so I walked in to see if anything was wrong. He was very aggressive, his dog was barking and running around and the next minute he picked up a spade and attacked me. I tried to back away but he struck me and I fell. Next thing I’m in hospital.’

‘So, at no point did you threaten Mr Caplan?’ Stanley said.

‘No, I did not. Like I just said, because of the shouting, I went to see if there was anything wrong.’

‘You said the garden gate was open?’

‘Yes. I admit that I have not been on good terms with Mr Caplan. We had to put up with months of building work. The noise was a nightmare, and there were endless trucks and vans, and even a cement mixer in the courtyard. It was bad enough when the two houses were being built opposite the Caplans; no sooner were they completed than it all starts up again, and this time closer to us.’

‘I believe you opposed planning permission?’

‘Of course I did. Before them we had the Hoffmans trying to convert the house into flats, even had a bloody fire there. But they sold up and the next thing we have is more builders. How they got all their planning permission through for what they did inside beggars belief. Then Caplan wants to put in electric gates and a wall.’

‘I can understand how frustrating it must have been for you,’ Stanley said.

‘I am glad you do. I mean, why do they want electric gates when they have a garage in the back lane?’

‘Well...’ Stanley wasn’t sure what to say.

Boon pulled a face. ‘I have the original plans for this courtyard. They’re trying to build over the boundary line onto the tarmac, by at least a foot and a half.’

‘You don’t own the courtyard, though, do you?’ Stanley said.

‘The courtyard is owned by Mr and Mrs Larsson, and as a good neighbour I have acted on their behalf. Now, is there anything else you want to know because I am supposed to be resting.’

Jane held up her pencil.

‘Mr Caplan says that his gate was not open, and that you entered and made threatening remarks to him.’

‘I did not.’

‘He also maintains that you had what he perceived to be a weapon, swinging it towards him as if you were about to strike him.’

‘Rubbish.’

‘Mr Caplan described the item as black and shiny, and thought it could be some kind of lead pipe?’ Stanley continued.

‘I don’t believe this! He struck me with his spade. If you are here on his behalf you had better wait for my solicitor to be present. In fact, it’s time you left.’

‘Just a couple more things,’ Stanley said. ‘The spade was examined by forensics. They found no blood, hairs or tissue on it, and according to your specialist you had no frontal injury. However, you did have an injury that was more than probably caused by you falling backwards, and due to your previous medical condition—’

Boon slapped the arm of the sofa, his face flushed.

‘I want you to leave right now!’

Stanley opened the evidence bag and took out the bicycle pump.

‘I believe this belongs to you, Mr Boon?’ Stanley placed it on the coffee table in front of him.

Boon leaned forwards and picked it up.

‘What is this about?’ he said, holding the bicycle pump in his hands.

‘Detective Inspector Tennison and I removed it from your garage.’

‘You had no right to do that.’

‘We had every right, Mr Boon, because it fits the description Mr Caplan gave. I can understand that if you were holding it in a certain way it is possible that he could have been mistaken in believing it to be some kind of weapon.’

Before Boon could answer the door was opened by his wife. Standing behind her was Mrs Larsson.

‘We think you should not be talking to these officers without your solicitor being present,’ Mrs Larsson said firmly.

‘I am the victim; I don’t need a solicitor,’ Mr Boon said.

‘As you are well aware, Martin has only just been released from hospital.’ Mrs Larsson stepped forwards, looking towards Mr Boon. ‘Are you all right, Martin?’

Stanley got up and took the bicycle pump from him. He held it out towards both of the women.

‘Did either of you, on the day of the incident involving Mr Caplan, remove this from the scene and reattach it to Mr Boon’s bicycle?’

Mrs Larsson was about to answer when Ellen Boon burst into tears, covering her face with her hands.

‘Yes, I did... it was on our path when I went in to get dressed... their dog must have had it and dropped it. I didn’t do anything wrong.’

Stanley glanced towards Jane and nodded as he put the pump back in the evidence bag.

‘Mrs Boon, I suggest that you and your husband, with or without your solicitor, come into the station to give a formal statement. I am sorry to have inconvenienced you, sir. We are aware that you’re still recovering from your injury, but we will need to know if you intend to press assault charges against Mr Caplan. Thank you for your time.’

Jane walked past the two women. Mrs Boon was still in tears, but Mrs Larsson was tight-lipped with her arms folded across her chest. Stanley calmly said they would show themselves out as he followed Jane.

Driving out through the courtyard, Stanley shook his head.

‘You know, I reckon it’s all about money; they think they can make a packet out of David Caplan.’

Jane frowned. ‘To my mind I think that if anybody should sue it’s David Caplan.’

As they drove past the Caplans’ house the Caplans were getting out of their Range Rover. Jane pulled over. ‘I’m just going to have a quick chat with them, give them an update.’

‘Maybe jumping the gun a bit?’ Stanley said.

But Jane was already getting out of the car. David Caplan was opening the front door as his wife carried in a bag of shopping.

‘Hello, we were just passing,’ Jane said, approaching Mrs Caplan.

‘Would you like to come in for a coffee?’

Buster hurled himself towards them as Mr Caplan grabbed his collar. ‘Sorry, come on Buster, let’s take you out.’

They all went into the kitchen as Mr Caplan opened the backdoor and pushed Buster into the garden. The shredded remnants of a large kitchen roll were strewn around the kitchen floor, and Mrs Caplan put down her shopping bag and began picking up the soggy paper.

‘He can reach up to the counters now,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Please do sit down and I’ll make some coffee.’

Jane helped clear up the mess as Mr Caplan returned to the kitchen.

‘That bloody dog... He’s started getting separation anxiety when we both leave him, so we’re getting a dog-trainer in.’

After his experience with Eric Donaldson, Stanley didn’t want to hear any more stories of dogs and their owners. He could see Buster charging around the garden with what appeared to be a deflated football.

‘We were visiting Martin Boon — you probably know he’s been released from hospital. We needed to get a statement about the bicycle pump.’

‘I’ll be interested to know if he now admits threatening me with it,’ Mr Caplan said.

‘Not exactly, but his wife has admitted that she found the pump on his driveway and put it back on his bike when she was getting ready to go to the hospital. We have also asked him to come to the station to give a formal statement and to verify if he still wants to press assault charges.’

‘Off the record, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was after cash,’ Jane said.

Mr Caplan arched his eyebrows. ‘Really? Well, if anyone is going to sue, it’ll be me. He has caused me huge anxiety and frustration, on top of my solicitors’ fees.’

Alice carried the fresh coffee to the table with milk and sugar, and a plate of pastries.

‘You know, darling, I wouldn’t even bother. We have to live here... well, for a while at least... and we want to get the gates and wall completed. I’d prefer to try and get along with the neighbours before we sell.’

Mr Caplan snorted. ‘There is no way I want to get along with that pompous bastard, or the interfering Larssons. I have the builders for the gates coming to see me this week.’

Jane poured the coffee and they made polite conversation for a while, then Mr Caplan excused himself to answer the phone, preferring not to use the kitchen extension.

‘We have an estate agent coming to value the house. David is eager to sell,’ Mrs Caplan explained.

‘Do you live in the properties when you are doing all the renovations?’ Jane asked.

‘Not if I can help it. We didn’t move in here until it was partially completed, as I like to oversee all the interior decoration. We have a small pied-à-terre in Mayfair which David uses as his office; unless he’s working from here.’

Stanley drained his coffee cup, then pointedly looked at his watch.

‘We should be leaving. Thank you for the coffee.’

Jane paused in the hall.

‘Has Mrs Hoffman come around to see you again?’ she asked.

Mrs Caplan shook her head. ‘But you know, after you left, when I gave you her address, I remembered... I think I told you she had called in just the once... but I told David about her...’

She turned as her husband came to join them.

He nodded. ‘She came by when I was here checking on the progress; it was a real building site. But my builder told me that she had made frequent visits.’

‘It was a real coincidence, because I met her at the care home where she works but she was using her maiden name, so I didn’t realise she was the previous owner’s wife,’ Jane said. ‘I wondered if you could let me have a few photographs of Sebastian’s bedroom, before you did all the restoration.’

Alice glanced at her husband, and he shook his head.

‘Actually, I need the album for tomorrow as I show it to clients, but Alice will I am sure have some copies somewhere.’

‘Oh, I do, but heaven knows where they are. I’ll have a search and make sure I give them to you when I see you again.’

‘Whenever it’s convenient, thank you, and we’ll be in touch as soon as we have a further update,’ Jane said.

She hurried back to her car and Stanley gave her an impatient look as she got into the driver’s seat.

‘What was all that about?’ Stanley said.

Jane shrugged and drove out through the courtyard.

‘I reckon that medium really got to you.’

Jane sighed. ‘The reason I was out of sorts this morning is that I broke up with Eddie last night. He was really pushing for us to buy a property at auction and refurbish it, but we would have to sell my house in order to finance it.’

Stanley felt for Jane, but didn’t want to get into any heavy emotional stuff. ‘I would say that David Caplan would be a good person to talk to about buying and selling properties. He must have got their house for a pittance and it must now be worth a fortune.’

Jane nodded. ‘You’re probably right.’ They were both happy to leave it at that.

Back at the station, they were making out the report of their meeting with Martin Boon when DCI Hutton came out of her office.

‘Just finishing the report on Martin Boon, ma’am,’ Stanley said. ‘I think we now need to bring him in with his wife to get a formal statement from them both. She’s lied to us, and he blustered when we showed him the bicycle pump. If we put some pressure on, I’m certain he won’t press the assault charge.’

‘OK, get it organised. Let Mr Caplan know, as his solicitor has been pestering me.’

‘Yes, ma’am. Is there anything else?’

‘No. Just sort this out, please. It’s taken up too much of your time, both of you.’

Hutton went back to her office and Stanley said he’d organise transport to bring Mr and Mrs Boon into the station. He would also speak to the officers who were called out to the incident to go over their reports.

Jane was happy to leave everything to Stanley as Meryl had asked to see her. They went into a small interview room as it was more private. Meryl had brought a stack of newspaper articles she thought might be of interest. It had taken her most of the day and she was still working on her notes.

First up was her research on Vera James.

‘She was at one time quite well known and did sessions with audiences all over England. They were usually in small locations such as drill halls and rooms above pubs. The public paid to enter and there were various different booths, so she would be alongside tarot card readers, palmists and psychics, as well as other mediums.’

Meryl then told Jane about Vera’s daughter. Sandra was divorced from her husband, who had been arrested for domestic abuse. She had two teenage children at local schools in Swanley, and they were all now living at Vera’s. The house was owned by Vera but there had been problems with mortgage arrears and an eviction order had been issued three years ago. However, this appeared to have been dealt with.

‘How old is Vera?’ Jane asked.

‘She’s eighty-one and has been married twice, both ex-husbands now deceased. From what I could find out, the venue work dried up and Vera retired. She is also receiving disability allowance and her daughter is down as her carer.’

Meryl passed over the typed report she had just gone through, clipping together some newspaper articles she had copied. Next, she told Jane what she had managed to find out about Sebastian Hoffman. He had won a piano scholarship to Tiffin School in Kingston but left when he was fifteen. She had been able to contact a tutor there who had described him as an ‘exceptionally talented young man’, but said he was not good at socialising and had not made many friends. He was fluent in German and had been educated there, so he had traces of an accent.

‘The tutor’s name is George Taylor and I have noted down his phone number for you.’

‘Good. Did he mention the reason that Sebastian left at fifteen?’

‘No, he didn’t. I’ve been on to the passport office and have his passport details under the name Hoffman, but it expired five years ago. I tried to find out if he left the UK for Mexico. I contacted most of the relevant airlines that have direct flights. I also made enquiries about anyone under the name Hoffman or Martinez returning to London, but as it was a few years ago they were not very productive.’

Meryl handed Jane her typed notes with Sebastian Hoffman’s name printed in large letters at the top. She tapped the pages with her pen.

‘I also contacted missing persons for this area and there’s no record of anyone in the name of Hoffman or Martinez.’

Jane smiled. ‘Well, this is great, Meryl. Thank you very much.’

‘I will keep on at the airlines and let you know if I get a result. In the meantime, do you want me to mention this research to DCI Hutton?’

‘No, that won’t be necessary — I will deal with it. Thank you again, Meryl.’

Jane waited until she had left the room before spreading out all the newspaper cuttings. There were two pages from a newspaper on which Meryl had written in red ink, ‘Full page as other news coverage may be of interest.’

The text was rather blurred, and mostly consisted of advertisements for a disco, a bring-and-buy sale at St Mary’s Church Hall, a production of Little Red Riding Hood by the local amateur dramatic society and some Saturday afternoon puppet shows. Then there was a black-edged section: ‘Local Medium Vera James, at the Swan & Bear for two nights’. Beneath the ad were quotes from satisfied clients:

Jane almost shot out of her seat as the door burst open and Stanley appeared, looking agitated.

‘What in God’s name are you doing in here? I’ve been looking all over the station for you. We had Martin Boon’s solicitor here — he’s withdrawing any charges against David Caplan.’

‘I thought we were bringing him in for an interview?’

‘I’d just started to organise that when he came to the station.’

‘Martin Boon was here?’

‘No, his fucking solicitor. He claims Boon never wanted any charges brought against David Caplan.’

‘You are joking?’

‘The best part of it was that his client wished to remain on good terms with his neighbour.’

‘So that’s it?’

‘Suppose so... we just have to finish up the paperwork.’

Jane sighed and started to gather up all the papers. Stanley leaned forwards to pick up the page from the newspaper.

‘That medium really got to you, didn’t she? Don’t tell me she knew you and your boyfriend were parting company?’

‘No, she did not,’ Jane snapped, standing up.

Stanley tossed the article back onto the table and turned to leave.

‘You fancy a drink? I’m going over to the pub.’

‘Not really, I might just head off home.’

Stanley hesitated at the door, watching as she packed all the notes into her briefcase.

‘OK then, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

He closed the door quietly as she clicked her briefcase shut. Picking up her handbag, she stopped and sat down again, just as Stanley returned.

‘I forgot to mention, the solicitor was no ordinary local bloke, but from a big firm in the city — not the same one as before. DCI Hutton asked if he would be available should we require his presence, and he said that if Mr Larsson agreed he would attend.’

‘So, they’re footing his bill?’

‘Exactly... very neighbourly, because he must charge for every second. So, come and have a drink to celebrate our case purportedly closed... bar the paperwork.’

Jane smiled. ‘Actually, I think I could do with a gin and tonic.’