Taste of Blood

Chapter Fourteen

Jane had consumed several large gin and tonics by the time she finally got a taxi home. There had been a group of officers from the station, one celebrating his birthday, so they congregated in the small snug bar while the pub was closed to regular customers. The lock-in proved to be just what Jane needed: a lot of laughs, no talk about their case and no thought about Eddie. Surprisingly, DC Burrows turned out to be an entertaining storyteller.

Getting out of the taxi, Jane could see the hall light had been left on, and her good mood instantly evaporated as she assumed Eddie was inside. She opened the door and called out but there was no response. She looked in the kitchen to see the rose petals still scattered on the floor. Heading up the stairs, she called out for him again, as the bedroom light was also on.

The TV had been taken, along with his few remaining clothes. His toothbrush and electric shaver had been taken from the bathroom. There was no note. Jane felt empty and sad.

She felt even worse the following morning as her hangover kicked in. She cleared the kitchen, made herself a cup of strong coffee and took two paracetamol. She was waiting outside for a taxi to take her to the station when an ambulance drew up, and Gerry hurried out as the two paramedics got out to open the rear doors. They lowered a stretcher seat, with Vi wrapped up in a red blanket. She gave Jane a beaming smile.

Gerry waved to her as he ushered them into the house.

‘I’m glad to see Vi’s home,’ Jane called out.

‘Small mercies...’ Gerry said, raising his eyes as he followed them inside.

She was still waiting for her taxi when the paramedics came out, with Gerry thanking them as they returned to their ambulance. He turned to Jane as they drove off. ‘Could your Eddie spare me a few minutes? I’ve decided to go to a dog shelter this afternoon and I need the back garden fence fixed, so it’s safe.’

‘I’m sorry, not sure if he’s around today.’

‘Never mind then. I am not going to get a puppy, we want a rescue dog, a few years old, that won’t jump up on Vi, but it’ll be good for her. Well, to be honest, better for me really as she’s sometimes unsure who I am.’

Jane was thankful when her taxi drew up. She waved to Gerry as it pulled away. On her way to the station, she thought about what he had said, and it made her think about the Caplans’ puppy, who definitely needed training. As she was dropped off at the station, Stanley was walking in. Like Jane he had been well into his cups last night so had not driven home. When she had left, he was still drinking with DC Burrows.

‘Morning,’ he said with a grimace. ‘I don’t know about you, but I have one hell of a hangover.’

‘So you won’t be having your usual full English?’

‘I most certainly will! Always the best cure, along with a big dose of Andrews Liver Salts first thing.’

He was already in the canteen with his plate loaded when Jane sat down. She had ordered poached eggs on toast but doubted she’d be able to eat anything.

‘My neighbour was outside when I was waiting for my taxi. His wife has dementia, and I thought when I saw her being taken in an ambulance the other day she might not be back, but they brought her home early this morning.’

Stanley nodded. ‘What an exciting morning! And to add some even more thrilling news, they’ve announced that Prince Andrew and Sarah Ferguson are getting married on 23rd July. My ballet-crazy daughter saved all the newspaper articles about Princess Diana’s wedding and it’s the same with this one; she has even made a wedding dress for her Barbie doll.’

‘I’m surprised you’re even aware of the wedding,’ Jane said.

‘After this morning I am, because the wife only just discovered that our daughter had cut out the satin from her wedding dress. All hell broke loose!’

Jane put her half-eaten poached eggs to one side and took out two more paracetamol tablets.

‘I’ll have a couple. My head’s killing me.’ Stanley held out his hand.

She was about to leave when DCI Hutton walked past with a cup of coffee.

‘Could I just have a quick word, ma’am?’ Jane asked.

‘Sure, here or do you want to come to my office?’

‘It won’t take a moment. Just wanted to check you were happy for me to update Mr Caplan. From our last conversation, he seemed intent on taking the situation further, possibly even suing Martin Boon for trespass.’

Hutton sighed. ‘Well, we don’t want that. What we want is for this whole mess to go away so we can get on with more important things. You’d better go then. Just don’t take all morning about it.’

The Range Rover was not parked outside the house, so Jane drove round to the rear entrance, pulling up outside the double gates, but it was obvious the Caplans were not at home. She was about to leave when she saw the neighbour from the house opposite parking in their drive.

Jane walked over.

‘Good morning, it’s DI Jane Tennison. I was hoping to see Mr Caplan, but I don’t think they’re home.’

‘I saw them leaving when I left,’ the woman said. ‘We’re only on nodding terms, but I obviously know about all the problems that have been going on.’

‘Can I help you with these?’ Jane nodded to the bags of groceries in the boot of her car.

‘That’s very kind of you. I do a mammoth shop for the entire week, stock up my freezer, and it ends up being quite a load.’

Jane carried in two plastic bags from Waitrose, still trying to remember the woman’s name. She had opened her front door to carry in a crate of beer and dumped it inside, then went to collect another box of tonic water.

It was a minute before Jane remembered that her name was Ida Bellamy, and her husband was Hector. They had a few businesses, including a small hardware store. Ida offered to make some coffee, if Jane wanted to wait until the Caplans returned.

Jane accepted and helped stack the groceries in the kitchen cupboards before sitting down at the kitchen table. Jane knew neither of the Bellamys had been at home when the altercation happened, so she asked Mrs Bellamy about when they’d moved into the house. ‘It was exceptionally well finished and decorated to our specifications, and we had very few hiccups, just the things you expect with a new property,’ Mrs Bellamy said. ‘The only drawback was that the courtyard was in a really bad state; it was like a mudbath when it rained. We were told it was caused by all the building work and wouldn’t be fixed until the new build next door was finished.’

‘So how long did you have to wait until the property next door was finished?’

‘About eight months, but the courtyard was left in an even worse state. We eventually discovered that it was part of Mr Hoffman’s estate; he was the previous owner of the big mansion.’

‘Did you meet with Mr and Mrs Hoffman?’

‘Fleetingly, but I could tell he was not a pleasant man. I believe he and his wife were having money troubles. We had a sort of meeting with everyone to discuss how we would try and sort it out, and we were then told that Mr Larsson had been sold the courtyard. To be honest, it was all rather strange because I think it would have been better for us all to part-own it.’

‘They are certainly very rude about anyone parking there,’ Jane said.

Mrs Bellamy rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, I know, so we keep our distance. One night my husband heard a lot of shouting and when he looked out Mr Larsson was having an argument with Mr Hoffman. Mrs Larsson was screaming and being hysterical. I think it was something connected to their daughter. Anyway, it was after that we were told the Larssons owned the courtyard.’

‘Did they begin to tarmac the area straightaway?’

She nodded. ‘Not long after, anyway. My husband felt the workmen were a bit on the cowboy side. They had this big open truck boiling up the tar, and they began at the far side of the drive, round to the front entrance.’

‘Did you know the Hoffmans’ son?’

‘Not really. But he was a very handsome young man. He didn’t have any curtains on his bedroom windows, and I often saw him at night, dancing. I remember he had very long dark hair.’

‘Have you seen him recently?’

‘No, he disappeared before his parents left, and then tragedy struck. The poor Larssons were devastated. It’s awful because I can’t remember their daughter’s name, but she died of sepsis. She was only sixteen, poor thing. I remember it so clearly because her funeral cortège had to manoeuvre round the unfinished tarmac.’

‘Have you ever seen Mrs Hoffman here, possibly around the time the big house was being worked on?’

‘No, but we wouldn’t have. My husband and I both leave early for work, and don’t return until six or even later.’

Jane nodded. ‘I should be going. Thank you for the coffee, Mrs Bellamy. Hopefully by now the Caplans are back.’

Mrs Bellamy walked Jane to the front door. She pointed out the planting Mrs Larsson had done, all around the verges.

‘She put that railing up in front of the Caplans’ rear garden fence. I think it’s supposed to have flowering plants of some kind, but they look wilted to me. I had a visit from David Caplan asking me if either myself or my husband objected to his plans for a new wall to replace the old fence, and electric gates, and I said it would look so much better, so I had no objections and nor did our next-door neighbours.’

‘It seems the only objection is from Martin Boon, then,’ Jane said.

‘Well, he is a very fussy man. I can’t see why he would object as it doesn’t have any connection to his property.’

‘Thank you again,’ Jane said, heading towards her car.

Mrs Larsson was standing in her drive with her arms folded, staring towards her, grim-faced. Jane ignored her.

The Range Rover was now there, so Jane quickly parked alongside it. She rang the doorbell, and instantly heard a cacophony of barking from Buster. Mrs Caplan opened the door, holding tightly onto Buster’s collar as he tried to leap up at Jane.

‘Sorry to disturb you. This won’t take a moment, I just need to give your husband an update,’ Jane said.

Buster galloped off as Mrs Caplan called for her husband. He hurried down the staircase, pausing on the landing to look down into the hall.

‘Come up to my office. Has Alice offered you a coffee?’

‘No, thank you,’ Jane replied. ‘This won’t take long.’

David Caplan waited for Jane to join him on the landing before ushering her into his office. The room was lined with books, and his desk was covered in architectural drawings.

‘My boss felt that you should be given the good news. We had Mr Boon’s solicitor at the station and he confirmed that Mr Boon will not be pressing assault charges...’

Caplan leaned forwards. ‘Oh, really. He’s not pressing charges against me? Well, one, he entered my property without my consent; and two, he was abusive and threatened me with what I presumed was some kind of weapon. I have been put through the wringer, being told my actions to protect myself could have caused his death. And now, he just walks into the station and...’

Jane straightened and apologised for interrupting. ‘Not personally... his solicitor asked to see DCI Hutton and formally withdrew any allegations of assault. He also expressed Mr Boon’s sincere wishes to remain on good terms with you as his neighbour.’

Caplan shook his head in disbelief. ‘Well, I have no desire to remain on good terms with him. I will be speaking to my solicitor to discuss exactly what action I can take.’

He folded his arms and Jane took it as a sign the discussion was over.

‘Thank you for your time, Mr Caplan.’

Mrs Caplan walked Jane to the front door.

‘Is everything all right?’

‘I believe so,’ Jane said. ‘Hopefully I won’t need to bother you again.’

‘Did he tell you that we’ve got the clearance from the planning board to begin demolishing the old fences and to erect the new wall and the electric gates?’ Mrs Caplan said.

‘That’s positive news,’ Jane replied. ‘Good to see you again.’

Jane went out to her car, knowing that it might be good news for the Caplans, but she doubted the neighbours would be very happy about it. Still, at least it would no longer be a police matter.