Taste of Blood

Chapter Thirty-Three

Jane and Stanley had worked together for over an hour. She seemed to have been gathering detailed information for weeks, and he found it difficult to absorb it all, even though she had done a good job of laying it all out on the board with photographs and graphic links. They were interrupted by Burrows, who had brought in the final documents from the post-mortem.

Jane flicked through the report, then stopped and tapped one of the pages. ‘See what he says about the indentation at the base of Sebastian’s skull. He reckons severe trauma would have resulted from some sharp-edged instrument. He can’t say what it was, but the blow would have rendered Sebastian unconscious, even though his long, thick hair would have blunted some of its force. He also confirmed that the neck was severed by a small Gigli saw, leaving tiny, jagged scars on the vertebra.’

She handed the report to Stanley, who read through the rest, then flicked through a stack of photographs that had been attached. ‘Look, here’s a photograph of the plaster cast,’ he said. ‘And here’s a memo saying a facial reconstruction is underway.’

The sound of the sirens indicated the return of the patrol cars, and Stanley went over to the window overlooking the station yard. The rain was still pouring down.

‘Here they come, first out is Martin Boon. Did you tell them to bring his wife in separately?’

‘Yes, same with the Larssons, and they are to be taken to the cells and not allowed to speak to each other.’

‘We’ve only got four cells. That means we’ve got a full house.’

‘OK, first up is Ellen Boon, interview room one. I just need to take a bathroom break, then let’s go.’

She put all her files in order and gathered them up. ‘I’ll see you in five minutes.’

The sirens wailed again and Stanley went back to the window to see Mrs Larsson being brought out of the patrol car by two uniformed officers. Her face was taut with anger as she shrugged away one officer’s arm, but he insisted, and she struggled for a brief moment before being led out of sight. Stanley was about to turn away when the next patrol car drove in, bringing her husband. He had to stoop down to get out, but unlike his wife he kept his head bowed, waiting to be taken into the station, his arms held stiffly at his sides. Stanley waited, and last to arrive was the patrol car with one female uniformed officer seated beside Mrs Boon. She was wearing a hooded raincoat, and she slowly walked with the officer into the station.

Stanley made his way down to the cells. The duty sergeant told him that the Larssons had already requested a phone call, as was their right. Stanley told him to take each of them out separately to make the calls and to get another officer to remain in earshot of their cells.

Jane washed her face, combed her hair and then powdered her cheeks with a light foundation before applying lip gloss. Licking her index finger, she ran it over each eyebrow before she was satisfied. After checking her blouse was properly buttoned and smoothing out her skirt, she slipped on her jacket, and stood staring at her reflection for a moment, before picking up her stack of files.

Interview room one was on the first floor, with two smaller rooms on either side. DC Burrows was standing outside as she approached. ‘There’s water and tissues, ma’am. Stanley is already waiting. The Larssons have both made separate calls to their solicitor, so there will be some delay before they arrive.’

‘What about Martin Boon?’

‘He made his call, but it seems that whoever he contacted told him that he would be unable to represent him as well as his wife. I suggested we get one of the legal-aid guys we use but he declined and said his wife would not require representation.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘He didn’t try to speak to her, but then shouted for her to not answer any questions until he’s talked to his solicitor. I already told the duty sergeant to have an officer outside the cells to see if they try and pass any messages to each other.’

Jane nodded. ‘Well, Boon’s probably relying on the fact that a wife can’t give evidence against her spouse.’

‘Do you want me to bring her up now?’

‘Yes please, and did you forward my instructions to the forensics team at the courtyard?’

‘Yes, ma’am, radioed them in immediately I was asked.’

‘One more thing, Bill, can you check out for me the value of the guitar? I know it looks very worn but it’s a Gibson and I’m not sure if that means anything, but check with Boosey and Hawkes — they’re a top musical instrument maker. Hopefully, they might still be open.’

As he walked off down the corridor, Jane took a deep breath and then entered the interview room. Although the largest at the station, it was not like any of the interview rooms in the older stations she had worked in. The usual insipid green and faded yellowish paint and functional furniture had been discarded, and replaced with fresh cream tones, good lighting and comfortable chairs.

Stanley stood up as she walked in. She put her files down on the table, and selected one of the pair of chairs along one wall, moving it nearer to the table. Stanley sat in the other, to the side and slightly behind. The only other chair was facing them across the table. Plastic cups and a water jug sat next to a box of tissues.

‘You familiar with the recorder and everything?’ she asked.

‘Yes, been using it recently,’ he said.

‘Good, I don’t want to be bothered. As soon as she’s brought in, you do the honours and read her her rights, but keep it low-key; she’s going to be very nervous as her husband already warned her to keep her mouth shut, but as soon as she is relaxed, I’ll up the tension.’

Stanley nodded. ‘No solicitor?’

‘No, said she didn’t want one, so we’re good to go.’

There was a firm knock on the door, and a female uniformed officer led Ellen Boon in. She was wearing a pleated grey skirt, a white blouse and a knitted cardigan, partly buttoned. Jane waited until she was seated and Stanley had switched on the recorder.

‘I am Detective Inspector Jane Tennison, and this is Inspector Stanley. We will be conducting the interview.’

Stanley read her her rights.

‘Mrs Boon,’ Jane began. ‘I think you are aware that two of your watercolour paintings were removed from your property, and we also have two further paintings that belonged to Mr and Mrs Larsson. They are signed EB, so we assume that you were the artist, is that correct?’

‘Yes, I am just an amateur,’ she said, looking slightly bemused.

‘They show the Clarendon Court courtyard at various times, so you can see how the courtyard used to look before the two new properties were built. The old fenced area of what is now the Caplans’ property had considerable foliage and plants. I also believe at one time there had been stables, and the courtyard originally would have been cobblestones, as you have depicted. Is that correct?’

‘Yes, where the new houses are now used to be a wooded area, and when the buildings started, they created so much damage, with cranes and cement mixers and huge trucks. Mr and Mrs Hoffman used to own the big house and they never repaired any of the fences or gates, and they left the plants to rot, and no matter how many times we complained about the condition of the courtyard they never did any repairs. It was quite hazardous, especially in winter.’

Jane nodded. ‘You very clearly show in your paintings the state it had been left in. It must have been very frustrating as your property borders the courtyard.’

‘Yes, and I think perhaps our house and next door might have been originally built for the staff, in the old days when the stables were in use. There used to be an area for the carriages, but that was a long time before we lived there.’

‘So, it must have been a relief when Mr Larsson bought the courtyard from Mr Hoffman.’

‘Yes it was, because at last something was going to be done about the terribly uneven driveway.’

‘You are referring to the tarmac being laid?’

‘Yes, everyone was very relieved. We couldn’t afford to do it all — it was very costly.’

‘So, the paintings belonging to Mr Larsson are of the work commencing?’

For the first time, Ellen Boon looked wary. Jane smiled encouragingly, and she nodded.

‘Were they a sort of thank-you gift, to show your appreciation of the work going ahead in the courtyard?’

Ellen nodded again but had the same uneasy reaction. ‘Er... yes, that’s right.’

‘One interested me because you clearly show how part of the tarmacking was already completed, but then it appears to have been stopped, is that correct?’

‘Yes, it was because their daughter Georgina Larsson had tragically died.’

‘Do you know what she died of?’

‘She had been ill for some time. They had always been so concerned about her as she was very frail.’

Jane opened a file and pulled out the photograph she had been given by Kathleen. She passed it across the table.

‘This is Georgina, isn’t it?’

Ellen Boon looked at the photograph sadly. ‘Yes, such a pretty child. It was devastating.’

‘In the painting you gave to the Larssons, clearly showing the unfinished tarmacking, was that painted before the funeral? Or after?’

‘I don’t remember.’

‘You don’t remember? Let me describe it to you. Your painting shows two large potholes, the largest one being only a matter of feet from the Hoffman property’s broken-down fence. The small pothole is about six feet further away but directly in line with the deeper one. You also clearly show the darker area where the tarmac had been left unfinished, so I would suggest that you must have completed this watercolour before the funeral.’

Ellen chewed her lip. ‘Maybe I did.’

‘It feels as if you painted it to show what the courtyard looked like before the tarmacking was completed, as a sort of reminder, so you would remember exactly where these potholes were located.’

Mrs Boon didn’t say anything. Jane was not getting the response she wanted, so she changed tack, withdrawing the second photograph given to her by Angelica Martinez. She placed it on the table in front of Ellen.

‘Do you recognise this young man?’

Ellen stared at the photograph. ‘I’m not sure.’

‘This is Sebastian Hoffman. He began to use his mother’s name, Martinez, after his parents divorced. Surely you must recognise him? He used to ride his bike in the courtyard. Let me show you another photograph.’

Again, Jane slid out a photograph from her file, pushing it with one finger across the table, face upwards. Ellen Boon was beginning to get anxious, blinking rapidly as she stared at the photograph.

‘For the benefit of the tape recording Mrs Boon is shaking her head.’

Stanley poured a beaker of water, passing it to Ellen Boon. Her hand was shaking as she sipped, and she then used both hands to put it down on the table.

‘Along with your paintings,’ Jane continued, ‘we also removed from your garden shed lengths of string and rope, plus some hemp sacking material. This shed is where you work on your watercolours, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘And your husband also uses it for storing gardening equipment, and things to do with his hobbies?’

‘Yes.’

‘What are his hobbies?’

‘Well, he kept his camping equipment in there at one time, but that’s not really a hobby anymore.’

‘Does anyone else ever have access to this hut?’

‘No.’

‘No gardener?’

‘Oh no, we couldn’t afford one; it is just used by my husband and myself.’

‘It looks to be a recent purchase?’

‘No, we have been using it for three or four years.’

‘Does that also mean that your very modern kitchen and, I would say, costly extension, were installed at the same time?’

‘Not exactly. It required a lot of planning permission. It was two or three years ago.’

‘We also removed various musical instruments from a bedroom, including a guitar in an old guitar case. This was found inside a cupboard. Do you recall where it came from?’

‘No, but it would belong to my husband. He has musical evenings.’

‘You are both retired, and you said earlier you didn’t have the finances to pay for the tarmacking. I have recently had a lot of refurbishing done to my home, so I am very aware of what it would cost to build an extension. You have a washing machine, fridge, deep freeze, microwave, an impressive oven — so how did you pay for it all, including the shed?’

‘Savings.’

‘Savings... but you didn’t have the finances to pay for the tarmacking.’

Ellen Boon frowned. ‘My husband arranged everything.’

‘What about the Larssons? They seem quite an affluent couple, and I have to say they were certainly very concerned about your husband after the incident with Mr Caplan. Mrs Larsson also drove you back and forth to the hospital.’

‘I don’t drive, I never passed my test. Could I have some more water, please?’

‘Yes, of course.’

Stanley refilled Ellen’s beaker and passed it back. She was now visibly shaking, and her face was shining with perspiration. Stanley felt Jane was really stretching the interview out. They needed to accelerate things. As if Jane had read his mind, she selected a large black and white photograph from the post-mortem, keeping it face down.

‘Did you ever use silver duct tape?’

‘No.’

‘I mentioned earlier, Ellen, the items removed from your hut: some hemp sacking and rope.’

She shrugged. ‘They made a list, I know that.’

‘Do you know what was found underneath the tarmac?’

‘Er... no.’

‘I find that rather hard to believe. You must have heard what it was, and strangely enough in the exact location you have carefully painted.’

Jane turned over the photograph of the head wrapped in the hemp sacking and tied with rope. Ellen sat back in her chair, taking short, sharp breaths.

‘Please look at the photograph, Mrs Boon, and tell me if you have ever seen this before.’

‘No!’ Her voice sounded strangled.

‘We have been able to match this sacking, and the rope, with the items removed from your property. Do you still maintain that you have never seen it before?’

‘No, no, no, I swear I haven’t, I don’t know what it is.’

‘Can you please look at this fax sheet, Ellen, and tell me if you know what it is?’

Jane passed her one of the pictures of a Gigli saw, tapping it with her finger, as Ellen Boon blinked rapidly again.

‘I’m not sure, unless it is for cutting branches?’

‘So you have seen one like this before?’

‘I’m not sure, maybe when there was a storm, and we had a tree fall in the garden.’

‘So did you see your husband ever using a saw like this?’

‘I don’t know... I don’t understand why you are asking me these questions... I mean, he used to go camping and had lots of useful things in his rucksack.’

Stanley kept his eyes on Ellen Boon as she started to look very agitated, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. He was worried that as the pressure mounted, she might be unable to continue. Jane needed to speed things up.

‘Inside the sack, Ellen, was Sebastian Hoffman’s head, and his neck had been severed by a saw like the one I just asked you about.’

Jane quickly withdrew the second large photograph. This showed the head with the duct tape wrapping. It had been placed in an upright position to clearly show the features beneath. Ellen’s reaction was extraordinary, her eyes flicking from side to side as if trying to block out the image in the photograph. Her voice seemed distorted and was hardly audible.

‘I saw that, I... only saw that.’

‘Can you please repeat that?’ Jane asked.

Ellen Boon began shaking her head back and forth, her mouth twisted in a childlike grimace. Jane slapped the table with the flat of her hand. ‘Tell me where you saw this, Mrs Boon!’

Between awful wrenching sobs, her body bent forwards as she rocked back and forth, she said, ‘In the kitchen... in the kitchen.’

‘What did you see?’ Jane insisted.

‘That, I saw that... thing, on the side by the draining-board.’

Jane turned to Stanley, indicating that he should terminate the interview, as she collected the photographs and replaced them in her file.

Stanley noted the time and reminded Mrs Boon that she was still under caution. ‘You will now be returned to your cell.’

He had to help her get to her feet, and she clung onto his arm as he guided her to the door, rapping it hard to alert the officer outside, and then escorting her out.

The door was still ajar, and DC Burrows gave a light knock before entering.

Jane looked up. ‘I think I will need more coffee and another round of sandwiches, but first get someone in here with a mop, bucket and disinfectant.’

Burrows glanced down to where Ellen Boon had been sitting. There was a pool of urine beneath her chair.

‘I contacted that musical instrument place. Apparently an early Gibson, if it’s a J200, could be worth quite a lot of money. Collectors really value them.’

Jane nodded. ‘Anything from the Larssons’ garden?’

‘Not tonight, but they’ll be back in the morning.’

‘Terrific, I’ll be at my desk. Next up I want Martin Boon brought in.’

‘We’re still waiting on his solicitor. Likewise the Larssons.’

Jane pursed her lips in irritation. She walked out into the corridor, almost bumping into Stanley, who was eating a Mars bar.

‘Martin Boon’s solicitor has just arrived, so they’re being taken into interview room two. I asked the divisional surgeon to be on standby to check over his wife. She was in a pretty bad state. I reckon, if you are up for it, we go again in about half an hour.’

‘I am up for it, Stanley. I’m going to walk outside for a bit of fresh air and I need a cigarette.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Stanley said, crunching up the wrapper.

Burrows looked after her and then turned to Stanley. ‘How did it go with Ellen Boon?’

‘Let’s say DI Tennison covered a hell of a lot of ground, very tough on her, but she got a result in the end. Lucky she didn’t have a solicitor chipping in, though.’

Stanley went off to the gents’ as Burrows headed back to the incident room. He was actually quite shaken by how Jane had conducted the interview with Ellen Boon, going easy at first and then really putting pressure on her at the end. He took his electric shaver out of his pocket, running it over his stubble. He knew this was Jane’s show, but at the same time it was imperative to make sure she didn’t cross the line.

Meryl appeared through the double doors at the end of the corridor carrying a mop and bucket. ‘Evening, Meryl, no cleaners around tonight then?’ Stanley said, grinning.

‘Not until the morning. I’ve been asked to wash down interview room one, and switch a chair.’

‘How did it go with Miss Martinez?’

‘She is such a sweet, gentle woman. I think she knew the truth as soon as she saw her son’s guitar.’

Stanley nodded and gave her a sympathetic smile as he headed on down the corridor.

Jane was standing at her desk eating a sandwich and spooning sugar into a mug of coffee. He came over to help himself to a sandwich.

‘I didn’t think you took sugar?’

‘I don’t, but I needed a bit of an energy kick. I see you’ve smartened up and had a shave.’

She sipped her coffee as he wolfed down another sandwich. ‘We using the same technique — softly, softly, catchee monkey?’

‘No, I think we need to go straight for the jugular this time. We’ve got enough from Ellen to put him right in the shit. Who’s his solicitor?’

‘He’s a local guy, Colin Chester. He was busy around one of the kids we arrested on the drug bust. You know something, going by Ellen Boon’s reaction, I don’t think she really knew what had been done to our victim, but what I also got, and I could be wrong, I don’t think the decapitation occurred in their house, which meant Boon brought the head into their kitchen.’

‘Maybe, but what we really need to find out is the exact time frame from when Sebastian was murdered, to the funeral, and when the re-tarmacking commenced.’

Stanley frowned. ‘Not quite following you.’

‘When was the head buried, Stanley? That’s what I need to know.’

She began checking through her files, making sure the photographs had been replaced in the same order. Closing the file, she stood up.

‘Time to go.’