Taste of Blood

Chapter Thirty-Four

Stanley and Jane returned to interview room one, which now smelled of disinfectant. As soon as they had seated themselves, there was a tap on the door and Burrows ushered in Martin Boon, followed by Colin Chester. The solicitor had a flushed complexion and small features and wore what remained of his hair in an unflattering comb-over. But his unprepossessing appearance belied a steely manner as he acknowledged Stanley with a nod.

Martin Boon sat beside him without expression.

‘Good evening, Mr Chester, I am Detective Inspector Jane Tennison. I believe you know Detective Inspector Stanley.’

Stanley waited a beat as Colin Chester placed his leather-bound notebook and his pen in front of him, then switched on the tape recorder. He stated the date, time and location before repeating the caution.

‘Mr Boon,’ Jane began, ‘this interview relates to the discovery of a human head, which was uncovered in a section of the Clarendon Court courtyard. We have been able to identify the victim as Sebastian Hoffman, who at one time resided in the large property bordering on the courtyard and close to your home.’

Jane removed the post-mortem photograph showing the head in the hemp bag. She placed it between the two men, and continued in the same relaxed manner.

‘Mr Boon, have you ever seen what is depicted in the photograph before? For the benefit of the tape I am describing the bag holding the victim’s severed head.’

Boon remained expressionless. ‘No comment.’

‘Forensic tests match the material, a rough woven hemp fabric, and the rope seen in that photograph in front of you, to items removed from your property.’

Boon clasped his hands together tightly, glancing at his brief, before leaning forwards.

‘No comment.’

Jane already had the second photograph ready.

‘This is a photograph of the victim’s head, wrapped tightly in silver duct tape. Do you recall ever seeing this?’

‘No comment.’

It was Colin Chester who appeared shocked for a moment, quickly regaining his composure, as Jane next withdrew the folded fax sheets and laid them out.

‘Mr Martin, are you able to identify these items?’

There was a pause as both Martin Boon and his brief looked at the pictures. ‘No comment.’

‘For the benefit of the tape, I have just shown Mr Boon pictures of various-sized Gigli saws. The pathologist’s report concluded that the head was severed, at the third vertebra, by a small Gigli saw like this one.’

Jane placed the last fax sheet down.

‘No comment.’

Stanley cracked his knuckles impatiently. Jane was getting nowhere. But she remained calm, taking a sip of water. Colin Chester raised his hand, but she ignored him.

‘Detective Inspector Tennison, I don’t see where this line of enquiry...’

‘Mr Chester,’ Jane interrupted, ‘I’m questioning your client about the brutal murder of a sixteen-year-old neighbour, and so far his only answer has been “no comment”. If he had nothing to do with it, why doesn’t he say so?’

Stanley could see Martin Boon starting to sweat. He wiped his face with the back of his hand.

‘Mr Boon, even if you didn’t murder Sebastian Hoffman, the evidence suggests that you unlawfully disposed of a corpse with intent to protect the person or persons who did. You have to realise that your refusal to answer any questions, even when confronted with incriminating evidence, makes you appear even more guilty.’

Jane rocked back in her chair, then suddenly leaned forwards.

‘We also found on your property a guitar and a guitar case that belonged to Sebastian Hoffman. Could you please explain how you came to have them?’

‘No comment.’

‘I presume that along with the victim’s head, you were instructed to get rid of it. Unless, of course, you murdered him yourself.’

Colin Chester spoke up. ‘That accusation is entirely unwarranted. Unless you...’

‘Mr Chester, if your client refuses to answer my questions, what other conclusion can I come to? So, I am asking you again, Mr Boon, how did you come to have Sebastian Hoffman’s guitar in your home?’

Martin Boon paused, licking his lips. ‘No comment.’

Jane tapped the table with her pencil.

‘I’d suggest that you intended to dispose of the guitar as evidence of Sebastian Hoffman’s murder, but as an amateur musician, you were aware of its value and couldn’t bear to part with it. Your wife has already told us that your finances are somewhat restricted.’

‘Is that a question or a statement, Inspector Tennison?’ Mr Chester said tetchily.

Jane snapped back at him. ‘All right, I’ll make it clear. During the past four years your client has had an expensive kitchen extension built, along with a substantial shed, and has repaved the access to it. How did he pay for all this, if he had no money?’

Mr Chester leaned close to Boon and whispered quietly.

Jane raised her voice. ‘It’s a very simple question, Mr Boon. We know that you couldn’t afford to pay for the tarmacking of the courtyard, so where did the money come from?’

Jane jotted down a note and passed it to Stanley. Martin Boon plucked a tissue from the box to wipe his face.

Stanley glanced at Jane and then at Martin Boon.

‘I can see you are becoming very agitated, Mr Boon, and understandably so. You must realise that on the evidence we have already gathered, you could be charged with the murder of Sebastian Hoffman, and your wife with being an accessory.’ He turned to Chester. ‘I suggest that you advise your client that it would be in his best interest to stop protecting whoever has been manipulating him.’

Boon took a drink of water, his head bowed.

Stanley sighed. ‘Look, Martin, I think you are a decent man, and would not want your wife to suffer, but the only way you can help her is to tell us who killed Sebastian Hoffman.’

Boon kept his head bowed, swallowing hard.

‘Tell us the truth, Martin, get it over with.’

They waited for him to say ‘No comment.’ Instead, he started crying.

An hour later, Stanley and Jane returned to the incident room. There were only two officers left on the night shift manning the phones. It was now after midnight, and they were both exhausted but elated. They decided that they would call it a night, and interview the Larssons first thing in the morning. Before leaving, they stood side by side for a moment, looking over the incident board, as Jane added the new information.

After breaking down, Martin Boon told them that he had received a panicked call from Edward Larsson on the night of 16th March. He was in a terrible state as their daughter had been taken to hospital the day before and had died shortly after being admitted. They had returned home and found Sebastian Martinez trying to climb into their daughter’s bedroom. He had fallen and they claimed he had broken his neck. They blamed him for Georgina’s death, as she had miscarried his baby.

Patricia Larsson had persuaded Martin to help them, promising to pay him twenty-five thousand pounds in cash. He had shown them how to use his Gigli saw but denied he had played any part in dismembering the body. Edward Larsson brought round the head bound in duct tape along with Sebastian’s clothes, rucksack and guitar. He was promised another five thousand pounds if he got rid of everything, but he did not know what they had done with the torso. He had wrapped the head in the hemp sacking and hid it in the garage, then taken the clothes and rucksack to the Princess Alice charity shop. He decided to bury the head in the courtyard, enlarging one of the potholes. He intended to move it at a later date, but then the Larssons ordered the tarmac to be completed.

Jane stood back, checking over their additions to the board, neither of them believing everything Boon had said. But they did now have a clear time frame for Sebastian’s death. He was dead the day after Georgina Larsson’s death. That was 16th March. Martin Boon claimed he had buried the head on 18th March, and the funeral took place three days later.

Stanley watched Jane underline the dates, and then draw an arrow to the date Sebastian Martinez arrived in the UK. She tapped the board with the felt-tipped pen.

‘I think Martin Boon had to have threatened the Larssons, so they coughed up the cash, but he then was caught in a catch-22. Forget that crap about accidental death; they killed him. And now we know why there was so much at stake if that tarmac was dug up by the Caplans.’

‘Unless the boy’s torso is under the tarmac as well,’ Stanley said.

Jane shook her head. ‘I don’t think it is. Right, I don’t know about you, but I need to go home.’

‘Fancy a quick drink first?’ Stanley asked. ‘I’ve got a bottle of Scotch in my desk drawer. Maybe we could decide how we’re going to work it tomorrow. I think I played a blinder after your note, if I do say so myself, so if you need me to step up to the plate again, just say.’

She laughed, crossing to her desk to collect her jacket. ‘You’re a class act, Stanley. But I’ve had it. See you in the morning.’

As the incident door closed behind her, he had already opened his bottle of Scotch. He took a heavy slug and felt the warmth as it went down. They had certainly taken a major step forwards, but there was still a way to go. He took another swig, then put the cap back on the bottle and returned it to the drawer. He knew she would not be satisfied with a verdict of ‘accidental death’, and reckoned tomorrow she would be going for the jugular.

DC Burrows walked in, looking exhausted. ‘Still here?’

‘Just about to go home, what about you?’

‘Yeah, I reckon our guests are sorted for the night, thank God.’

‘How was Martin Boon when he was returned to the cells?’

‘Hutton told us to make sure he was fit, so we had the divisional surgeon check him out. He seemed pretty shaken, was ranting and raving a bit. He was given a couple of paracetamol and a hot chocolate, and when I last checked him, he was snoring his head off.’

‘What about the Larssons?’

‘She’s a piece of work, still making a fuss, but he’s pretty subdued.’

‘What was Boon shouting about?’

‘Something about it being “all over”, pretty garbled really, and his wife has been crying a lot.’

Stanley sighed, exhaustion suddenly hitting him as he shrugged himself into his coat. ‘I’m off. G’night, Bill.’

He left as Burrows went to the incident board to check the night’s progress. He saw the arrow Jane had drawn, linking the date of 16th March to Sebastian Martinez in London. The photograph pinned above it showed a strikingly handsome young teenager, and Burrows was taken aback at how emotional it made him feel. ‘Dear God, what a terrible thing they did to you,’ he murmured.