Taste of Blood

Chapter Seven

Jane and Stanley arrived at the ICU department and approached Staff Nurse Collins, who was looking tight-lipped and irritable. She was sitting behind the nurse’s counter, her oversized bosom resting on the desk as she leaned forwards.

‘Mr Simoni instructed me to tell you to go to the X-ray unit on the lower-ground floor. Follow the signs in the corridor and report to the receptionist.’

The X-ray receptionist directed them to a viewing section. Dr Wilde was waiting at the open door, looking even more dishevelled than before.

‘Mr Simoni had to return to his office, but he has instructed me to show you some X-rays that he prepared for you. I gather from his notes that you need to look at two frames.’

Jane and Stanley stood side by side looking at two illuminated X-ray images of a skull.

‘What exactly are we looking at?’ Jane asked, becoming impatient.

‘Well, the one on the right was taken while Mr Boon was here, to determine if there were any contusions from his fall. You have to understand that this is not my field, but it clearly indicates...’

He referred to a file then looked at the screen again.

‘. . . that there was no recent damage to the frontal lobe. But Mr Simoni was able to establish that there had been a previous aneurysm in two sections. A second X-ray was therefore required.’

‘Do you have more information about the patient’s previous operation?’ Jane asked.

‘I don’t know, I was just going on my break when Mr Simoni collared me to come in and meet you both here.’

‘How serious was the aneurysm?’

‘I’m not sure, but I would say he is a very lucky man; brain bleeds can often be fatal.’

‘Thank you very much. So is Mr Simoni expecting us in his office?’ Stanley asked. He could see that Jane was almost at the end of her tether.

‘I’ll ring through and find out if he is up there,’ Dr Wilde said.

‘That would be appreciated.’ Stanley followed Dr Wilde out into the corridor while Jane remained to have another look at the X-rays before joining him.

Heading up to the office floor in the lift, Jane glanced at her wristwatch.

‘I can’t believe all this farting around; he told us what time he would be available and now he’s only gracing us with ten minutes.’

Just as they were exiting the lift, Miss White hurried towards them.

‘Oh good, you’re here! Mr Simoni is waiting. I just have to go and get his car as he has an urgent meeting at his practice.’

Stanley knocked on the office door and a deep voice barked, ‘Come in.’

Jane entered first. Mr Simoni was sitting at his desk, wearing a smart pin-striped suit with a pink shirt and a red silk tie. He had half-moon glasses perched on his nose, and curly grey hair. When he stood, he was surprisingly small in stature. Jane made the introductions as Stanley proffered the envelope containing the warrant. Mr Simoni took it from him, quickly opened the envelope and without reading it passed it back.

‘Good. I like to make sure everything is in order to avoid future difficulties. So I presume you have seen the X-rays. My prognosis regarding my patient is very positive. Mr Boon is currently fully functional and does not require any respiratory assistance. His heart is strong and for his age he is a reasonably fit man. We have been monitoring him closely due to the discovery of a previous medical condition that occurred some eight years ago. He was a very lucky man to have been treated so promptly when it happened. He was at a gym, felt dizzy and became sick. He was taken to the emergency clinic in King’s Cross. This was a very fortunate location, and they were able to basically save his life. He was diagnosed with a double brain aneurysm, which was successfully operated on. Some patients do not fully recover mentally and physically, but Mr Boon appeared to have had no lasting problems, and until this present situation he was in very good health.’

Simoni pushed his chair back as if the meeting was over, but Jane raised her hand to indicate that she had not finished. He peered at her over his half-moon spectacles.

‘Mr Simoni, we need to talk to you about the assault.’

‘Well, from the X-rays we see no frontal damage to suggest that he had been struck on his forehead. I think he fell backwards because we detected some bruising at the base of his skull and the damage from his previous aneurysm is likely to have exacerbated his condition. I made the decision to place him into a coma as that is what I would describe as a healing mechanism.’

‘So, you think he will very likely recover?’ Stanley asked.

‘I most certainly do — although one can never be totally sure. However, it is my professional opinion that a full recovery is imminent.’

‘Just one more thing, Mr Simoni... your secretary told us that you feel Mr Boon has had an upsetting visitor... a Mrs Larsson? Could you tell us what she was doing?’

Simoni sighed and shook his head. ‘Really, my secretary had no business telling you my personal opinions. But Mrs Larsson was intrusive and seemed insistent on visiting Mr Boon, despite being told that it was in his best interests to be kept in a calm atmosphere and that only close relatives should be allowed to enter his cubicle. She bombarded me with questions regarding Mr Boon’s recovery — which seemed very irregular given that she was just a neighbour. She was also exceedingly rude to Staff Nurse Collins. So that is why I wrote a note for Miss White to forward to the staff. Now, I think I’ve assisted in every way possible... so if you would excuse me.’

As Jane and Stanley left the hospital, they decided to give Hutton an update before talking to the Caplans. Back at the station, Hutton listened as Stanley outlined the content of their meeting with Mr Simoni.

‘Did Mr Simoni give you a statement?’ she asked.

‘It was just an informal conversation,’ Stanley told her.

‘Well, we are going to need one if this goes any further. But let’s cross that bridge when we know more, and hopefully when Mr Boon has recovered enough to be interviewed.’

Hutton tapped their report.

‘We still need to find the weapon Caplan says Boon was threatening him with. Jane, I think you suggested that the puppy might have picked it up when he ran out of their garden? Perhaps another visit to Mr Caplan can sort this out.’

‘Should we tell Mr Caplan about our meeting with the surgeon this morning?’

Hutton closed the file and handed it back to Stanley.

‘I can’t see why not.’ She sighed. ‘I sincerely hope this can be cleared up quickly so that we can get on with more pressing issues. As it is, this situation has already taken up far too much time and effort.’

To avoid confrontation with the Larssons, Jane parked beside the Range Rover at the front of the Caplans’ property. They rang the bell and waited a few minutes, hearing the dog barking furiously, before Mrs Caplan opened the door, holding onto Buster’s collar, who was straining to get out.

‘Do come in. Sorry about Buster... he is really becoming a bit of a Houdini... he seems to be able to escape from anything.’

As soon as the front door was closed, the puppy ambled off and Mrs Caplan gestured for them to go into the drawing room. The room was beautifully furnished, with pine panels from floor to ceiling and a tasteful pair of velvet sofas.

‘What a beautiful room,’ Jane said, admiringly.

‘Yes, it was lucky when the fire broke out that the panels weren’t touched. The fire started on the second floor and spread upwards, blowing half the roof off. Most of the damage was from the water they used to put it out though. It’s hard to believe what state the property was in when we bought it.’

Stanley gestured to a baby grand piano with an array of silver-framed family photographs above the closed lid.

‘Do you play?’ he asked, sitting on the arm of one of the elaborate sofas.

‘I used to, but it really needs a good tuning. David is quite an accomplished pianist. Apparently, the previous owner’s son was a musician. He used one of the bedrooms upstairs as a studio.’

She crossed to a glass-topped coffee table and picked up a large leather-bound album. She sat down on the sofa and Jane joined her.

‘As you can see, the fire really damaged the upper storey above the kitchen, and the third floor.’

Alice turned one page after another, full of photographs of the charred interior. She then tapped a double page of photographs.

‘This is the son’s bedroom. Presumably he painted these murals, which are quite horrific... a lot of devils, and one wall was covered in thick, black-painted poetry. I believe he was a guitarist, so I suppose they were lyrics. He was obviously a great fan of The Doors: on one section were the words to one of their most famous songs, “The End”.’ She shuddered.

‘Did you ever get to meet him?’ Jane asked.

‘No, we only had a few meetings with Victor Hoffman... he always seemed anxious. I don’t know if my husband told you, but we came to view the property via an estate agent, and although we could see that it had great potential we were actually warned off, and advised not to consider making an offer as Mr Hoffman was bankrupt, so we continued looking around. We then found out some months later that there had been a fire, and David and I came round on the off-chance, just interested to see how much damage had been done. Anyway, David offered to do a deal and said that he would pay off Mr Hoffman’s debts, and negotiated a very good price for the house.’

Alice turned more of the album pages showing the other rooms on the top floor that had been damaged. She then began to show Jane the finished interiors.

‘I think Mr Hoffman’s original intention was to convert the house into apartments. But I think planning permission was refused and I suppose the financers who were backing his project pulled out. Mr Hoffman did say something about an associate letting them down, and I know he and his wife then got divorced, and I believe he returned to live in Berlin.’

‘What was she like, his wife?’ Jane asked.

Alice closed the album and shrugged.

‘She was, or had been, a very attractive woman... but she always seemed to me to be very nervous. I think she was maybe Italian, very long braided dark hair, she wore long floating garments, lots of silver bangles. She sort of stayed in the background when we first came here. She did come back quite a while ago, it must have been when we had started the renovations. She didn’t want to come in, just asked if her son had been round because she was worried that he might not know her new address. I told her we hadn’t seen him. Anyway, she gave me a card with her contact numbers and address, and I promised that if her son ever came by I would pass them on to him.’

Buster began barking furiously as the front door opened and David Caplan called out. Mrs Caplan hurried into the hall to tell him that Jane and Stanley were there, while she dragged Buster away. He walked in, removing his overcoat.

‘God, I hope this isn’t bad news?’

‘No, just an informal catch-up, Mr Caplan,’ Stanley said. ‘We spoke to Mr Boon’s surgeon today and it appears that he’s doing well.’

‘Is he out of the coma then?’

‘Not yet, but his surgeon seems confident that he will make a full recovery.’

Mr Caplan smiled. ‘Thank God! So, what happens now?’

‘We need to wait until Mr Boon is out of the coma so we can take a statement,’ Jane said, glancing at Stanley. ‘However, we just want to clear up a few things; they may sound pedantic, but it is much better to have everything clarified in case he does wish to press assault charges.’

Mr Caplan’s smile disappeared. ‘Terrific, that still puts me under a lot of stress.’

‘This stick, or iron bar,’ Jane said. ‘Our searches still haven’t turned it up. We wondered if perhaps your puppy may have picked it up and run off into the tarmacked area with it. However, there is a big difference between a stick, Mr Caplan, and an iron bar.’

‘Yes, I am aware of that; all I do know is that he held it close to his body and his hand was clenched around it. To be honest, I am unsure if I would actually describe it as an iron bar, but it definitely wasn’t just a random stick... it was about fourteen inches long.’

‘Could it have been something like a baseball bat?’ Stanley asked.

‘No, no, that would have been much larger.’

‘So, it could have been something Buster might have picked up and run off with?’

‘I suppose so, but he was not on the loose for very long. I went out into the courtyard and brought him back.’

Stanley got up and suggested to Mr Caplan that they both have a quick look over the exact area in the courtyard where he had found Buster after the incident.

Mrs Caplan returned, clutching a piece of paper. ‘Are you leaving?’

‘We’re just going to have another look around the garden,’ Jane said, ‘and then we’ll be on our way.’

Mrs Caplan handed Jane the piece of paper. ‘I just went into David’s study. I knew I had kept Mrs Hoffman’s address somewhere, but whether she’s still living there I don’t know.’

She also showed Jane the original card Mrs Hoffman had left. It was an embossed ‘Thank you’ card with tiny pressed flowers.

‘I think she must have made it; rather pretty, isn’t it?’

‘Thank you.’ Jane nodded and put the note in her briefcase. She then looked over towards the piano, topped with the photographs. ‘Tell me about your family,’ she said with a smile.

Fifteen minutes later Stanley returned with Mr Caplan, having had no success in their search for the ‘weapon’.

‘Buster wouldn’t have had time to bury it,’ Stanley said. ‘So it doesn’t look like it’s there.’

‘Well, thank you for looking,’ Jane said as they left.

Back in the car, Jane told Stanley what she’d learned from Alice Caplan.

‘Alice is actually David Caplan’s second wife. He was previously married to an American architect and lived in Los Angeles. They had three children, but it was a reasonably amicable divorce. I think David Caplan has a successful business, but Alice is the daughter of a wealthy landowner, and I would say she probably has more money.’

‘Well, at least we know they are not hurting for money.’

Jane drove into the station car park. Both of them reckoned they could finish their reports and get off early that afternoon. Sitting at her desk typing up the details from the afternoon’s visit, Jane also made a note of Mrs Hoffman’s address and contact number, in case they might need, at some point, to meet with her. It seemed odd that she had not had any contact with her son since they had sold the house.

Stanley had already left the station by the time Jane finished her report and filed it. By 5.15 p.m. she was eager to get home, and it was just after 6 p.m. when she let herself in. She knew Eddie was not coming back until late, so she decided to make a toasted cheese sandwich accompanied by a glass of wine. She carried the tray up to her bedroom and watched the news, then ran a bath and washed her hair.

Jane sat in front of her dressing-table mirror, blow-drying her hair, then curled the centre section up into large rollers, with one either side of her head. She put on an old pair of pyjamas and got into bed to watch TV, plumping up the pillows so she’d still be comfortable with the rollers in. But before she could even turn the TV on, her eyes had closed and she’d fallen asleep.