Talbot stopped at the chocolate machine on the platform and fed some change into it. He punched the
button for a WholeNut but nothing happened. He hit it again.
Still nothing.
‘Shit.’ murmured the DI.
‘His name was Peter Hyde,’ a voice beside him said.
Talbot nodded but seemed more intent on wresting the chocolate from the machine.
He struck the button a little harder.
‘All that about the King’s Cross fire being started by a match’ said Talbot.
‘That’s crap.’ He eyed the machine irritably. ‘It was someone trying to get a bar of chocolate out of one of these fucking things.’
He slammed his hand against the machine.
The WholeNut dropped into the slot at the bottom and Talbot smiled, retrieved it, and held it up like a trophy.
‘See, that’s all they understand. Violence.’ He looked at Detective Sergeant William Rafferty and nodded triumphantly, breaking off a square of chocolate and pushing it into his mouth.
‘What else?’ the DI wanted to know, pacing slowly up the platform with his companion.
‘He worked for a firm of accountants in the City’ Rafferty told him. ‘Good salary. Married. No kids. Almost thirty-one.’
Talbot offered him a piece of chocolate but the DS declined.
‘I’d rather have a fag.’ he said, gruffly.
‘Smoking’s bad for you.’
‘Yeah, and so is eating ten bars of chocolate a day. You’ve been worse since you gave up smoking.’
‘Fatter but healthier,’ said Talbot smugly, patting the beginnings of a belly which was pushing rather too
insistently against his shirt. ‘Anyway, a bit of exercise will get rid of that.’
‘You’ll be like a bloody house-side before you’re forty’ Rafferty told him, smiling.
‘Four years to go, Bill’ Talbot murmured, pushing another square of chocolate into his mouth. ‘Thanks for reminding me, you bastard.’
They continued their leisurely stroll up the platform. ‘Why did the Transport Police call us in?’ Talbot wanted to know. ‘They don’t usually for a suicide.’
‘They’re not sure it was a suicide.’ ‘How come? Did someone see him pushed?’
Rafferty shook his head. ‘They just think-‘ Talbot cut him short. ‘It’s a suicide, Bill, take it from me’ the DI said, stopping and motioning behind him. ‘The bloodstains on the platform and track are right near the tunnel mouth. He wanted to make sure that if the live rail didn’t fry him then the impact of the train would kill him. Some of the dickheads who try and kill themselves down here jump from the middle of the platform. That gives the driver plenty of time to see them so he hits the brake and, nine times out of ten, the train doesn’t even hit them. Runs over them maybe. They might lose an arm or leg, get some nasty burns from the live rail, but that’s it. They jump from the middle because they’re not sure.’ He shrugged. ‘Same as the ones who cut their wrists, you know that. If they cut across the veins of the wrist they bleed slower. They want someone to find them. The ones that do it from elbow to wrist, now they’re not fucking about. They’re sure. So was Hyde, that’s why he went off near the tunnel mouth.’
‘We couldn’t get much out of the driver, poor sod’s still in shock,’ said the DS.
‘I’m not surprised. What about the other witnesses?’
‘We’re taking statements upstairs now.
Talbot nodded.
‘Even money he topped himself,’ the DI said, looking down at the group of uniformed men gathered around the body. They moved aside.
‘Shit’ muttered Rafferty, staring at the corpse.
The stench of burned flesh was almost overpowering now.
‘Where’s his right leg?’ Talbot wanted to know.
‘The train took it off at the hip, we found it ten yards further down the track.’ Rafferty replied.
‘I want a full autopsy report as soon as possible,’ the DI said. ‘And one other thing, Bill.’ Talbot pushed another piece of chocolate into his mouth, ‘someone had better tell his wife.’
Four
Catherine Reed felt sweat beading on her top lip. She tasted the salty fluid as she licked her tongue across it, her breath coming in gasps now.
Her long dark hair was plastered across her face and neck, the flesh there also covered in a sheen of perspiration.
She tried to swallow but her throat was dry, she could only manage a deep moan of satisfaction as the sensations grew stronger. She lifted her feet, wrapping her slender legs around the form above her.
Phillip Cross had his eyes closed, his own body and face covered in sweat as he kept up a steady rhythm, supporting his weight on his fists as he drove swiftly, deeply, into Cath.
‘Oh Jesus!’ she murmured, her legs gripping him tighter, her fingers now clawing at his back and buttocks as if to pull him deeper. ‘Go on. Go on.’
He opened his eyes and looked down at her pleasure-contorted face, an expression of joy etched on his own features as he continued with the hard thrusts.
The phone rang.
‘Shit,’ gasped Cross, slowing up slightly.
‘Don’t stop.’ Cath moaned.
The phone continued to ring.
Cross withdrew slightly.
‘Leave it.’ grunted Cath.
The answering machine clicked on.
Cath hardly heard the voice on the other end of the phone, her own growing exhortations drowned it out.
She pulled Cross closer to her.
‘I know you’re there, so pick up the bloody phone.’ said the voice, sharply.
Cross looked across at the phone and the machine on the bedside table.
He slowed his pace, his own breathing still laboured.
‘Leave it.’ Cath implored.
‘Phil,’ the voice continued. ‘Pick the fucking thing up, this is important.’
They both recognised the voice.
Cross shrugged and ruefully eased himself free.
Cath allowed her legs to slide from his glistening back, her chest heaving, perspiration running in rivulets between her breasts.
Cross snatched up the phone. ‘Cross here.’ he said, clearing his throat. Cath didn’t wait to hear what he had to say. She swung herself off the bed and padded through to the bathroom, the blood pounding in her veins. She twisted the cold tap and splashed her face with water, studying her reflection in the mirror as she looked up. Her dark hair was ruffled, still matted with sweat at the nape of her neck. She eased it away with one hand. Naked, she stood before the mirror, glancing at the image which greeted her. Her smooth skin was tinged pink, particularly around her face, neck and breasts. She let out a deep breath, catching the odd word drifting through from the bedroom.
Why the hell couldn’t he have let the bloody thing ring?
She heard Cross say something else, then the sound of the receiver being replaced.
Cath stood where she was, finally seeing Cross’s reflection in the mirror behind her.
He too was naked and, she noticed, still sporting an erection.
‘That was Nicholls.’
‘I gathered that,’ she said. ‘Do you always jump when you hear his voice?’
There was an edge to her tone which Cross chose to ignore.
‘I’ve got to go to Euston. Now,’ he told her. ‘Some geezer’s just topped himself, Nicholls wants pictures. Do you want to come?’
She looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
‘If you hadn’t picked up that bloody phone I would have done,’ she said, a slight smile touching her lips.
‘Ha, bloody ha. So, what’s your answer? I’m going to be gone about an hour. Nicholls said he called me because he knew I was nearer.’
‘How convenient for him.’ Cath said, heading back towards the bedroom where she lit up a cigarette. ‘It’s a good job you live in Camden and not Chelsea, isn’t it?’