Stop Dead (DI Geraldine Steel)

swivelled round in his seat, and for the first time registered what he was seeing. He glanced away, blinked, and looked round again in disbelief.

     
    Barely a couple of feet away from him a man’s face was glaring straight at him, from beneath a busy cloud of black flies. The body was all but concealed in tangled undergrowth on an incline in the shrubbery, visible only to someone who happened to glance out of a passing train from just the right position. It could have been there for days. Gideon twisted right round in his seat to study the figure more carefully. There was no mistaking what he was seeing: a man, grey-haired, lying on his side, his ashen face partly obscured by tall grasses, nettles and other weeds. Gideon told himself the man was sleeping, some old tramp with nowhere else to go, but flies were crawling all over the inert face, and by craning his neck he was able to make out a patch of congealed blood on the man’s temple. He was dead alright. Gideon turned back to the train, shocked and nauseous. There were so many flies buzzing around the body.

     
    Just then the train shuddered into motion and Gideon slid away from the hideous sight, still hesitating about what to do. The middle-aged man packed his reading material neatly away in a briefcase, the stout lady gathered up her carrier bags and clambered to her feet, the young woman stood up and shuffled towards the door, and the teenager sprang to his feet his head still nodding in time to the rhythm of his music. Gideon decided to put the hideous spectacle out of his mind and continue with his day as though nothing had happened. After all, nothing had happened. Nothing that concerned him, at any rate. The dead man would be discovered sooner or later by some railway employee, and no one would ever know that Gideon had caught a glimpse of it from a passing train; if he hadn’t turned his head when the train was at a standstill he would never have seen it.

     
    But he had turned his head and seen a dead body covered in flies.

     
    He barely managed to leap from the train before he threw up on the platform, narrowly missing his shoes, faintly aware of other passengers skirting around him and rushing away. Hearing a wheezing he glanced up to catch a glimpse of disgust on the overweight woman’s face as she hurried past. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, conscious of the smell of his vomit, and walked slowly over to a bench. He needed to think, although he knew there was only one course of action open to him. He had no idea who the poor fellow was, lying out there smothered in flies, but he couldn’t just walk away and leave him there.

     
    Clearing his throat nervously he accosted a station guard at the barrier.
    ‘I want to report an incident,’ he said and paused, trying to think of the right words.
    ‘Oh yes? Is it a complaint form you want?’
    The guard gazed apathetically at Gideon.
    ‘No. It’s nothing like that.’
    He hesitated.
    ‘Is it a suspicious package?’ the guard prompted him indifferently.
    ‘No. There’s a dead body.’
    He had the guard’s interest now.

     
    ‘A dead person on the train?’
    ‘No.’
    Gideon could hear himself gabbling as he explained.
    ‘Slow down, mate,’ the guard interrupted him. ‘You’re sure about this?’
    ‘I’m sure.’
    Glancing up he noticed the station clock and realised he was going to be late for his stepfather’s lunch.
    ‘Look, I’ve got to go –’ he began.
    The guard shook his head at Gideon.
    ‘You’ll have to wait here, mate. The police are going to want to talk to you.’

CHAPTER 27
     
    ‘W here the hell are we going now? It’s not our patch. Why doesn’t anyone ever tell us what’s going on?’
    They were sitting on the tube, travelling west to Rayner’s Lane station. Normally Sam was keen to visit crime scenes and busy herself with all the activity associated with a murder investigation, anything that took her away from sitting at a desk entering reports on the system, but today she was cantankerous.
    ‘I hope this isn’t going to take too long.’
    ‘It’ll take as long as it takes,’ Geraldine replied evenly, ‘but it could be a long day. We’ll just have to see how it goes. We can get off as soon as we’ve done what needs to be done.’

     
    Sam groaned.
    ‘You know what the job involves. This is nothing new. So what are you complaining about? What’s the problem?’ Geraldine asked her.
    The sergeant shrugged.
    ‘No problem – it’s