Stop Dead (DI Geraldine Steel)

just that it’s Saturday and I’m supposed to be going out this evening. I wouldn’t mind as a rule, but it’s Sally’s sister’s hen night and I promised I’d be there.’
    Geraldine didn’t bother to answer. There was nothing more to say. They both knew what the job demanded of them.

     
    ‘I still don’t get why it has to be us,’ Sam broke her sullen silence. ‘It’s not our area, is it?’
    ‘That’s what makes it so interesting.’
    They fell silent again, considering the implications of the summons they had received. Their presence had been requested by the Homicide Assessment team who had been first on the scene. When Sam spoke again, Geraldine was pleased that she was no longer thinking about her plans for the evening.
    ‘Either the victim is connected to Henshaw, or it’s an identical murder.’

     
    The station was cordoned off. A couple of uniformed constables were turning travellers away at the barrier as Geraldine and Sam crossed to the platform.
    ‘But how long is it going to be closed?’ a woman was asking as they passed.
    ‘I’m sorry, I can’t say, madam.’
    ‘What’s going on? Is it a bomb?’ the shrill voice persisted.
    ‘Some selfish bastard gone and thrown themselves under a train, more like,’ an irate man said.
    ‘I’m afraid I can’t give you any information.’

     
    From the top of a stone staircase, Geraldine spotted the luminous yellow high-vis tactical vest of a British Transport Police officer on the platform and nodded at him, holding up her warrant card. He hurried up the stairs to meet them. Flushed with exertion he led them back down the stairs, past several benches and a waiting room, to the far end of the platform where a small metal gate displayed a notice: Passengers must not pass beyond this point. They descended a ramp with rusty railings running down the side of the slope furthest from the track. At the bottom the officer turned sharp right, away from the train track, to where a forensic tent stood on long grass in front of a barbed wire fence bearing a sign: No rubbish to be deposited. Geraldine was glad she wasn’t wearing a skirt as they clambered over rough ground, through nettles and stout brambles that would have torn her tights to shreds and scratched her legs. As it was, thorns nicked her trousers, catching at the fabric.

     
    ‘The line’s suspended eastbound,’ the officer explained. ‘The trains are going straight through so you won’t be disturbed.’
    ‘Not by trains anyway,’ Sam muttered.
    On the far side of the tent, the police officer pointed to a break in the wire fence.
    ‘That’s where the body must have been dragged through – the grass was flattened and the brambles broken, but there’s nothing to indicate who brought it here.’
    Beyond a grass verge on the other side of the fence they could make out a narrow track.
    ‘There’s a car park further along,’ their guide added, following the direction of Geraldine’s gaze. ‘SOCOs are still examining it.’

     
    Inside the tent, Geraldine gazed down in surprise at a body lying in the glare of bright lights, its face horribly contorted and stained on one side with dark blood from a head wound. The victim was lying on his back with one arm flung upwards as though caught in a vain attempt to ward off his attacker. His head was turned to one side towards the train line, eyes wide open, mouth gaping in a silent cry of protest. Geraldine could only see his face, chest and legs. His torso was concealed behind the kneeling figure of a pathologist who was examining the body, but she could see that his clothes had been cut open.

     
    She turned to a scene of crime officer who was hovering behind her.
    ‘What’s the story here?’
    The officer stepped forward, his eyes peering anxiously at her above his mask.
    ‘The body’s related to your current case, ma’am. We should have an identity soon –’
    Geraldine interrupted him.
    ‘That’s George Corless.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘George Corless. He’s the business partner of the victim in the case I’m investigating.’
    ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘I’m positive. I questioned him only yesterday.’
    ‘Well, that saves us a bit of time,’ the SOCO replied, suddenly cheering up.

     
    Geraldine felt an unaccustomed sense of revulsion in the presence of death. She had seen bodies of people she had met before they died, family members she had known for years, including her own adopted mother, but this was the first