Murder Club - Mark Pearson [67]
‘Evidence of a Taser?’
‘Yep, hand held, close range. Enough volts to make him jump involuntarily.’
‘Police-issue kind of Taser,’ Emma Halliday added.
‘So this guy who jumped in front of the Bakerloo Line train. We know who he is?’
‘We do now. What I could see of his face looked kind of familiar. I ran some fingerprints. And bingo bongo!’ replied Emma.
‘So the question we need to ask you, Jack …’
‘Yes?’
‘Is where were you at eight-thirty last night?’
‘Are you tugging on my lariat?’
‘Sorry, cowboy,’ said Emma with a wink. ‘But I hear nowadays you’re a married man, good as. So where were you?’
‘Who’s the John Doe.’
‘Michael Robinson, Jack.’
‘Ah.’
‘Indeed.’
‘So, anything you want to tell us?’
Delaney shrugged. ‘It’s four days to Christmas. I haven’t done any shopping. I’ve got a tree to buy, a house to decorate. An unsolved murder to investigate, another possible murder. It’s dark and I’m wearing sunglasses. Now tell me, who do you love?’
Emma smiled and Delaney smiled back at her. ‘Got to love you, Jack.’
‘Where were you, cowboy?’ asked Hamilton. ‘Just for the record.’
Delaney leaned in and whispered in Catwalk Halliday’s ear. The female DI raised an eyebrow.
‘You are fricking kidding me!’ she said.
Delaney gestured apologetically with his hands and Emma smiled again.
‘Everything they say about you is true, isn’t it?’
‘I guess it is.’
‘Like I say, got to love you, Jack!’
‘Anyone want to let me in on the secret?’ said DI Tony Hamilton.
48.
SALLY CARTWRIGHT FLICKED the windscreen wipers to full speed. The snow was really coming down in earnest now and the traffic was crawling through London.
‘You reckon this snow is going to last until Christmas, boss?’ she asked Delaney.
Delaney peered out at Edgware Road station, people bundled up and coming out of the entrance. The shopping spree still in full swing.
‘You done all your Christmas shopping, Sally?’ he asked, ignoring her question.
‘Two weeks ago, sir. Presents wrapped, cards all sent.’
‘What a surprise.’
‘I take it you are not entirely finished?’
‘I haven’t even started. But yeah, I hope it does last for Christmas.’
‘Turning into an old romantic?’
‘Less of the old. And no. I meant for Siobhan’s sake. Christmas, it’s for kids, isn’t it?’
‘And big kids, sir. You’re not fooling anyone.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that.’
‘What did Catwalk and Tony Hamilton want with you?’
‘Some developments in the Michael Robinson case.’
‘What kind of developments?’
‘Someone pushed him under the eight-thirty to Elephant and Castle last night.’
‘Bloody hell! Is he dead?’
‘Let’s just say he didn’t need to buy a return ticket to Harrow-on-the-Hill.’
‘Bloody hell,’ she said again, quieter this time. ‘So why the both of them? And why not just call you?’
‘It was in the way of an official enquiry. They wanted to know where I was at the time.’
‘Well, I can’t say I’m unhappy that he’s dead. What did you tell them?’
‘That I had an alibi.’
‘And do you?’
‘Sally, I am shocked that you could even ask that question,’ he said, shaking his head in mock-sadness.
‘So have they got any leads on who did it?’
‘They think we’ve got us a serial killer. There was a tarot card found in his pocket. A year or so ago another man was under a train with a tarot card from the same deck.’
‘How do they know it’s the same deck?’
‘I meant the same style of deck. Apparently there are hundreds of different decks, different designs. These two were from the same series.’
‘Who was the first guy?’
‘Chap called Andrew Johnson. A publican from a quaint rural town called Lavenham, in the heart of Suffolk.’
‘Any connection between them?’
‘Not sure. But according to Tony Blue-Eyes, he used to live in Harrow before moving to Suffolk.’
‘They knew each other?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Somebody knew them both.’
‘Certainly looks that way.’
Sally Cartwright flicked her indicator down and turned left into the grounds of the hospital. It was an imposing Victorian building, much of the architecture as it originally was, with some modern wings and extensions added. She parked the car and placed the