Murder Club - Mark Pearson [8]
‘On the handle?’
‘It means driving the train,’ said the male constable, a tad patronisingly.
‘I thought they drove themselves mainly?’
‘Only on the Victoria and Central Lines, sir,’ said Emily Wood.
‘That’s right,’ agreed the driver.
‘Can I ask what difference it makes?’ said Constable Randall.
Tony Hamilton gave him a flat look. ‘No,’ he said. ‘You can’t.’
‘He means was my concentration focused elsewhere, so that I might not have seen clearly what happened.’
‘And was it?’
‘No, like I said. It happened very quickly – he hit into the window facing away from me, his right arm raised, and then he was down and under the wheels.’
DI Hamilton grimaced. ‘I imagine that would be quite stressful for you.’
‘You would be right, Detective. I may well reconsider my position. Once was bad enough; twice is …’ He paused, looking for the right words. ‘As you say, very stressful.’
The detective walked over to the table where a small, battered suitcase had been opened and some items of clothing were placed in evidence bags.
‘Nobody handled these?’ he asked the Soco officer who stood beside the table.
‘Just me.’
‘Good.’
The detective turned back to Emily Wood. ‘And there was no identification on him? No wallet? Nothing?’
‘No, sir, just that card.’
She pointed to a smaller evidence bag. DI Hamilton picked it up and looked at the card. It showed a picture of a medieval man hanging by his one foot from a T-shaped tree. Red hose, blue jerkin and a yellow corona around his head. The Hanged Man.
‘Tarot card, sir,’ said Emily Wood.
‘I can see that.’
‘Major Arcana.’
‘You know about this kind of stuff?’
‘A little, sir. My mother is very into it.’
‘What does it signify?’
‘Do you think it is important?’ asked her colleague.
DI Hamilton shrugged. ‘I have absolutely no idea. It’s what we detectives do, Constable. Find clues. See what they mean.’
‘He killed himself. He jumped in front of a train. No one saw him pushed. And there were lots of people there. It’s no great mystery.’
‘I tell you what, Constable. Why don’t you do your job and let me do mine?’
‘I was just saying—’
‘Well, don’t,’ Tony interrupted him. ‘Just button it! Go on, Emily, tell me more.’
The constable grinned, as much at her colleague’s scowling face as flirting with the detective.
‘It’s a Major Arcana card, sir.’
‘Which means?’
‘Well, there are two types of card in the tarot deck. Major and minor arcana. Bit like in an ordinary deck, with the court cards and the ordinary cards.’
‘So what does the Hanged Man signify?’
‘It’s really to do with being in a hiatus, sir. A suspension, if you like. Spiritually. When the man is righted, everything will be different.’
‘It was certainly different for him.’
‘It certainly was,’ she agreed.
‘And there was just female clothing in the case?’
‘Yes, sir,’ the forensic officer nodded.
‘So our John Doe was a transvestite?’
‘Looks that way, sir,’ added Constable Wood.
‘Couldn’t live with it, so he jumped in front of the seven-thirty Bakerloo Line to Harrow and Wealdstone.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ said the scene-of-crime officer.
‘Go on?’
‘The underwear, sir. Female.’
‘Yes.’
‘Semen stains, by the looks of it. And blood, sir.’
‘I see.’
‘What does it mean?’ asked Emily Wood.
Detective Inspector Hamilton flashed her a mirthless smile. ‘I have absolutely no idea,’ he said.
5.
May Bank Holiday …
JASON KELLING SHIFTED into fourth gear and put his foot down. He was driving along the Western Avenue at one o’clock in the morning. He had been out clubbing, but hadn’t exceeded the alcohol limit. He was very careful like that. He was exceeding the speed limit, though.
He felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins as the speedometer dial reached the 100 mph point. He leaned his head back and shouted, gripping the wheel tightly, feeling the car – a Porsche Boxter in midnight-black – still accelerating.
Ten minutes later as he tried to brake and couldn’t, he was shouting again, this time the shout turning into a scream. The wreckage was strewn over fifty yards.
A week later, Jennifer and Jeremy Carling