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“I’m on holiday. Not back till Monday. Whatever it is, it can wait!”
“Maybe not,” replied Gardener. “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t a matter of life and death.”
Ronson’s mobile rang again, the trill sound coming from within his coat.
The solicitor rolled his eyes into his head and threw his hands in the air in exasperation.
But Ronson’s eyes never came back round to face Gardener. Instead, he hit the platform like a solid block, his briefcase landing about ten feet away. The woman whose leg it hit started screaming as Gardener knelt and felt for a pulse.
There wasn’t one.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Gardener stood up and immediately assessed the situation, scanning the station for all possible exits, trying to work out how many people were present.
Sean Reilly had his back to him, also glancing around. The train had pulled out of the station, but it was not so far down the track that it couldn’t be stopped.
“Sean, get on the phone and arrange for the team to meet us here. Request extra back-up. As of now, this place is shut.”
Gardener ran across the platform to the booking hall.
As he reached the hall, the clerk was already out of his booth and craning his neck down the track to obtain a better view. He flashed his warrant card.
“What’s your name?”
“Ian, sir. Ian Kelsey.”
“Is the manager around?”
“He’s got an office at the back of the ticket booth.”
“Good, go and get him and do not leave the hall to go out onto the platform. And while you’re at it, get him to stop the train that’s just left.”
Gardener glanced back in Reilly’s direction. He could see his sergeant multi-tasking already. He had his phone in one hand, whilst talking to the porter and pointing at the corpse with the other. At the same time, he was also herding people like sheep towards the waiting room.
Gardener reached the entrance to the station and saw around a dozen people, expectantly waiting, wondering what was going on. Warrant card in hand, he addressed them.
“I’d like each and every one of you to step into the booking hall and remain there until I say so.” Not wanting to waste time waiting for them to do it voluntarily, he began ushering them in himself.
He noted a mixture of expressions, fear, wonder, concern, and annoyance. One person made a comment about police harassment. Gardener swore to himself that if he heard
another word about that, he would show them exactly what police harassment really meant.
As he was about to close the door, he noticed a couple of Panda cars turn up. Six constables jumped out, so he led two of them into the booking hall, then closed and locked the door behind them.
As he turned, he saw Ian Kelsey with the manager. He was perhaps the tallest man Gardener had ever seen, not to mention the thinnest. He had a pale complexion. In fact, Gardener thought Ronson was in better condition, and he’d died within the last five minutes. Gardener showed his card yet again.
“DI Gardener. And your name is?”
“Darren Rafferty, I’m the station manager.”
“There’s been an incident out on the platform. I’m closing your station until further notice.”
“What kind of incident?”
“A man has died, and I have every reason to suspect foul play.”
“Oh my God!” exclaimed Rafferty, bringing his hands to his mouth.
