Lockhart and his fellow PC are dying for the inspector to leave and Barker knows it. He’s an old-fashioned sort, can’t resist asserting his authority, even over these lads, who he thinks of as good lads. He looks at Lockhart and his expression softens a little – he is remembering that Lockhart was clearing body parts off the track less than a week ago.

‘How you doing, son?’ he says. The Coroner Liaison Officer is off on long-term sick leave so Barker has asked Lockhart to get the paperwork together. The lad seems keen enough to do it but he’s wondering whether it was a good idea. Lockhart is a bit soft, as well as keen. Too much university.

Lockhart replies quickly, ‘Fine, sir, thank you for asking,’ but it is a stock response, the knee-jerk reaction of a young PC who would die before he admitted weakness of any sort to a superior officer.

Barker leans against the counter top, still holding his music case. ‘So what’s the latest?’ He doesn’t need to specify about what.

Lockhart says, ‘Thomas Warren, sixty-two years of age, divorced, lived alone. And he was under investigation.’

The other PC says, ‘What for?’

‘Historic sex abuse,’ Lockhart replies.

Barker stands upright and tucks the music case under his arm. ‘Well, he saved the public purse a lot of money, then. Don’t think we’ll be shedding all that many tears on this one, will we?’

‘Guess not, sir,’ the other PC says.

As Barker heads for the door, Lockhart says, ‘Sir, can I just ask something?’

Barker turns, with the air of a man who is hoping it’s a quick question because he’ll be late for rehearsal now if he doesn’t hurry, Saturday traffic and all.

‘That woman that went onto the tracks eighteen months ago. Driver didn’t see her till she was already in the four-foot; I read the Coroner’s Report. But you know what doesn’t make sense? Why did she go over the back through the freight depot, when she could have walked in the front like Thomas Warren? She went over two fences. Bit odd, isn’t it?’

Barker says, ‘Yes …’ He is thinking maybe the lad should be more worried about ISIS targeting Peterborough Station than he is about whether some crazy girl threw herself in front of a train because her boyfriend dumped her or whatever.

‘I dunno, it’s just …’

Barker’s sceptical expression makes Lockhart dry to a halt.

‘Coroner’s verdict was quite clear. Not really the kind of place you’d wander into by accident, is it?’

‘Did anyone do a Victimology?’ Lockhart asks.

‘I would think so,’ Barker replies. ‘Ask CID. She had history, I think, vulnerable person.’