‘Guy was hit by a train.’ The ends of de Vaz’s mouth pulled down in a grimace. ‘He’s all over the place.’

‘Okay, then,’ she said stoically as they approached the inner cordon set up at the station entrance, where she would be obliged to put on Tyvek coveralls over her M&S trouser suit, and shoe covers over her brogues.

Her prematurely white hair – Sasha was only just sliding down the wrong side of forty-five – was already secure, ready for the hood. But because of her pear-shaped body, her slim waist tapering to wide hips, and her legs, which weren’t the longest, she always felt self-conscious walking around in those infernal suits. But then, they made everyone look like a Teletubby. Everyone except Ajay, who always managed to look catwalk-ready.

On the way, her gaze swept across the small crowd that had formed at the entrance of the car park, where the police outer cordon had been established. People had come to see what on earth had happened that would require the attendance of the emergency services, and the quick arrival of a TV camera crew.

A face in the crowd made Sasha do a double take, but when she searched for it again she couldn’t see anyone she knew. Instead, she turned her attention to the nondescript building in front of her. It was as unremarkable as any of the thousands of train stations in towns and villages across the UK, stripped of any character it may have once possessed, the platforms and train tracks sealed off by spiked metal fencing.

Four stops from Southend Victoria on the Shenfield line, the trains that stopped there transported commuters to and from London Liverpool Street, fifty minutes away. But this morning the line was severely disrupted because of the body on the track; it would be out of action for a few hours yet.

‘What do we know?’ she asked as she climbed into a support van to suit up.

‘A man fell in front of a train late last night. The driver said he thought he saw someone else on the platform just before the deceased died. Said he saw them waving about a walking stick. It was dark, of course, and the train flashed past, so he couldn’t be sure.’

‘A walking stick?’ She frowned. ‘Have we got the CCTV footage from the driver’s compartment yet?’

‘We’ve put in a request with the operator.’

‘And how is the driver?’

‘Traumatized,’ said Ajay, ‘as you can well imagine.’

‘Poor man. Is anyone from British Transport Police here yet?’

Because the crime had taken place on railway property, there was a strong chance that BTP would have jurisdiction over it, particularly if it involved a random encounter on the platform.

‘They’re on their way.’

‘And the deceased?’

‘Name’s Andrew Dean. He’s a Southend resident, lives… lived on York Road.’ As she climbed into the Tyvek suit, Ajay held up clear plastic bags containing the victim’s debit card, driving licence and other unidentified items. ‘His wallet was found trackside. All the contents of his pockets were literally slammed from his body when the train hit him.’