To Dwell in Darkness by Deborah Crombie Read Free Book Online

discipline her random thoughts. “Andy and Poppy are the band,” she answered, trying to collect herself. “They were playing when the . . . device . . . went off. Tam is Andy’s—the guitarist’s—manager. They’re—we’re—family friends.”
    â€œWhat were you doing here?”
    She was tempted to say that she had just as much right to walk through the station as anyone else, then wondered what it was about the man that made her feel so stroppy. “I’d come for the concert. I’d just got here when it happened.”
    â€œYou ran towards the fire.”
    Melody wasn’t sure if it was a criticism or a commendation. “I did my job.”
    â€œDid you see anything—or anyone—else?”
    â€œI—”
    Sidana, Kincaid’s new DI, interrupted her. “Sorry. But the SOCOs are here.”
    Turning, Melody saw two crime scene techs, already suited, and a plainclothes officer she didn’t recognize. He wore a long camel-hair overcoat that looked too snug on his overly muscular frame.
    Behind him, wearing a familiar black leather jacket and carrying a bag, was Rashid Kaleem, the Home Office pathologist. Kaleem was one of a dozen pathologists on the rota for Greater London, but Melody had worked with him often enough to consider him a friend. They’d met during the case in East London that had brought Charlotte to Kincaid and Gemma.
    Rashid flashed her his brilliant smile. “Melody, what are you doing here?” he asked as he pulled a sealed Tyvek suit from his kit. “Surely this isn’t South London’s case?”
    â€œI just happened to be here. But what are you—”
    â€œDuncan rang me.” He slipped on the blue crinkly suit with practiced ease, then the shoe coverings. “Asked if I was on call. So what have we got?”
    â€œCrispy critter,” said one of the crime scene techs. “Better you than me, mate, having to deal with the remains.”
    Kincaid returned to the group. He wasn’t wearing his respirator, and his face was grim. He nodded to the pathologist. “Rashid, thanks for coming.” To the others, he added, “The brigade crew manager says he thinks we can do without the respirators now. This concourse is a wind tunnel. And I’ve had the station manager on the phone. We need to get this scene cleared. ASAP.”
    As they walked back towards the corpse, Kincaid said to Melody, “Can you tell me exactly what happened?”
    â€œI was late. Andy and Poppy were already playing. I stood at the back. Then, there was a whooshing sound—no, wait.” Melody frowned. “No, that’s not all.” The scene came back to her jerkily, like rewound film. She coughed and cleared her raw throat. “I saw some protesters. Half a dozen, maybe. Over there.” She pointed towards the Marks & Spencer. “They had placards but I couldn’t read them. I remember thinking what a nuisance. I didn’t want them to spoil Andy and Poppy’s show, and I didn’t want to have to deal with them. Officially, you know. Then I saw a British Transport officer, a woman, and I thought, okay, her job. I remember feeling relieved. I looked away and that’s when I heard it. The sound. A whoosh like the gas burner on a hot-air balloon. Then the screaming started.” She realized she was shivering as she finished. Rashid gave her a concerned look.
    Nick Callery picked up the questioning. “You didn’t see the victim before the fire?”
    â€œI looked that way. I saw Tam and Caleb, standing in front of the café. They had coffees. I could tell they’d been sitting, but they’d stood up to see the band, pushing back their chairs. They didn’t see me.” Melody rubbed her face. “No, wait. That was before I saw the protesters. The sequence is all jumbled. But I don’t remember anyone standing out when I