It's alright for some," said Sergeant Ian Steven's deep voice as the cool morning breeze woke Joyce.

Her eyes half opened. "Is this the real world?"

"Time you made a move. The Home Office Pathologist, Morag Temple, is inspecting the body. The cause of death is clear, so I imagine his remains will soon be on their way to the morgue. There's a police van with eight men waiting for instruction," he pointed, "over there. I also have a guy from the railway asking when he can open the tunnel."

"Ask me after my search team to check every inch of the tunnel. You never know. We could find a clue."

She gave Roger a nudge.

"I'm awake, and I need a pee."

She chuckled. "I'll start making my way to the tunnel."

From the top of the embankment, she watched four men climb the slope carrying a coffin. A few paces behind, a red-haired woman of slim build followed.

"Morag Temple?" asked Joyce.

The woman glanced at Joyce. "I know who I am. You are?"

"Joyce Parsons, Chief Inspector. Did you find any definite identification?"

Morag stopped on the level ground. "The train wrecked his carcass. We've bagged and tagged every piece we could find. His head, feet and hands have remained untouched. Do you want a peek?"

"I'll follow you back to the van. It'll be easier there."

At the van, the men rested the coffin on the ground. One removed the securing clasps and slid the lid back. Another took out one plastic bag.

"This is the gentleman's head." He opened the top enough for Joyce to peer inside.

"Rather messy, but I know him. He always was a sad, sorry excuse for a man. We have a live all-points bulletin out. Murdered his partner. Not a nice guy, but two kids are now orphans."

Roger glanced over Joyce's shoulder. "Being deceased will save one hell of a lot of paperwork. Hard to believe he was alive and killing his partner twelve hours ago."

"Morag," said Joyce. "I'm not teaching you to suck eggs, but he didn't tie himself to the rails. If he had been conscious before death, it would have taken several people to carry and secure him. Any thoughts?"

"Drugged is my first thought. I'll check in the morgue when we start piecing the remains together."

"Thanks. Come on, Roger, we have work to do. Go and direct those coppers sitting in the wagon to shift their arses. I want the tunnel checked from the far end to this end. They won't be happy, but I don't want them stomping through from this end. They can walk to the other end. Inform the Sergeant in charge to keep his eyes open for anything, and I mean anything unusual."

"He's an experienced man, boss."

"Tell him to kick arse."

"Yes, boss."

"You can join me in checking the scene. Morag, do you have any spare bags?"

Morag handed her a handful. "Happy?"

Joyce chuckled. "I hope so. Where's my Inspector?" She saw him giving orders to the search team.

"Roger, I'll see you at the tunnel entrance."

Whether he heard or not, he did not acknowledge her message.

Joyce descended the slope one short step at a time until she reached the rail track. With long strides, she stepped from one concrete sleeper to the next.

"On my way, boss," shouted Roger.

Distracted, Joyce stumbled and fell between the lines. Bleeding from her right palm, she lifted herself to face Roger, charging along the track. The glint of a tiny L-shaped gold earring flashed in the morning light. Without thinking, she shoved it into her pocket.

"Are you alright, boss?"

She rose to her feet and wiped the blood from her palm using her handkerchief and spit. "I'll have a few bruises where no one will see them, but I'm okay. Let's get on with the job."

The installed lighting lit the tunnel well. Joyce and Roger inched their way forward. They stopped when they came across the wire still wrapped around the rails.

Roger examined it. "Conscious or not, he would never escape without a pair of wire cutters and a free hand to use them. From my knowledge of electrics, this is earth bonding wire. Tough and durable. Pound to a penny nicked from a building site."

"Correct," said Joyce. "The empty thirty-metre spool is in this recess. We'll bag it, but I doubt it's useful."

Roger peered under the rail wagon. "Plenty of this gentleman spread around."

Joyce shone her torch into another recess. "We were lucky the head survived as it did. Luckily, we can take a set of prints off the hands."

Two hours elapsed before Joyce stopped searching. "There's nothing much here. Roger, you can chat with Morag at the morgue. I'll update the boss."

"What are you going to tell him?"

Joyce hesitated before glancing at her watch. "One murder solved and the other unlikely to be unless...."

"Unless, what?"

"Unless our team finds something in the tunnel after completing a fingertip search. Whoever tied the victim to the tracks removed everything except his driving licence. That should tell us something."

"Are you implying an eye for an eye or a bog standard revenge killing?"

"You might be right. We'll have met some of those who dumped this piece of shit here. The girls will be pleased he's gone. I'll need a lift back to the station."

Roger helped Joyce up the embankment. Together, they stood next to his red five-year-old Audi Quatro.

He checked the time: almost midday. "All I can say is I hope he was dead before they wired him to the rails. Can you imagine the fear? The rails would vibrate until you could hear the engine. One moment after you saw it, oblivion."

The Sergeant from the tunnel search team arrived. "Sergeant Hoskins, boss. So far, nothing. A few fag packets, but the tunnel is as clean as a whistle."

Joyce ran her fingers through her hair. "How far are you?"

"Halfway, boss."

She cast a glance over the field, now filled with vehicles. "To be fair, Sergeant, you have to complete the search. If you don't investigate, you'll never find."

"The lads were asking if a break might be acceptable."

Joyce smiled. "Where would they get a cup of tea from around here?"

The Sergeant lowered his head as he smiled. "We have the makings in the van. On the way here, we stopped at the baker's and bought at least two filled rolls each and a bag of doughnuts. We brew the tea using a camping stove. You could say Standard Operating Procedure, boss."

"Been a while since I attended a messy murder. I want one man at either end of the tunnel. No one is to enter, especially newspaper reporters. Roger, you have a morgue to visit, and I must return to the station. Sergeant Hoskins, you are the senior officer here. Don't fuck up."

***

Back in her office, Joyce sipped her cup of coffee and relaxed. For a change, she had time to gather her thoughts. The Chief could not see her until two thirty. She sat back in her chair, reached into her pocket, and removed the gold earring. "Ratner's," she said aloud. Cheap and cheerful and as common as muck. However, she had a good idea who it might belong to. The girls who worked the streets wore cheap jewellery. From memory, the name Laura came to mind. No other had a name which started with L. The downside was she doubted she could prove anything. A half-decent brief would dismiss the earring as one of thousands produced. She dropped it into her top drawer, finished her coffee, and headed for her boss's office.

***

"Morning, Sara. I have a meeting with the governor."

Sara Sharpe nodded. "Congratulations on your promotion. Go straight in."

Julian glanced at Joyce as she entered and pointed to a chair. "Must finish this. Two minutes, and I'll be with you."

"Not a problem, sir."

He dropped his pen onto the desk. "Now tell me what's happening out in the real world."

"For a change, it's straightforward. Yesterday Carol Parmenter's pimp stabbed her to death. This morning, his body is a bloody mess under a train. Someone tied him with wire to the rails and let the train take the strain. Do I know who did it? I have an idea but couldn't prove it in a month of Sundays."

Julian leaned back in his chair, churched his fingers and smiled. "I'm impressed. You haven't asked why I had you dragged out of bed. Unfortunately, the duty DCI Alex Butcher tumbled from his landing to the bottom of the stairs in his home. The hospital report states one leg busted. I doubt we'll see him on active duty for at least six months. He was edging towards retirement anyway. I intended to leave you on crime prevention and domestics. Life has done you a favour. You are now a significant crime DCI. Part of the top team. You can refuse the position but never get the opportunity again while I'm here. Please give me your answer now."

"Thanks for the chance to prove myself, boss."

"Out of interest, who are your prime suspects?"

"Apart from his driving licence, his pockets were empty. As I said, I'll never prove it, but I suspect a revenge killing. Carol Parmenter was a mother hen to the street girls. Her street instinct was second to none. If she nodded when a punter arrived, the girls would be busy.

"My thoughts they drugged the bastard before six or more of them took him to the tunnel and did the business."

Julian rubbed his chin. "Thought-provoking premise, but why not cook him with coke and push him off the top of a high rise?"

"Only an observation, but they wanted him to hear and see the train coming."

"Not good. Proceed with the usual questioning, but without evidence, we're wasting police time. No one will miss the creep. Oh, by the way, I've put your name forward to complete weapon training. Goes with your new job."

"I'll give this case a week, boss. If nothing shows, my team will move on. As you well know, I have plenty to fill my time."

"Keep me up to date, and we'll remain on good terms."

Joyce stood. "Will do." Turned and left the room.

On returning to her office, she slumped into her chair. Her brain went into overdrive. Years of being the shitty jobs officer and an accident pushed me into the murder squad. For a while, she sat in silence, absorbing the adrenaline rush. As her pulse slowed, she rang Rupert.

A woman answered the phone. "Records, Sergeant Bell. Can I help you?"

"Hi, Maggie, it's Joyce, Rupert's partner. Can I speak to him?"

"He's right here. One moment."

"Hi, I hear it was a nasty one. Are you okay?"

"DCI Butcher broke his leg this morning, and I'm now a permanent member of the murder squad."

"Long hours and hard work, but you earned the position years ago. Be thankful you might be retiring in a few years."

"I couldn't believe it when the guvnor told me."

"There might be the odd squad member pissed off with a woman getting the post. Kick their balls into touch. You're better than them."

"You're biased."

"Joyce, you know I'm right. A few of those guys eat, sleep and live the job, and they are good. They get a gut instinct and go for it. I recommend taking one step at a time. But I know you, and you'll do what you want anyway. Will you be home early, or will I cook dinner?"

"As it comes. I need to check with the Home Office pathologist. But the cause of death is definite."

"See you later, boss."