The Strangers on the Trains ( Part 7)

Emily was stunned.

“Why on earth would he kill himself just weeks after surviving a train crash? It doesn’t make sense.”

“That’s exactly what his mate said. He never believed it. Not even now, almost sixty years later.”

“What else did he say?”

“Well, he mentioned that the inquest into his death was a farce. They said that Eddie was depressed since the crash and that’s why he took his own life. But old Mister Stokes says he had a beer with him just the day before he died and he was full of life. Anyway, I’m on my way up to Cheltenham now, gonna buy the old boy a few beers; see what else he has to say. I’ll call you tonight if that’s okay? Might be quite late though. And, let's face it, you could do with all the beauty sleep you can get.”

“That's rich coming from you. Doesn’t matter, let me know everything he tells you. Whatever time it is, just call me.”

She hung up, put her mobile on the desk and sat down in her chair. The news of Eddie Hargreaves demise was confusing her. Why would a man who had just survived a terrible crash suddenly want to commit suicide?

She put that question to the back of her mind and decided to concentrate on the good news. There were now two more things to add to the list. Earring and small box.

She looked carefully at the three photos of the men with the beards. Two of them were side shots so not all of their faces were shown. But the third one from the Dagenham East crash was full on. She looked carefully at the man’s face. It wasn’t the clearest of photos but the harder she looked she was sure there was something different in his left ear. She walked out of the room and along the corridor. She found room 343. Pauline was sitting at her desk.

“Hello Emily, what a nice surprise.”

“Sorry to interrupt you Pauline, but would you have such a thing as a magnifying glass?”

“You’ve come to the right place dear, I’m a bit of a hoarder you see, never throw anything away. Got more stationery in my office than Staples have.”

She rummaged around in her top draw and came out with a large magnifying glass.

“There you go, knew I’d have one somewhere. Anything else?”

“No, thanks Pauline, I’ll bring it back later.”

“No rush.”

Emily hurried back to her room and held the glass over the photo. There it was, unmistakable. The man had a small hoop in his ear. It was tiny, like one of her old sleepers that she’d had to wear years ago when she first had her ears pierced. She moved the glass down and concentrated on the man’s jacket. There was something familiar with the shape and style. It was the same in every photograph. She remembered her Dad wearing something similar when she was still at primary school. Dad was a labourer and worked on many building sites back then. She remembered him coming home from work in his old black jacket. She remembered it had a certain smell about it especially when it got wet. Not a bad smell, but distinctive. She was sure the jacket had some kind of name but couldn’t remember what it was called. She picked up her phone and called her parents number. He mother answered.

“Hello love, what a nice surprise, you not at work today?”

“Hi mum, yes I’m at work and just in the middle of something so can’t stay on the line too long. Is dad there? I need to ask him something.”

“He’s right beside me; I’ll pass the phone to him. Bye love, speak to you soon.”

Emily wished she had more time to chat, but she was anxious to get on.

“Hello, dad?”

“Hello sweetheart, what can I do for you?”

“This is going to sound a bit strange dad, but it’s to do with my work. Something you can help me with.”

Her dad laughed.

“I knew I’d come in useful one day. Go on then, I’m intrigued.”

“Remember when you were working on those building sites, back when I was at school? You used to wear a black jacket, a working jacket if you know what I mean. You wore it all the time.”

“That was my Donkey Jacket. Everyone wore them back then. Especially if you were in the building trade. I loved that old jacket. Don’t think they even exist anymore.”

Emily smiled. That was it. A Donkey Jacket.

“Thanks dad, speak at the weekend. Love you.”

She quickly googled “Donkey Jacket”. She found what she was looking for. And something she wasn’t expecting. She read the description out loud.

“A Donkey Jacket is a short buttoned coat, typically made of an unlined black woollen material, originally worn as a work jacket in the United Kingdom. It is regarded as typical of the English manual worker and by trade unionists and those on the political left.”

The last part got her attention. The Political left. She added something else to the list. Possibly left wing.

She looked at her watch. It was quarter past six. The day seemed to have flown by. But it had been productive. She’d found out some important information today but with every discovery came a new question. Why the earring, why the Donkey jacket, what was in the small box, why had Eddie Hargreaves decided to end his life? All questions that at the moment she couldn’t answer.

Time to leave. Give Yorkie a cuddle and open a bottle of red.

She couldn’t be bothered with the hassle of the tube so flagged down a black cab and was indoors in thirty minutes. Yorkie was fed and a nice bottle of Merlot was opened. She relaxed in her chair and tried to think things through.

She dismissed her terrorist theory. It just didn’t feel right. Her second theory had been that the men with beards were transporting something by train. Something explosive that had gone off accidentally and caused the crashes. The fact that Eddie had mentioned the man was carrying something like a shoe box fitted in with the theory, but she wasn’t convinced that it was explosives. All the time she felt she was close, but still missing something.

After two large glasses of wine she fell asleep. The ringing of her mobile woke her up. It was just after ten o’clock. It was Fat Tony. She rubbed her eyes and answered the phone.

“Is that Miss Marples?”

“Very funny. Any more news?”

“Just put old Mister Stokes into a cab, he can certainly drink for an old boy. Five pints of bitter and three scotches, bless him.”

“Did he have anything else to say about Eddie?”

“Oh yes indeed he did. I taped the whole conversation and I’ll play it to you next time I see you. But he was adamant that Eddie didn’t commit suicide. He said that Eddie took a week off after the crash, before going back to work. He hadn’t been hurt in the crash, just some minor bruising. During his week off, he had to give statements both to the Police and the railway. He told Mister stokes that it was all very strange. The day after the crash, he was indoors and two men knocked at his door. They said they were from the Police. He told them everything he could about the crash and the man with the earring. He said they seemed to be more interested in the man than they were with the crash itself. The next day he gave a statement to the railway company. Then, on day three he had a visit from the local Police. He said he’d already given a statement to the other two men. The local Police didn’t have a clue what he was on about, they said there were no other Police involved.”

“Did he mention if Eddie said what the first two Policeman looked like, any description?”

“No, he just said that Eddie couldn’t understand why they were so interested in the man with the earring.”

“Did he say where he got on? The man with the earring.”

“Yep, got on at the start. Waterloo. Carrying a small box. Like a shoe box. Had it on his lap all the time. Eddie remembered he still had it when he helped him out of the carriage.”

“What, he was still holding it when he rescued Eddie?”

“No he said he’d put it into his coat pocket.”

“You diamond Tony; you may have just answered a vital question for me.”

“You know me treacle anything to oblige, but don’t forget, I don’t want to know why. I’ll pop in tomorrow and play you the tape. Catching the last train back to London now. Sleep tight.”

Emily hung up. She was smiling. Donkey Jackets had two very large outside hip pockets. Being a working man’s coat the pockets were large so that men could carry their lunch in them. A small shoe box would fit comfortably in them. So perhaps the reason for the coats was purely practical. She went to bed happy. She was looking forward to Tony’s visit in the morning.