Off the Rails Read Online Free PDF Page A

heroes,
American Psycho, The Killer Inside Me,
damaged people. He’s interested in learning how to control others. He’s probably disdainful of ordinary folk, despises their weaknesses, thinks of them as lower life forms. The books and magazines are arranged thematically and alphabetically. Four separate volumes on the great disasters of London; maybe he enjoys reading about other people’s tragedies. He’s obsessive-compulsive because at first it was the only way to protect himself and keep his real feelings hidden, and now it’s an unbreakable habit.’
    Banbury walked around the bed. ‘Check out the drawers. His clothes are neatly grouped into different outfits for the personalities he wants to project. Grey suit, white shirt, blue tie, jeans and grey T-shirt. Grey, white, blue—the colours of sorrow,austerity, emptiness. The brands are H&M, Gap, M&S. No choices that reveal any sign of individuality. The bed linen’s been washed so there aren’t even any fabric prints to lift. One plate and one mug—he certainly wasn’t planning to have anyone over to stay. He lives here and yet he doesn’t.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    Banbury scratched his nose and thought for a minute. ‘Some people have no sense of belonging, because they live inside their heads. They carry themselves wherever they go. They’re complete from one moment to the next. Most of us, if we were told we had to board a plane in the next couple of hours, would need to head home first. We like to tell others what we’re doing, where we’re going. We go online, make calls, form connections. He doesn’t. No phone, no mail, no laptop, no keys, wallet, money, bills or passport. He always makes sure he’s got everything he needs on him.’
    ‘But he had nothing on him when he was arrested.’
    ‘Then he has a place to stash stuff. Obviously he’d be tagged at any airport.’
    ‘I don’t think he wants to leave the country,’ said Bryant, ‘or even leave the area. Something is keeping him right here.’
    ‘Then what are we missing? Don’t touch that, it’s not been dusted yet.’ Banbury pulled out a camel-hair brush and twirled it between his fingers. ‘It’s complicated. He’s living off the grid, old-school fashion, face contact only. He stays in this block because it’s local council-owned but cared for by the residents, which means the cops aren’t as familiar with it as they are with the Evil Poor housing up the road.’ The so-called Evil Poor Estate was home to multigenerational criminal families whose recourse to violence and destruction was as natural to them as going to the office was for others. Such estates formed modern-day rookeries around London.
    ‘Have a look at this,’ said Banbury. ‘There are stacks of local newspapers in the cupboards, articles starred in felt-tip—he’s fascinated by London, particularly the area in which he lives. Plenty of neatly transcribed notes about the surrounding streets and tube stations. He has abnormally strong ties to his home. This is interesting because it contradicts all the other signifiers. To me, it’s the only part of his behaviour that’s outwardly irrational.’
    ‘An emotional attachment to the neighbourhood. Why would you stick around if you’d killed someone?’
    ‘Killers do. But it’s usually the disorganised, mentally subnormal ones who stay on at the location. The organised ones use three separate sites: where the victims are confronted, where they’re killed and where they’re disposed of. Then the killer leaves the area. So we have a contradiction.’
    ‘Hm. Anything more from the newspapers?’
    ‘He’s earmarked the obituaries of people who live around here. Maybe he was planning identity theft.’
    ‘Think he’ll come back to the flat? Is it worth keeping someone on-site?’
    ‘He’s got no reason to return. There’s nothing worth taking.’
    ‘Come on, Dan, give me something I can use.’ Bryant impatiently rattled the boiled sweet around his