‘I realize Hudson and Slack is a family firm from your point of view, but how long have you actually been working for the company? Would you have been around about eighteen months ago?’

Vernon’s lips moved slowly, as if he was counting up to eighteen and trying to work out how long ago that was.

‘March of last year,’ said Cooper helpfully.

‘Yes. Well, I’ve always helped out a bit. My dad, you know …’

‘Yes, of course.’

Vernon’s reluctance to meet his eyes made it easy for Cooper’s gaze to slide past him and land on something more interesting. The door behind Vernon had glass panels, and through them Cooper could see some kind of store room. The item that had caught his attention was a brand-new microwave oven, still in its box. Presumably the cremation suite staff used it to make their lunch. With a faint queasiness in his stomach, he pictured them watching a pie turn slowly in its dish as the meat bubbled inside.

‘Do you know the other bearers very well, Mr Slack?’

‘Some of them. They come and go, you know how it is.’

‘What about Billy McGowan?’

‘Billy? I’ve known him for yonks. Yonks.’

‘Has he worked at Hudson and Slack for a long time?’

‘I can’t remember how long exactly, but I know he worked for Granddad. Billy was casual for quite a few years, then Dad gave him a full-time job.’

‘Your father gave him the job, not Melvyn Hudson?’

Vernon looked down at the car, as if embarrassed at being tricked into an admission.

‘Yeah.’

‘Is your father still with the company?’

Vernon didn’t answer, but fiddled with his cloth, itching to get polishing again. But no doubt it had been drummed into him to be courteous to people at funerals, and he seemed reluctant to make an exception, even for a police officer.

‘He’s dead.’

‘Your father died?’

The only response was a brief nod. Vernon was starting to remind Cooper of Tom Jarvis, another man who didn’t believe in wasting words. He’d seemed sullen at first, but now Vernon was just smiling and smiling. Not with pleasure, but with anxiety. His expression was a perpetual grimace of apology.

Suddenly he looked past Cooper and his expression changed to one of relief, as if the cavalry had arrived.

Cooper hadn’t heard any footsteps behind him. He hated it when his alertness slipped so much that someone was able to creep up on him. As a result, he hadn’t even begun to turn round when a hand landed on his arm.

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

An unmarked car was already in position in Darton Street, parked a few doors down from number 28 to keep surveillance on the front door.

DI Hitchens picked up the radio handset. ‘Is he still at home?’